Going north

Going north. This time to Skellefteå to participate in Scandianvian Winterswim Championship. I am a true rockie in this matter but couldn’t resist the challenge of swimming 25 m lane in ice water.

Travelling by train through the snowy landscape is relaxing and a proper mental preparation for what is to come. The fields and the snowcovered forests passes by in a milky blur. During a part of some 15 kilometer the train slows down considerably due to a raildamage, said to be caused by a freight train with a defect wheel. The delay is not big and ther is still plenty of time to catch the connecting bus from Umeå. Some confusion accurs about which bus to take and we are all anxious to get on since it is snowing – that wet kind of snow that sticks and melts on your clothes when the temperature is above zero. A talkative smoking woman says she often does this trip to visit her daughter in Burträsk. She is from Bollnäs and speaks without interruption.

It seems like ages before we get on that bus when the busdriver doesn’t know how to handle the ticket machine. He is pushing buttons without result looking helpless and tired. I guess he is close to seventy. We are waiting patiently face to back outside the bus in the falling snow. Watching the bus driver as he fumbles with the machine with yet another cashpaying traveller. I have a printed ticket in my hand and it is getting soaked by the snow. Kerstin is further back in the row. Finally I get onboard and find two seats in the rear of the bus. When Kerstin gets on she says she will be roadsick sitting this far back.

Someone has written a love message on the back of the seat in front of us – ”I love you and haven’t seen you for two days and I can’t stand it any longer”. Touching.

There are seat belts which we manage to put on after some difficulties. Once you stop pulling you can not stretch it any further, so you have to let it slide back all the way and then keep pulling consistantly. It is dificult because the seats are narrow and you have to do this in an awkward position. Finally we are safely buckled up and on our way. The road is narrow and slippery and the carriage throws back and forth. In the loo there is no water to flush or to wash your hands with, which I mention to the driver. – Typical, he replies.

The walk from the busstation to our hotel was not far, about a kilometer, but the snow clogged the wheels on our suitcases and the pace was not great.

Testswimming was an oportunity on the night prior to the competition to try the lanes and the water before the actual race. We walked from the hotel through the snowstorm to the competition site. Four lanes were cut in the river ice adjacent to the town hall of Skellefteå. Changing of clothes had to take place on the slushie ice which was uncomfortable. Due to the strong current an assistant tied a belt attached to a rope around my waist and ran along as I swam. The current was strong but to my favor so it was a surprisingly quick swim. It was tricky to get on the clothes but Kerstin helped me. I am glad I did the test swim so that I was prepared of what was to come. We went to the nearby restaurant to get warm again. Small parties were gathering with drinks for their friday night pleasures. Groups of young women chatting and laughing and happy to see eachother. I had taken off my boots and put them on the heater next to the window, socks too. I tucked my cold feet in Kerstins wind trousers which she had put under the table. After warming up and a meal and a glass of beer we returned to the hotel.

The dressing room for the competitors was temporarily hosted in a conference room at the town hall. When I entered there was a solid concentrated silence in the room and I felt an urge to comment this and all of a sudden everybody started talking and laughing. Swimmers who recently done their race came in. Their skin was red from the cold and they all had a happy smile on their faces. They groaned and made it obvious to everybody about their achievements. So typically mannish manners. I got ready and started to warm up. On my feet I had my neopren socks and my head was protected by a rubber swimmers cap. I wrapped myself i my terry cloth robe and got out in the entrance where the heats gathered before they strode down to the river. I made contact with the men in my heat to get a feeling of my opponents. One of my age, slightly older, a finnish busdriver and two younger men – a bath attendent from Burträsk and a psychologist from Umeå. Shortly after we stood at the edge of the ice. Each lane had a ladder on both ends. I put my robe, glasses and socks in a basket held by an assistant ready to run with the basket to the opposite side. Suddenly I realized I had forgot my goggles in the dressing room. To late to fix that now. We climb in to the water. It is 0,1 degrees Celcius but I dont even think about the temperature, I just want to swim. On the signal I push away from the ladder. It was a good start and I swim with all my might taking quick strokes. The bath attendent is in the lane next to me and he is taking the lead. Where the other two are I cant see but it feels good and I can sence the cold water in my eyes. Reaching the other end and climbing up the ladder it seems like I was at least second best in my heat. My blood is rushing in my vaines and my skin is steaming and I feel a push of happiness. I get my things back and walk up the stairs from the river where K greets me with a smile and we make company up to the town hall. It was a good race and I gave all I could.

