Royal Canadian Air Farce chicken gun fires armour piercing pullet.

The chicken gun fires an armour piercing pullet.

Survivors.

                                                                Mr. Cedar.


Each tree is an individual just as each person is, but it is easier to consider each separate specimen as a part of a general class. Cedar trees for example.

Just across the field below our house is an average sized red cedar tree, perhaps ninety feet tall and as many years old. It`s base is typically buttressed, it`s trunk tapering up to a fine thin tip. Along the way branches hold feathery leaves up to the light. Nothing special, that is until I look at it as an individual and see the subtle variations that separates this one from it`s fellows.

Like any individual, this tree has it`s personal history, the chance events of storm or drought that somehow spared this particular tree while condemning others. The chance that dropped it`s seed here along the streambed to prosper rather than onto the rocky outcrop nearby. The chance of placement and size that had me choose it`s neighbour for lumber instead. Here it stands, still swaying in the breeze, it`s branches full of a passing flock of birds. The chancy life of a specific cedar tree.

When I occasionally visit a ‘big box store,’ I see humans as a herd browsing it`s way along the aisles and know myself to be part of that general class of beings, drawn here for much the same reasons. They, individually, like me, have had a long succession of chance events through their lives that have spared them up `til now - ridiculously chancy happenstances that have no real logic to them except as in statistics of the many.

So, Mr Cedar, we are more alike than might first appear: we belong to the most important class of all: survivors up `til now!

Amazon Adventure # 31. The Blue Peter.

                                                                Bay #1. Stocking Island.

A sandbar forms a hook to enclose the first of Stocking Island`s harbours and it is here that the kids played volleyball and had a bonfire party with their friends. One day we had Amazon pulled up to the shore and I found a yellow piece of rubber sticking out of the sand. There was something familiar here and with a mighty heave I dragged Hippolyta`s twin from it`s (not so) final resting place. I could not stir up much indignation at this form of disposal because I had often contemplated some nasty deed to our own dinghy as she had long had a persistent leak in a valve which meant that we paddled half deflated much of the time. Compared to the natty Zodiacs driven by our neighbours we were definitely declasse. My background is not in surgery but it is in making do, so it was the work of a moment to cut out the valves from the body and shovel it back under the sand. Later I performed a transplant with rubber glue on Hippolyta and it was a great success! I still had another valve as a spare part just in case we needed some more surgery on the way home.

All good things come to an end and after goodbyes stretched over a couple of days we finally got our propane bottle filled and started the long journey back up the Exuma chain.

Journal:

Feb.13th.
‘Amazons forever!’ The Blue Peter was fluttering in the northerly breeze as this was departure day from Stocking Island, our home town for what seemed like ages. Chris and Lisa from ‘Set Free’ came over for a final goodbye and then we motored out and through the harbour entrance and got sail up. Wind then shifted east and then north east. We were close hauled and kept motor sailing as we were bucking into a chop. Finally at Soldier`s Cay we found a pass and were back in sheltered waters and floating on white, shallow water. Gwyn was navigator today with Heather`s help and it was quite a job keeping track as Amazon wove through islands, sandbars and reefs. The wind was now NW.

We decided to follow the ‘deepwater’ route through the Piblicoes to avoid the shallows we had skimmed across on the way south. We rounded a rocky corner and glanced down to see the sand bottom had come up to meet us after all. Soon, bump, bump, we were aground on a hard sand bar two miles off shore. I jumped over and pushed for a while until we finally were back in deep (five ft.) water again. I was steering with the tiller between my knees and the Cruising Guide in my hands as we crept along the channel to Farmers Cay and a cove for the night. Nine hours, 40 miles, 4.5 knots average.

                                                                               Pushing Amazon.


Tonight the sun set at 6:00 and the moon rose at 6:02. A very bright and calm night. The roosters in the settlement started crowing at 4AM.   Bill.

Amazon Adventure #30. A normal school day at Stocking Island.

Sailing in the harbour with friend Cris, from `Set Free'.

All the young people who are out cruising with their families are an interesting bunch. When sailing, they are an important part of their crew and take watches, navigate, and generally share in the family adventure. They relate to all adults straight across -person to person. They also have regular schoolwork to add to their duties and their aim is to see how efficiently it can be done so as to enjoy the afternoons off with any friends they might find along the way. This adventure story of ours started with the children in the Swallows and Amazons books by Arthur Ransome and our desire to have a Carribean sailing adventure just like them. We watch our children becoming more and more skilled and self reliant like the crew of the ‘Wildcat’ in the story ‘Peter Duck’.

Around noon each day, the VHF radio lights up as plans are made for the day and soon an inflatable dinghy will zoom alongside and the two eldest will be off for an afternoon`s adventure. Anne tells the story of a fishing expedition out to the reefs on the ocean side of Stocking Island.

While her sisters are out to play, Gwyn gets help with her homework.

From the journal:

Feb.3rd.
Elaine, Aaron, Chris and I went off fishing “oceanside” of Stocking Island. We went through a narrow cut, -lucky it was high tide! Out we went bashing through the waves. We counted at least 13 other rafts out there, I bet there would n`t be any more fish or crayfish. Saw Mark off of ‘Sea Rogue’ he told us there was n`t anything on his reef so we tried another one, and another one etc.

They finally got a medium sized Crayfish. Aaron spotted it and Chris shot it with his spear gun. Aaron`s aim sucks!

Tried two or three more reefs- they got chased by a barracuda. Exciting! Went back to the reef where they caught the crayfish. They found a huge grouper -15 to 20 lbs. Got four spears into him and he flattened himself against a rock crevice. After an hour they finally got it up. Now I know how tiring holding spears is - I dove down to get the spears - 8 to 10 ft. Ugh!

Headed home but this time the tide was low so we surfed over the coral on a wave crest otherwise we would never have made it. Got back, did homework, went to bed. Anne.

Building Bridges, and Corkie at the Bridge - a tale of heroism and self sacrifice.

The wing bridge: the curved form looked like a birds wing, so why not fledge it!

Building Bridges.


Have you ever noticed how so much of the richness of our language hangs on expressions incorporated into it in the past. What happens when the population using them no longer have any real connection with the original experience? All those Biblical metaphors stemming from a five thousand year old pastoral and farming tradition, - a lost sheep for example. What about all the nautical expressions that are meant to give vivid images to the language but which are just so much extra freight for modern people. We are ‘between the devil and the deep blue sea’, yes, but what exactly does that mean and how alive is it if I have never caulked that particularly difficult seam on a ship`s hull? There will be ‘the devil to pay and no tar hot’!

Recently I built two bridges across our seasonal stream and as I hammered and sawed, mixed and poured cement I was experiencing the reality of the expression we use on a casual basis: ‘building bridges’ between opposing opinions, tribes, points of view. Well, it turns out that the reality, like the metaphor, requires a fair bit of sweat and creativity. It imagines first and then works with the materials at hand to convert them into a new and useful structure to serve the people on both sides of a divide.

The concrete and masonary bridge with Corkie standing guard.

Corkie at the Bridge.


A while ago we were browsing through the local thrift store and while I waited for Heather to select her purchases I casually glanced through the used stuffed toys shelf. The usual collection of mindless, fuzzy, characterless stuffies. Squeezed in their midst was a sorrowful looking brown fellow who was definitely of a different breed. The prices was a little confusing: was he a one dollar critter or an expensive five dollar one? On such considerations lives can hang in the balance. Off the shelf, into my arms, and up to the counter where the lady at the till told me a sad tale.

There was a woman who had a very bad drinking problem and she also had a dog. The dog, in an attempt to save his mistress from herself, would force himself to lap up her drink when she was past noticing. For a while he managed to save her from an alcohol overdose and keep her alive but at a terrible cost to himself as you can imagine. This was taking ‘man`s best friend’ to a new dimension, but in the end the story ended unhappily but predictably. The woman died and the dog went to new owners. What a terrible load of sorrow and guilt this dog must have carried on his furry shoulders. Life is cruel a lot of the time and the most difficult burdens to shed are the ones we place on our own shoulders.

The new owners soon noticed something odd about their noble but sad pet. Whenever they opened a wine bottle by pulling the cork, the dog would come running!

“Yes”, the cashier said, “ That is a true story, and that will be one dollar! “Ok”. I replied, “Then we`ll call him Corkie”.

Corkie now lives with us and he is an ideal pet/companion, if still a little serious and apt to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘Corkie at the Bridge’ for example: we know that he set himself up there to guard the bridge just like in ‘Horatius at the Bridge’: to be a guard dog. He is trying to find a new noble sacrifice that he can perform in his new setting. Even though there are hungry cougars around who love dogs to bits we let him do this - let him transfer to this new role. We suspect that his fuzzy brain will not be able to retain the old sad story once he has his new persona well established. No popping corks from wine bottles though, ever.

* ‘Horatius at the Bridge’ by Thomas Babington Macaulay

Amazon Adventure # 29. ‘We shall go rejoicing, laundering away.’

The Georgetown dock where we bought our fruit and vegetables.

The spit. Stocking island.


Heather has been dreaming of an island that we could settle down at for a while instead of constantly moving on, looking for warmer weather and inexpensive local fruits and vegetables. The girls have missed contact with other young people and wish to make up for lost time. I of course have become addicted to a new voyage and new horizons every day but we all find Stocking Island and Georgetown a good place to be for a while.

The Journal.

Jan30th.
What a nice day! A relaxed morning. We all went overboard and washed ourselves. Heather did a major clothes wash. She washes on deck in saltwater using dishwashing detergent in a bucket. Tosses each piece to us. We rinse it in the sea, wring it out and toss it back where Heather gives a final rinse in a small amount of fresh water. Anne is so efficient she becomes our ‘Speed Queen’! The family that launders together stays clean, smells good.

We take Amazon across the harbour to Kidd`s Cove ( That`s Captain Kidd to you.) in Georgetown and wade ashore through the shallows to shop and explore the very clean friendly town. There are so many yachts in this area that we are all the main economy. We fill our water jugs from the park stand pipe.