Back at the improvised dressing room the finnish men drink some stuff from a thermos. I ask the if I can taste and get a cup of a hot choccolate, mint and alkohol mixture. It is nice but I had expected a stronger brew due to my preconceptions about fins.

At the office collegues want to hear about winter swimming and they shake their heads and put up that forgiving smile – Are you crazy! Nobody, so far, wants to join me next year for a relay team. But I will definitely be back next year, at least to protect my gold medal.

Stockholm Narvik – a pick-me-up

Almost exactly a year ago, the 29/6 2013 we sailed with Dax from Keflavik, Island and started our Northwest Passage Expedition. I got to experience amazing things during a trip and getting back to “normal” life has not been easy. Abstinence was too excessive. Here is my story about how I get my “pick-me-up”.

    What to do with a longing to visit plains and barren landscape? I have one in me and I do not always know how to handle it. Now I decided, however, to travel up north, north of the Arctic Circle I wanted. It should generate a feeling in your body. So I decide to use my SJ Prio points and buy a journey by night train to Narvik. I want to see the Arctic Ocean again. The weather seems to be ok. I also booked B & B online.

    My fellow passenger named Peter Lindgren enters the compartment with his bags. He arrives with a delayed train from Jönköping which we waited out. I see a Canadian flag on one of his bags and ask if he had been in Canada.

    – I live there, he says, for 30 years in Vancouver.

He is actually from Lyxele and real name is Per Gunnar but PG did not work in Canada, he must always explain what the initials mean, so it had to be Peter instead. He’s a little awkward with how it works on board and says he has been riding trains only five times in his life. I explain how the alarm works because he must get off in Umeå. Peter pokes about in one of his bags and gets up a box with a picture of a man with a kind of red dot in the chest with yellow rays outside.
  – I have problems with heartburn, excuse himself, as if he feels the need to explain himself.

    Peter tells me how he ended up in Canada, but I still do not understand how it happened. It was something with friends who first went to the U.S. but did not get a residence permit, a visit to the Canadian consulate and an official who claims to only speak English but still seems to understand Swedish. It is strange that I do not get an understandable explanation – his presentation is completely incomprehensible but I do not care so much.

    The first part of the night becomes shaky. The track is bumpy and I am jerked here and there in my top bunk. Do my best to ignore the need to go pee and trying to sleep on. In the end, I give after and climb down my ladder and patter barefoot down the aisle in just my underwear off to the toilet at the end of the sleeping car.

    In Umeå Peter gets off. His wake up signal beeps for a while so I have to tell him that he should shut it off it with the button at the top end.

    Outside the train window firs and pines flows by. I love this country with its forests and mountains. It makes me calm to watch this and I get the urge to just roll around in the moss, to become one with the land and the trees, to unite the forest and marsh with my own body. Just do not know how it should be done. Will write a song about this later.

    The bread is finished in the dining car so I take pancakes instead. Eggs with caviar, orange juice, tea and yogurt I buy too. Talking to a young man opposite me on peatlands, forests, nuclear power and become enlightened about the city department planted Ginko trees along Hornsgatan in Stockholm. It’s really a conifer but recalls leafy tree and can pollinate itselve across huge distances. Have to get a closer look at the new trees when I’m back in town.

    Change of trains Boden where I jump on train 69 to Narvik which is already at the platform. Looking up my seat 34 but there is 35 and 33 but not 34. Very strange. Confused, I sit down on number 35 until I get me to check out mobile ticket again and can confirm that I have stepped into the wrong trailer. I continue back in the train and find my seat next to a lanky, pale young man with studded belts and cartridge bracelet. He has his luggage in front of his feet which he slowly moves away as I enter ifor my window seat. Thinking – why does he not put up his stuff on the luggage rack instead? The young is apparently listening to music in his earphones because he drums both his feet against the floor. If he continues I have to ask him to stop, I think. I dont have to – he does not hold for a long time and in Gällivare he steps off. During our mutual journey north he utters not a single word.

    I step out for a moment on the platform and watch hikers with their large rugsacks on thier backs probably on their way to Sarek. They just plowed down the aisle between the seats with their cups and boots dangling on the back. One or two passengers seated gets a slap in the head. A long iron ore train with its rusty wagons rolls by on the opposite track.