Back across the bay to anchor beside the beach near ‘Thor’ and ‘Gambler III’. The girls go running off into the distance on a gorgeous beach. I clamber up a hill to get a photo from a high place of Amazon and the other boats. A monument on the top. What a view. Beautiful beaches, excellent harbours and miles of coconut trees. Then bang come the mosquitos. We pull off the beach for the night. Bill.

The three linked harbours of Stocking Island.


Feb 1st.
We went kneeboarding on the ocean side of the island [ with a whole bunch of new cruising kids] Met some French Canadian people on a catamaran, girls name was Avril. Me, Anne, Cris, Aaron and Lisa went to play volleyball. Got back to the boat at 6:00. We were anchored over a blue hole kind of thing with a cave and sergeant major fish in it. Me and Anne went to ‘Set Free’ for a movie. Got back at 10. Elaine.

Feb,2nd.
Today we woke up beside a big cavern. Fought with math and mom for an hour or so and then we headed for Georgetown. Mom and dad went shopping at the fruit warehouse -lots of bananas, grapefruit, Bahamian pumpkin, but no oranges. All at prices we can afford. ‘Malakai called and Aaron came and picked Elaine and me up and we spent the day watching Eddy Murphy`s ‘Delirious’. Great movie! Walked around town and got a ride back with Cris and Lisa. Oh no! Got our wires crossed - we were supposed to be only one and a half hours, not the whole day! Anne.

Amazon Adventure #29. A dash for Stocking Island.

                                                                                     The Cut.

From the journal:

Jan 29.
Family conference first thing. We all decided that as we were so close to Georgetown and Stocking Island ( 30 miles) and with the wind favourable in the NE we might as well make a run for it. We left Cave Cay under the puzzled eyes of some plastic yacht people. Don`t think that they ever understood that we preferred to anchor shallow and rest on the beach for half the night. That would be their worst nightmare.

The wind was gusty and strong as we left under the genoa and sailed along a shallow winding channel marked on the chart. There came a point where to follow the channel would mean a big dogleg so we turned right and crossed a big sand bar. It seemed only a few inches of water with sand and small coral lumps under our keel. We were going like crazy through the water but a strong tidal current flowing the other way made us slower over the ground. - just as well!

The wind went more into the east and slackened after lunch so up went the main. We really zipped over the shallows in the gusts. Eventually we exited into the open sea through a narrow cut in the hope of finding more wind and had to start the engine when we drifted toward the cliffs. We kept motor sailing along the coast in steep seas. A wave suddenly broke nearby on an isolated rock and we edged a little farther out!


The wind increased as the day died and Georgetown was still a long way off. We were surfing along in a race with the dark. I worried about breaking waves at the entrance channel just like happened near Little Harbour but in the end we followed the chart and slid across the shoal section with no problems. We were then in a final race for the bays of Stocking Island and I had never seen Amazon go so fast! Just when we thought we are at top speed we transitioned in a flurry of foam and rocketed forward. Amazon is heavily laden with all our family and supplies so she is wet when bucking into the waves, but here in the sheltered lee of the Island at last, we could carry sail that would lift a hull if we were not so heavy!

We groped our way into the bay by spotlight and found many boats at anchor. Two anchors out, a line ashore, quick, up with the tent and down came the rain. The rain stopped before bedtime so down with the tent and I got a lovely night`s sleep under the tarp. Bill.

Water Music: composition.

                                                                                     Water Music.


The red maple foliage, three blue irises and the spray of irrigation water were all backlit by the afternoon`s hot summer sun. The mist of water rose and then fell, constantly renewed. I got to work with my camera shooting from different angles, with different shutter speeds and apertures. I knew there was something here that was important and I was casting my net wide in the hope of bringing it in for closer inspection.

To my eyes, the water droplets had been a blur. Later, on the computer screen, some of the faster shutter speeds captured a dance of light cris-crossing across the evocative colours and forms: for all the world like a kind of musical score transcribing the sweep of colour and form. What I had discovered was a composition that could express itself equally well as image or music.

I`ve always been aware that somewhere in my brain, images and sounds are tied together. A piece of music starts a flow of shifting abstract forms and colours moving before my inner eye and a scene like this one hints at sensuous equivalents in sound . When these lines of water appeared as a kind of notation stitched across the colours and shapes, it was really to be expected that I would understand them as the score for this afternoon of hot sun, emotional colours and flowing water.

Amazon Adventure #28. ‘It`s bitter in the Bahamas.’

                                       Out to lunch at a boaters get together.


We visit with other yachties at a beach party and begin to experience the international and friendly inter-reliance of the cruising community. We stop to stock up on supplies at Staniel Cay and freeze overnight on the beach at Cave Cay.

The journal:
Jan27th.
Today we woke up, ate breakfast and did homework. Yuck! Russ/Thor and Jim/Gambler came over and invited us to lunch over on the beach. Russ, Pat and Jill came over and took Gwyn with them to the beach. A guy came over from a boat from England and asked dad and if he knew anything about electricity, motors and junk like that.
Then we paddled Hippo over to the beach. We had an interesting conversation over lunch with people from all over the world and then we hunted for shells. Some of us got rides home but Anne, dad and me paddled Hippo just about as fast. Elaine.

Jan 28th.
Mom and Elaine went snorkeling, mostly to wash their hair but I convinced them to go look at a little reef as well. They washed their hair alright but mom started giggling as soon as she put her snorkeling stuff on, - laughed and laughed etc. Finally dad hauled her up on deck (beached whale) and she laughed some more.

We decided to get going without motor -what do you know it worked - sailed down the harbour through all the boats. Passed the English guy -he thinks his motor is charging his batteries now ok. Headed for Staniel Cay passed the Thunderball Cave Cay which does n`t look interesting from the outside but I`m sure is terrific inside. Passed another Wharram cat,’Smile Orange’. He said to come and visit him but we said we would on the way back. Staniel is very clean just like people told us -bought some groceries including frozen milk. I wonder why so far noone else has thought of it. No ice, so used milk instead in our ice box. Stopped by ‘Smile Orange’ again, had some tea. He is headed for Jamaica but does n`t have crew.

                                    Smile Orange and Thunderball Cay.

We headed for Farmers Cay but decided to go further to Cave Cay. Got there, almost dark. Passed yachts that tried to warn us that it was shallow inside of the dredged part of the bay. We just waved, zipped by and beached on the sand for the night. A cold wind, good for sailing, but for night? No way! Bundled up, and started homework. Elaine and I did ‘Communications 3', - pretty fun!

Mom and dad took the tent down and bundled up for the night. It`s strange to get burnt by day and then freeze at night. ‘It`s bitter in the Bahamas!’ Anne.

Amazon Adventure # 27. Elaine saves the day.

 Disaster averted.
The wind shifts overnight and morning finds us beached in the shallows with a west wind blowing breaking waves into the bay. We push off, swing and hold Amazon so she is pointed towards the entrance. We have to be slick about our exit through the waves and between the two jagged rocky points on either side. We plan to start the engine, jump on board and pick up the last anchor on the way by. As we pass by, the anchor resists, the line tightens and we are swung across toward the rocks. Yikes. That would hole our quarter inch thick plywood hull for sure. Heather gets the engine in reverse just in time, Elaine jumps overboard and gets the anchor. We point Amazon out toward the entrance once more, jump on board, and this time we crash through the waves and away! Now, with the wind coming from the west we sail down the east side of the island chain in one long lovely downwind passage keeping careful track of our position as we pass beside the islands.

          Sailing south down the Exuma chain.

The Journal:

Jan26th.

The wind was great and we enjoyed it more than ever. We made 25 miles from Hawksbill Cay to between Little and Big Major Cays near Stanial Cay.

By the way, we saw ‘Puffin’ today but no ‘Anticipation’! Anne got a hold of ‘Thor’ on the VHF and we are anchored beside them now. Anne and I went snorkeling. Anne thought she saw a barracuda. A lovely fish there! Now mom is making bread and chilli and frogs eggs (tapioca) and apple sauce for duff (desert). Dad`s asleep and we are spacing out. The wind is blowing a little. Hope no more. Good night, Gwyn.

A whir of wings.

I am late this year gathering next winter`s main lot of firewood. The forest floor is full of Spring flowers and ferns - Calypso orchids and Trillium sparkle amid the dry twigs, the fresh leaves of salal and the swathes of vanilla leaf. It feels strange to be thinking thoughts of chainsaw destruction now in this time of renewal rather than in midwinter`s frozen stasis.

                                                                                           Calypsos

                                                                             Vanilla leaf and trillium.

I carefully bring down a couple of dead balsams so they fall with shattering crashes through gaps between two Douglas firs and onto the mossy knoll we call Cat Hill. Brief moments of shattered tops and flying limbs. I rev. the saw before I shut it down, my usual message to let Heather know back at the house that I am still alive, and then slip the hearing protectors up onto the sides of my helmet and the screen from my face. In the sudden silence I hear the whir of wings as a hawk pulls out of a dive somewhere above the forest canopy. A brief riffle of sound; it catches me. I could try to analyze the relationship, to understand why this confluence of season, destruction and bird of prey resonates so, but I let it go free. Whirrr!

Amazon Adventure # 26.Skimming the shallows to Hawksbill Cay.

Amazon off Hawksbill Cay.

South down the Exuma Chain.

The shallows. The black shadow that moves is a ray and not a coral head.

From the journal:
Jan25th.
As things go... a good sleep. Warm and dry. Still tired from yesterday. The let down from a stressful day`s sail. We decided to motor south against the still strong wind in the lee of the island chain. We were looking ( as usual) for the shelter of a GOOD LEE - a precious commodity. We passed over some very shallow banks -touching on occasion - saw a big ray - we thought it was a coral head until it moved off. We found the creeks of Shroud Island to be too shallow and with low banks so continue on to Hawksbill Cay.