    Further back in the wagon sits another young man in a ghetto cap with large letters and talks incessantly on Pite dialect with a loud voice, probably drunk. He grinds on and ranting, clueless as to what the rest of the passengers are going through. Suddenly another passenger raises his voice and ask him to calm down. The Pite man continues with his silly talk and then the other passenger slamming bangs his palm down on the table between the seats.
   – Now you take yourself together!
Then the disturbing man reacts, excuses himself resentfully and silences – at least for a while until he takes up the cell phone and boasts on, seemingly unaware of what just passed.

    In Kiruna wind turbines are standing still. Kirunavaara slag heaps with their terraces silhouetted against the horizon. A bronze sculpture picturing a group of navvies on line carrying a piece of rail on their shoulders adorns the platform. After a break, the train continues and I can now see the sunlit snow-capped peaks to the north. As we approach the Abisko birches are taking over the scene from the previously dominant spruces. Nature becomes more dramatic and below us ripples Torne Lake. The drama increases as we approach Narvik. Steep mountainsides with foaming rapids and streams everywhere. It is so steep that I look down at them from above. To build on this stretch of the iron ore line must have been a challenging task.

    After a while it’s off down to the sea along the fjord. At the station I asked a woman for directions to Norumgården, my Bed & Breakfast.
  – Wow, it is far, surely takes twenty minutes, she says.
   – It’s cool, I answer.
She walks with me a bit pointing out the main direction. At half past seven, I enter the steep stairs to my room, called Jomfruburet. The room is nicely decorated in a romantic early 1900s. Cream ornamented furniture, crocheted bedspreads and a small chandelier. Black and White old portraits in small veneered frames on the walls.

    I’m hungry and head down on the town again to find a place to eat at. Amalia is a Portuguese restaurant. I take Bacalau a braz and a beer. Sitting alone on the terrace next to the war museum. The sun is blazing and it’s nice and warm in the face. I close my eyes and sip on my Nordlands Guld while waiting for the food. Oddly very few people in motion. You can hear live music from another nearby outdoor seating. A man comes out of the restaurant to smoke. He lights a cigarette, takes a few puffs, goes back and leaves the smoldering cigarette butt in an ashtray on the table beside me.

    Finishing the meal with Pedro Cake and coffee, pays and goes down towards the harbor. The sidewalks are poorly maintained and lean back and forth. Grass, dandelion and frog leaf penetrates the cracks in the asphalt. A stage and dance floor overlooking the harbor has seen its best days. Also the buildings look a little shaggy. Still, I like the environment. The city is framed by mountains all around. A ski slope with his bare ground is visible in the slope of Narviksfjellet. In the east, the fjord is opening up to the sea and Svolvaer. I’m looking up a viewpoint that is slightly higher with better overview. Looks a cargo ship at anchor in the bay. When I walk back to the hotel, the shadows are long and I hear tones from an electric guitar from somewhere. Cant manage to locate the source. The music is improvised and lyrical and thats what I like.

    I buy biscuits, cheese and apple juice in evening open Coop that I enjoy in the room while I listen to Eva Cassidy on the computer. Pondering over the fire escape, and if it is approved. I have only one way out and that is through the narrow steep stairs. No fire ladder is visible outside my window. Imagining if I would be able to hit the cushioning bushes below if I have to jump from the window.

    I wake up in the middle of the night, the sun’s beems into the room. A high cutting tone pumps on the outside, persistent and high pitched. I sit up in bed and have associations to air raid warning – has war broken out? After some time the noice dies out, sort of stifles and I fall asleep again. At breakfast, where all guests gather around the big table I find out what the sound during the night had been. There are ore train that brakes suddenly. Since there are 70 ore-filled cariages with 70 tons in each takes a while to stop the train. Traffic with ore shipments from Kiruna and Narvik run around the clock.

    Again a day with bright sunshine so I hike up on Narviksfjellet. First with the gondola lift and the last part by foot which takes about 40 minutes. The view is stunning but can not be captured on a picture which is often the case with beautiful views. You get a feeling which is not easily embraced in a picture, or at least is not pictorial. Taking the less steep way back down at the back of the top and lwhat on the way up challenged my fitness now give your leg muscles a matchW. A lousy lunch at the cafeteria before I take the cable car back down and walk to the War Museum to view artifacts from Narvik’s war history; torpedoes, rifles, machine guns, mines, stretchers, uniforms, maps and bandages.

    Tired body and tired brain as I lie down on the grassy spot with a fountain outside the museum and go to sleep on my back in the sun with playing families surround me. I wake up after an hour and head down to the harbor and LKAB’s field to try my photographic luck. I have seen the installation from the mountain, attracted by the different shapes and dilapidation.