More shallows with small coral heads that were difficult to see against the sun but crystal clear in our wake. We pulled into a little bay beside a high ( 40 ft.) headland with a cairn and post box on top. We found a posted message from the Islands Trust ( part of a national park) inviting folks to help slash out a trail across the island. Sorry, no cutlass.

As the tide rose we were just able to tuck into the little bay (creek) for shelter. Hope the wind won`t shift into the west tonight or we will be exposed. Two anchors out and a line ashore. Raining, big tent up. Everyone doing schoolwork. Bill.

Chop wood, carry water. The art of tending fire.

All winter long we keep a fire burning in our woodstove and it goes through a lot of wood. It takes some skill to relight it in the morning and to tend it through the day so that the room temperature hovers around 70 degrees F. Over the years we have learned the tricks to do with stoking the fire at just the right moment ( too soon and we are cooked out of the house, too late and the room cools down and the chimney sends blue smoke drifting out among the tall evergreens that surround our home). We have even found that opening the door to the cold sunroom can be used to balance up an over-active blast of heat. Bunkering down for a long slow overnight burn requires just the right kind of wood (a big piece of maple, not too dry) to burn slowly through the night and keep the house temperature from plunging too low. The real challenge, the real test of skill, however begins with the milder temperatures of early Spring.

With the outside temperature in the 50 degree range, it does n`t take much of a fire to keep the indoor temperature up to normal once the initial morning chill is gone from the kitchen. We are now into finessing the fire to keep it burning cleanly in only a portion of the firebox. It is a sign of defeat to have to open the doors and windows to cool things down and the sunroom is now picking up it`s own heat from the morning`s sunlight. We switch to smaller pieces of wood that will provide quick pick-me-ups for an almost burnt out fire. We have to check the fire more often. Soon we will be able to burn a quick fire in the early morning and then let it go out and rely on the sun to boost us through the day. Finally, just to turn things around and keep us on our toes, in the summer there are no more fires and we will be drawing the curtains and keeping the windows closed to maintain the morning`s coolness against the heat of the day. All in all we spend a lot of thought and energy on managing an even temperature and I haven`t even mentioned the different layers of clothing required for different times of the year.

One would think that a thermostat attached to electric or some other automatic form of heating would be a great invention for us on our little island but that would run counter to the other important usefulness of our own involved heating routine. We have friends who have specially designated rooms for meditation so that they may practice being present in the moment. Set your thermostat, sit down and discipline your mind to zero in on the ground of being. We have fire to tend so when would we have time to be sitting around? Ah yes, is it possible that the discipline of tending fire is as close to the center of life as it is possible to get? Next no doubt we will be chopping wood and carrying water.

Amazon Adventure # 25. Close hauled for the Exumas.

From the Journal:
Jan.24th.
By morning the wind had swung into the NE. We were packed up and on our way to the Exumas by 9am. No sooner out past the reefs then we were into big seas. The course for Highbourne Cay required that we sail as close to the wind as possible. Fiddled with the sails to get the right set. A big catamaran came up behind us ( Celtic Cross) and passed close by to demonstrate his superior windward performance. They looked so comfortably dry compared to our crashing and spray. The girls stayed below and read. Heather emerged from time to time to take the helm while I salvaged and deflated Hippolyta who washed overboard, and trailing anchor lines washed off the decks. Doing anything on deck was difficult.

Midway we passed over the Yellow Bank shallows and I sailed with one foot on the tiller so I could stand up and watch for coral heads. As the day wore on the wind and waves increased ( forecast had said light and variable winds) and swung more into the east. Amazon was soon rushing along with her bows buried in spray ( me too). The Celtic Cross` mast eventually disappeared ahead and land appeared ( two humps and a radio tower). No tower shown on the chart. More distant bits of land. Where are we? Around 3pm we see a yacht anchored close to land. We are really roaring along now and partially luffing the mains`l. Very strong gusts but at least the land is blocking the waves at last.

We cross a sand bar and worry about rocks. We pass astern of the yacht whose crew is trying to furl their sails. "Where are we?" we shout, with salt encrusted smiles. A startled look: "South end of Normans Cay!" We sail into shore only to find the land is too low and gives no lee from the wind. We catch our breath and then motor around the point to find a whole fleet of boats in the next bay anchored in the gale. We move on to the better lee of Wax Cay. Heather leaps ashore and goes running up the beach still in her lifejacket. The evening sun lights up the gorgeous island and white sand beach. What a relief after that 40 mile multi-hour crashing session.

Heather comes back, exercised, and reports animal tracks -a rare mammal called a Hutia. We find once we get the tent up that the wind varies between dead calm and hurricane strength. Heather cooks while wrapped in the folds of the tent. We can barely hear ourselves for the sound of flapping fabric. The anchor lines are bar tight. Fortunately the Danforth anchors hold well in this sand. At last it is bed time. We take down the tent. Ah, blessed silence, but for the wind in the rigging. H. and I snuggle down under the tarp and the stars. Tired? I should say! Bill.

Four Corners. The transition from image to art.

Four Corners. Pollen.