    Feel like a mischievous schoolboy when I sneak into the area. Come to think of film Stalker. The environment is rough and gritty. There is ongoing demolition and new construction at the same time but since it’s Sunday, it’s not much movement. My goal is a powerful red volume with black concrete suports on the outside, probably a magazine for ore. It smells of diesel, creosote and wet dust. I’m not hiding but try to avoid contact with passing vehicles. Those who seem most disturbed by my presence are the seagulls making their flight atacks against me, crying and putting it on. They have their nests perched on the roofs of buildings along the quay. I might get some good pictures, do not know for sure until I examine them on the computer.

    Beer and burgers in the sky bar at the hotel Rica and then back to my accommodation. Turns the TV on, it’s football Costa Rica vs Greece. Turns off again as I feel little enthusiasm for the game. Instead i lay down with Knausgårds book My Struggle 6 on the crocheted bedspread and get carried away into the hypnotic prose.

    As my mom always do I bathe my face with water from the fjord. I taste it. It’s not extremely salty probably because of the proximity to the river which enters the fjord nearby. Thinking about this thing with my mom who always took the sea water in the face. She made it seem so obvious. So I do so now. On the beach sits a few young people in the municipality neon colored vests. They seem to have a lunch break from their community service and talking drinking stories.
   – Beer I drank once, it was disgusting, says one of the young women, it is dangerous to drink anything below 40 percent.

    Dog owners are making their rounds down to the water. A large golden retriever stop midst the youngsters and barks at them. The owner who just released on leash says – Come on! to the dog. The sun warms despite the northern wind. It is pleasent and I stroll up to the station. The train is already at the platform, and it is just to get on.

    In Boden, I wish to visit the dining car so I walk along the train on the platform. Jumps into the cart before to visit the restroom and when I turn back towards the bistro it is gone and the track is empty outside the door. A moment of confusion before I find out that they are replacing the dining car. Once it is plugged in and opened it turns out to be over 35 degrees inside – it has been standing all day in the sunshine. I buy a Seunerts Höga Kusten and potato chips. Share a table with, what appears to be a family. I write seems since they are talking to each other in such a non-familiar way. The young woman adresses them father and mother but the tone is that of colleagues who do not socialize as much. The mother speaks Danish and has bruises all over her eyes and scratch marks on his forehead. We are not talking to each other until I get up and say
  – Now I will seek out a place with more coolness. They laugh a little relieved and make way when I pass.

    When I get off the train in Stockholm, I note that the scent of sea ice and mountain flora from Narvik is replaced with the Central Station complex mix of bodily odors, perfume, coffee, detergent and dirt. I feel relaxed and refreshed after my trip and I take the subway to the office and meeting there with Skanska. Professional trivialities such as schedules, insulation thicknesses and socket design displaces my state of mind from the trip.

Finally a quote from Martin Buber – All journeys have secret destinations that the traveler is unaware of.

Adventurers hangover or reverse culture shock .

Coming home from a long and adventures trip is not easy. My familiar 84 kg body is right here at my desk at the architects office, at the computer, at meetings, at my bike riding to work. But my mind and soul is less present here. They must in a sence have got stuck somewhere in Canada or Alaska north of the arctic circle. The good thing is I feel more present at home with my family than I did before. I appreciate to be close to my family and my friends. I take more care of relations and I don’t put much energy anymore trying to convince ”old friends” that we should meet if they dont make any efforts themselves. Shallow friendship is not an issue anymore.

Being home also means trying to incorporate your impressions from the trip, to make them pronounced and to use them to create something.

During the first part of my trip on Dax I experienced hardships and social problems which was a tough lesson but they also serve as a emotional base for the rest of the trip and for the rest of my life. The journey in its whole would not have been as solid and complex as it came out without theese initial problems.