The collection of sponges, a box of tissues and one brass knob were parked by the front door waiting to be carried up to the log cabin we were equipping for visitors. I recognized a ‘photographic opportunity’ in the accidental arrangement, so I placed them on a black background, carefully positioned the elements and took some photos of what was essentially an abstract image - abstracted from reality. The first step only in the development of a work of art.

Some while later when the photos was transferred from camera to computer I selected the most interesting and did some minor adjustments -mostly cropping and darkening the image slightly to blacken the background. Then I added a beautiful gold frame from a computer selection and the ‘cleaning collection’ was into the next phase of development. By framing it I had done the equivalent of placing it on the wall and asking viewers to think of it as a work of art - an abstract one at that. At this point I had created a point of difficulty for the viewer. Firstly, it attracted attention by it`s strangeness, it`s differentness from other pictures around it and that was the first important step: amid a sea of images, this one could engage a viewer, if only for a moment. It needed to hold attention however, and the collection of items had been arranged in a very symmetrical way so only the puzzle to be solved of what were the original parts making up the image could keep the viewers focus. Already, by creating an abstract picture ( and a photograph, not a painting, at that!) I had lost many potential viewers who would only interact with ‘beauty’ or ‘realistic pictures’. As they say in advertizing however, if you do not capture a person`s attention first, you will not be able to pass on your message. By creating a visual puzzle, I had done my best for this necessary next phase.

Having, hopefully, caught the viewer`s attention with solving the puzzle, was I content to step back at this point and let my photo make it`s own way in the world? What was it`s ‘message’ anyway? And how to nudge the viewer towards a deeper truth that transcended it`s elements. Once the sponges and so on were recognized, how to stop the viewer from wandering on with only a sense of cleverness. The answer had to be in the title which could not be ‘Sponges etc.’I was about to take the final step before turning the image loose to mess with the minds of the world.

I had to go back to what spoke to me when I first saw this collection and was attracted to make a picture of it. The colours and shapes certainly, but in it`s very simplicity and bi-symetricality it made me think of my visit of a year ago to the canyons and mesa country of the American South-West - to the imagery and the stories of the Navajo. Once again there was a clash between the essential traditional quality of the "face" of the image and the consumer items that made it up. I needed a title that would point the viewer in that direction. By ‘Four Corners’ I was placing the imagery geographically, by ‘Pollen’ I was relating the dominant yellow to Navajo ceremony and spirit. With these clues, could some viewers make the leap into the heart of the matter and complete the story within themselves? That is the essential journey that the arts call upon us to make.

Amazon Adventure # 24. After the Storm.

Drying out the wet bedding, and making lunch in a gale.

The wind roars in the trees but we are safe in our little bay. We stock up with water and ice and return to Rose Island so we can have a good start on our crossing to the island chain called the Exumas.

The journal:
Jan23rd.
After a poor night`s sleep -rain and wind - we woke(!) to feel the boat bouncing on the bottom as the tide had gone out again. Over the side quickly when sand sounds were supplemented by bouncing on rock sounds. Up all anchors, take in bow lines to trees and motor out to tie up to a large raft anchored farther out in the bay. There is much more wind and we surge back and forth in jerks. I got busy with the epoxy and fixed a cleat on a netting beam and one of the hatch covers. Meanwhile all bedding and the wet tent are hung to dry before they are stowed away. Heather helped A&E with their chemistry while Gwyn and I practiced Japanese lettering.

... after a final stock up on supplies we decided to make a start on our trip and under motor and stays`l we rush across to the opposite side of Rose Island with a strong NW wind. The anchorage marked on the chart is very shallow even for us. With me pushing from behind we finally get into the lee of a cliff. Up with the tent, and the girls are now cooking hamburgers and hashbrowns. Hope for a quiet night. Bill.

Amazon Adventure # 23. The big storm.

Over the next few days we explore Nassau and visit the Canadian consulate to collect our Christmas mail. Then we sail to nearby Rose Island to do some snorkeling on the coral reefs. What an amazing experience! The wind pipes up and we make a windy dash back to Nassau harbour for shelter. While other yachts put in a scary night anchored tightly packed together in the open harbour, Amazon creeps around in the shelter of Paradise Island as the wind shifts and spends the night tied into the beach in a thunderstorm as the wind roars through the casuarina pines on shore.

The journal:

Jan18th.
Woke up early this morning to get ready for the big day ashore - boat people becoming tourists. Made lunch to put in our Current Island baskets. Put on skirts ( some of us) then piled into Hippo. What a come down! We wallowed and splashed our way ludicrously to shore with Bill, Anne and Elaine paddling valiantly against the wind and all of us trying to keep the yellow and blue dye off our finery. Stashed the boat on a corner of the public beach - suddenly we were in the middle of city traffic.... Heather.

Jan 21st.
... Finally got our refilled propane cylinder and battled waves and wind to Rose Island. Arrived at a beautiful beach -clear, clear water. Just as soon as we got there a tourist excursion boat ( a fake Spanish galleon that we called ‘The Thing’) came along and dumped tourists onto the beach. They were noisily here while we were snorkeling. Finally left. What to do with the peace and quiet? Why turn on the tapes of course!