Encountering problems also creates a wish to express yourself and, as a new thing music came to me. I have been playing in a rockband for 25 years and I have also tried folkmusic on fiddle but without really beeing in the music. Now I realize I was using music more like an attitude and not expressing much inside of me. In the difficulties during the trip on Dax music came natural and without any effort. So now I have a song for you dear blogreaders. It is called Waltz on Baffin Bay and is about the beauty and the troubles but mostly about the beauty. I hope you like it. The clip is from a lecture about my Northwest Passage I held for friends recently. On the twelve string guitar is Catharina Frediksson and on the base is Karl Boson.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmhucVNw8fY
Richard

Haida Gwaii – Copenhagen

What life is about and the essence of my journey

What life is about and the essence of my journey

Haida Gwaii and The Spirit Lake Trail

Haida Gwaii and The Spirit Lake Trail

17th of October

   Now I am in Copenhagen with two days of flight travel in my body. I am tired but happy. Looking back it has been quite a journey and just to review it briefly – at the end of June Dax left Island and after nine days at sea, partly rough and troublesome we arrived in Greenland. After sailing north along the westcoast of Greenland with stops in harbours like Nanortalik, Sisimiut, Qaqortok, Nuuk and Upernavik to mention some, we crossed Baffin Bay and entered Canada 5th of August. From Pond Inlet, Nunavut  we continued westward and encountered engine problems which forced us to abort the trip. Martin and Bengt returned with the boat and got as far as Clyde River, Baffin Island where the engine broke down completely and they had to put Dax on a sealift to Montreal for wintering her there.

   I stayed in Pond Inlet for a week or so before I got a lift with a russian cruiseship, the Academic Ioffe. After a week on the cruiseship I disembarked in Cambridge Bay, still in Nunavut, Canadas Arctic. The 28th of August I embarked the swiss catamaran Libellule and joined them all the way to Duch Harbor, Alaska. Libellule continued with a new crew to Hawaii and made it there at the 13th of October while I roamed the west coast of southern Alaska on the Alaska Marine Highway ferries. The ferry Kennikiot and the ferry Taku took me to Prince Rupert, British Columbia, Canada. Another ferry and I came to the islands of Haida Gwaii. Haida Gwaii was my last stop on my marine oriented travel round the north american continent so from Haida Gwaii I flew to Toronto where I did touchdown to connect to my friend Rick Irving who I met on the  Academic Ioffe. I also stopped by the office of Primitive Entertainment at Bloor street downtown Toronto to see how the documentary series The Polar Sea is developing. This is a documentary where the adventures of Dax and me will be able to be seen on television 2014.

   Staying on Haida Gwaii I hired a car to explore the hikes accessable from the one and only official road. Unfortunately I was not allowed to take the rental car on the logging roads which would have brought me deeper into the island. Anyway, I did some wonderful hikes through mystic, magic, mytical and mossy forests and desolate beautyful beaches. On Thanksgivning I picked up two hitchhikers, John and Chris and gave them a ride to a camping ground. They invited me to celebrate Thanksgiving together with them at the camp site. They had brought Salmon, Halibut and Antilope meat and I found two kilos of Chanterelles on my hike on the Anvil Trail. We cooked it all and had an improvised Thanksgiving celebration together with a young couple , Ryan and Robin, on their honeymoon trip. Had a terrible headace the day after. Why? I just had a sip (or two) of the whiskey Ryan brought and I didn’t drink much of Chris‘ home made Fireweed and Rubarb wine ( or did I?) And the beer was just to soak my dry throat – a bottle or two.

   Tomorrow Kerstin will come to Copenhagen and we will spend the weekend here together before we take the train home to Stockholm, Sweden. It is nice to travel but even nicer to be back home.

Richard

Good bye Ketchikan! Hello Prince Rupert!

The  Museum of Northern BC is built with enormous logs of red cedar. Simple and rough and beautyful

The Museum of Northern BC is built with enormous logs of red cedar. Simple and rough and beautyful

9th of September 2013 Prince Rupert, BC, Canada.

I am in Prince Rupert now. Yesterday was a troublesome day. After receiving an email from the company I booked my flight ticket through, telling me they had problems with my credit card, I tried to reach them several times via email and phone. Now I searched the booking company’s name on the web and read all these severe disliking on Tripadvisor like eDreams really sucks! or Never use this company! I definitely got worried. Found a travel agency called Qadra Travel and a nice woman named Sandra who helped me book a new ticket. Lets hope eDreams don’t charge me for my, hopefully, canceled booking.

Because of these obstacles I have not been able to explore the city of Prince Rupert. Tomorrow I will take the ferry to Haida Gwaii and spend some days there. On the 15th of october I fly from Sandspit (Haida Gwaii) and, after several stops in Vancouver, Toronto and Warsaw I will land in Copenhagen on the 17th

My last day in Ketchikan was rewarding and I was on a hike in the mountains together with John, the husband of Susan who I met in a shop while seeking shelter for the rain in Ketchikan. We hiked up the Dude Mountain, a quite difficult trail since it is very steep and this day also very wet since it was raining. Before we entered the the cloud covered summit we got some nice views over the landscape. I specially appreciate seeing all those old trees like Western Hemlock, Mountain Hemlock, Sitka Spruce and Red Cedar. The smell of Red Cedar is wonderful. Cedar contains resins that preserves it from rotting so it is used a lot in house construction.