There`s still a south-east wind but in a couple of days it should go to north 30 -gusting to 90 knots. Maybe the worst will pass to the north of us, and the wind not too strong so then we can make it to the Exumas? Anne.

Jan22nd.
All but one of the yachts anchored in the lee of Rose Island left for Nassau - they must have been conferring on the weather. We drifted partially out of the island`s lee ( the wind was way stronger farther out) and anchored beside a coral reef. We all went in and were wowed by the coral, fishes etc. H`s first snorkeling and the girls first real reef. Very, very impressive.

The other yacht ( Penopscott) left and we followed. We lashed everything down and left the lee of the point. Heather and I took turns on deck wiping the salt spray from our eyes. A fast but wet trip in 30 to 40 knot wind. We tucked into the lee of Paradise Island in a little bay near the golf course and had a pleasant afternoon with the wind roaring overhead. The girls went swimming for ages and Heather cooked supper in advance all the while expecting the thunderstorm front and a change in wind direction. A security guard ( Tony Russell) told us of a bay farther around the island so at five o`clock we motored around to a small bay backed by a sandy beach and tall trees to give shelter from the north where we expect the next lot of wind to come from. Only trouble is, the bottom is rocky and the anchors will not hold so we end up in a compromise situation with two lines to land and an anchor off to one side in the sand to prevent us swinging broadside to the beach. The tide is out and we are bumping on the sand but hopefully things will improve with a rising tide and a north wind to hold us off the beach.

We are now on the edge of the front with rain, and lightning on the horizon. We are trying the small backpack tent tonight. We are all crammed in for supper. Hard boiled eggs, salad and cold rice pancakes. We called Penopscott and told them we were safe and sound. Betty had offered to take the girls overnight as they were worried about us but in the end they themselves had an horrendous night at anchor amidst ‘the fleet’.I`d rather be tied into shore in our own little bay than mixed in with a lot of other boats ( anchors dragging etc.) in an open anchorage. Wish we would stop bouncing on the bottom though. Goodnight, dear diary. Bill.

The Organization Man.

There is a drinking glass resting before me and if I close one eye and lean a little to the left and... up just a hair... then the ellipse of the glass` rim will line up perfectly with the round table top I can glimpse out on the patio. It is a completely instinctive activity, and something I have done since I was a child. I tend to keep this playfulness to myself and disguise my visual organizing as a casual shifting of position as I try to listen fully focused to a conversation ( with one eye closed!). I do this also on a grander and more complex scale while walking along a trail with my camera in my hand. The whole landscape is a constantly changing 3-D set of relationships which will sometimes marshal itself for me into a meaningful pattern and when it does I take it`s picture. Composition informed by a lifetime of visual organizing.

There is a deeper aspect to this that keeps me reaching past mere visual satisfaction: this is a form of meditation that, like for a patient fisherman, will be rewarded by a momentary removal of the veils that disguise the inner moods of reality. That sparkle beneath the overhanging arbutus tree where the gentle ripples of the ocean pass into the shadows: - just there, where light meets dark and twines together. Click! Further down the coast, two fir and arbutus trees line-up into relationship - a triangular composition that balances precariously but perfectly with the ripples on the sea`s surface. I move forward, a little to the right, hold my breath and... click! Oh, splendid world!

In March the pond is still frozen; the overhanging willow tree is delicately frosted in fresh snow. I am working beside it slashing out some brush from the roadside. A last thin beam of late afternoon sunlight filters through the alders and picks out one branch of the willow. Spectacular, but nothing stirs in my mind until I see the dark cross of cracked ice below the tree. I run for my camera but the sunbeam is gone by the time I get back but I don`t care because I have felt the subtle relationship between tree form and the dark slashed negative in the ice speak to me. It is even more obvious without the distraction of gaudy sunlight into this solemn shady place. I practically bow before I reverently take the picture. Click! - a thousand times, yes!.

Amazon Adventure #22. Skimming the shallows to Nassau.

The day started awkwardly with a request from Darren to carry a friend to Nassau with us. We refused, even though he had done so much for us, as we have decided to avoid possible complications of transporting people and their parcels in this shifting world of legal and illegal transactions. And really we are ready for some private family time on our little ship after all the visiting of the last few days.

Amazon sails fast over the sands and reefs which we can see so clearly beneath us. When it is very shallow the wake becomes full of waves and we have a sense of tremendous speed.

It is the underwater world that is so full of life and variety in the Bahamas and unfortunately the human pressure to turn all this diversity and beauty into cash is causing it`s destruction. Some fishermen are squirting bleach into the coral reefs to drive out the last salable creatures (with air hoses they can work on even deep reefs) and this kills the coral. All to supply Nassau , the big city for which all this diverse world of cays and reefs is the hinterland.

The journal.
Jan17th.
.... Passed by many little rocks and cays as we followed the chart. The girls retired below to get some shade while I found shade behind the mainsail and dangled my feet in the water. We could see the high rises on Paradise Island at Nassau as little blobs on the horizon. Finally we were close enough and the wind light enough to furl sails and motor into the harbour. Boats all over the place. Madly trying to read the chart, call harbour control to announce our arrival and dodge other boats. All this civilization is unnerving. We cruised up the harbour checking out anchorages through bouncy waves from all the boat wash. We finally crossed to the Nassau side and anchored with some other multi hulls. I botched the anchoring ( what is called a running Bahama moor with two anchors out in opposite directions so the boat does not swing in a wide circle with wind and current.) Why is it that we can do this perfectly in deserted anchorages but not when there are 30 people watching from their boats while drinking their martinis.

We watched sea planes take off and two cruise ships leave harbour all lit up. H .and I listened to loud rock and roll music from a hotel ashore for half the night. Without being aware of it we have gradually adapted so well to the natural world of the out-islands that this entertainment world is hard to take. Bill.

Amazon Adventure #21. Current economics.

Back through the Cut.

We sail back to Current Island, go back through the Cut and anchor off the village. Darren continues to look after us; it`s obvious to him that we need it, with our little family and open catamaran/camping way of living and so we have the treat of being hosted by people who are already so well adapted to this sea/island life. We visit with Darren`s mother, buy some baskets and watch a video on one of the colour TV`s in their little home. We begin to understand that many young fishermen are fishing for more lucrative items than the crayfish and conchs that supplement their main income.
The drugs from S. America filter through the Bahamas en-route to Florida. This is what that policeman was warning us about when we launched way back in Tampa: yachts rubbing shoulders with the shady side of drugs, fast boats and isolated anchorages. How come this sounds like BC today?
The Journal:

Jan15th.
We went into Hatchet Bay settlement and bought water ($.10 a gallon) and a block of ice. On the way to Current Island we had slow sailing for several hours until around four when we turned on the motor. Ya Hoo! ( only because I was bugging Dad the whole time about turning it on). At 5:30 we were trying to get back into the our original bay but it was too shallow with the tide out, even when we all got off and pushed. Darren came along and asked us to go through the Cut to the settlement so we did and then got up the tent because of the mosquitos. That`s all, Elaine.

The settlement.
Jan 16th.
Darren took us for a tour of his settlement. Up the hill and to the left. We passed quite a few houses all with women doing the washing. Friday is washing day on Current! We passed his house, it is a sort of greenish turquoise, and it had a huge satellite dish and two huge colour TVs even though this in a very primitive looking settlement. Darren says there is really nothing to do all day but watch TV. Then we continued down the path passed a couple of yellow and purple plum trees. Darren showed us how they prepared the sticks and grasses for baskets. We saw the lady who asked Dad if he was making coffee the last time we were here. Her name is Edith Brown and she`s really nice. Then we walked to the ‘creek’ where we were anchored last time and to the place where the ‘Current Pride’ came in. All the while the mosquitos biting. We went back to Darren`s house and we watched ‘The jewel of the Nile’ while mom and dad bought baskets from D`s mom.

Off to Gregory Town.

Dad went with Darren and Warren to Gregory Town to cash a travellers cheque so we could pay for the baskets and the rest of us settled down to do homework. A Defense Force helicopter circled us with a machine gun pointing out the side door. Must have seemed dangerous with Gwyn washing her white teddy bear on deck! We were starting to think they were going to land and search us! When the speed boat came back they took dad out spear fishing. Caught two and threw them back! We said goodbye because we`ll never see them again. Tomorrow we`ll wake up early and leave for Nassau. Anne.

The invention of the SMELL PHONE.

Amazon Adventure # 20. Lost in a limestone cave.

Wow! This cave has BATS, girls.

Our Current Island friends pick us up and we all cram into a car and drive to explore a limestone cave. There is a tricky time when we wish we had unrolled a long string behind us as our guides become confused about the way back out to the sunshine and our flashlights are getting dim. Yikes! We visit a beach on the surf side of the island and then back to Hatchet Bay.

The Journal:
Jan.14th.
... Darren and Warren came roaring up and took us to the waiting car. All seven of us jumped into a four seater. We roared down the road at 70 to 80 miles per hour and turned down a dirt road named CAVES. We stopped in the middle of a field and suddenly Darren disappeared. The cave was just there! We went down some cement steps, got out our flashlights in a cavern and started our trip going two tight miles.

They lead us down manmade steps, then down a ladder and on and on. Warren showed us a water cavern and we continued `til " What light through yonder window breaks?"( "Shut up Gwyn", says Elaine.) we came to a little square hole of light coming down a shaft. As we could n`t climb up it we went back down into the dark and mom bumped her head on a stalactite. Wham! An earthquake! She had blood on her hat and of course on her head. GROSS!

After we finally escaped out to the field again we all jumped into the car and roared off to the surfing beach. The road was so bumpy that all but Darren, the driver, got out and walked. Mom and I went shell collecting then we headed back to the boat. Mom and Dad went shopping and D.&W. stopped to talk to Anne and Elaine. Later, we went out of the harbour to dump the toilet and then came back and anchored in a place where the wind could not get at us ( D and W could n`t either.) Gwyn.