The visitor center and museum in Prince Rupert is constructed with huge logs of Red Cedar and entering the lobby this smell is very obvious. I just popped in there to ask a question yesterday but I think I will try to visit it before I leave PR.

 

Richard

Homer good bye! Hello Ketchikan!

6th of October 2013 Ketchikan, Alaska, USA.

    I don’t want to let the unrest occupy me again. I feel it is intruding, uninvited and demanding my attention. It is that unpleasant sense of restlessness that, like electricity flowing through your body telling you to hurry. It is the fuel urban life thrives on and the very thing keeping the wheels running. As my trip is about to be completed I smell the busyness of the city oozing into my system, the busyness I have been released from for almost four months now. I never got rid of it, that bastard was just biding its time to attack again.
   The whole meaning of traveling is to be present at every moment, to be open and receive new impressions, meeting other people, sharing their stories and ideas. This openness has followed me on my trip and I have indeed met people. I have felt relaxed and curious. But now I sadly state that that ingenuousness is almost gone and I can hardly concentrate on my meetings. I have turned into a indifferent collector of impressions with my camera as a trawl. During the last week I have watched the transition. More than one time I have been in situations where I just want to establish a contact so that I can put one more “interesting” person to the files and steel his face. Beware Richard!
   Today was a lazy day indoors at the hotel doing laundry, writing emails – important and nonsense. I have also booked a flight back home and reading a book I heard the owl call my name. It is about the Haida Indians on Queen Charlotte Islands.
   Yesterday I was a bit confused not knowing what to do – maybe a hike up the mountain or a stroll around the town until I, due to the pouring rain entered a shop where I met Susan Dickinson a former Community Planner who advised me to go to Saxman and look at the Totem Park and see the carvers workshop there. So I walked the road to Saxman, saw the Totem Park which was quite impressive but did not really catch me. But in the beautiful cedar workshop I met Tlingit master carver Nathan Jackson. In the workshop was also Nathans wife Dorica Jackson who was occupied painting a red cedar totem pole which was ordered by a Californian butcher to depict his family. Nathan had been working on the pole on and off for many years and he was anxious to get it finished and delivered. There was a young carver, Kelly working on a panel commissioned by the city. He showed me the bentwood boxes they make and which belong to the Tlingit tribe traditions which Kelly was a descendant from. The workshop had a distinctive scent of cedar coming from the pieces they worked on as well as the building itself which revealed its raw and simple construction of untreated red cedar. The room was good in proportions and mainly a big working space. Windows on the longsides and a workbench on one side with a pantry, tools and grindstones and cupboards for paints. The floor was full of cedar chips. A Husqvarna chain saw was apparently a tool for a totem carver.
   Tomorrow I jump on the ferry again. This time to Prince Rupert from where I take another ferry to Haida Gwaii where I will stay some days to explore the alleged magic of the place. Stay tuned!
Richard

Tlingit woodcarver Nathan P. Jackson and his wife at the workshop in Saxman

Tlingit woodcarver Nathan P. Jackson and his wife at the workshop in Saxman

Bob "Beav" Vollhaber canoed 5000 miles through Alaska

Bob “Beav” Vollhaber canoed 5000 miles through Alaska

On the ferry Taku

On the ferry Taku

Installation on ferry Taku

Installation on ferry Taku

Image

On the ferry Taku travelling through the Inside passage between Juneau and Ketchikan

 

Resonate on the bright side.

Met this sailor in Cambridge Bay and I like his writing. Richard

EMPIRICUS EMBARKS

“Resonate”
-to produce or be filled with a deep, full reverberating sound.

We hear about all the ripple effects, don’t we? We hear the gossip and the drama. We as humans seem to love drama. Drama and blame.

I have a theory about that. The theory goes that we tend to take the wide path and blame is easier than facing reality.

To truly hate is a full time job. With no vacation. No benefits. No pay. No retirement.

But to truly love is all vacation, all pay, all benefits and full retirement.

As I said, we as people tend to remember the ripple effects of the bad. But that’s because we look for them, in the media and on the roadside. But how often do we perpetuate the good? How often do we call a friend and pass on news that gives hope and empowerment?

Less than we should…

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