The Native Iowan

Its a nice overcast Thursday here in Qland. Up and running early. A fair bit to get done. Weather is perfect for 2wheelz.

2wheelz is guuuud.

I am going to write about two dear friends, and my most recent ink-addition…

By ol amigo, Vas Eliopolous, now Dr. Eliopolous, used to make us laugh with stories of med-school, training and mishaps. One of the things I recall laughing about was his tales of erroneous bed-side-manner. He told tales of Practitioners misreading patients and saying things that either caused alarm or confusion. Vas was a good mimic and could do the voices and facials well. He was a one-man stand up routine.

A few days ago I showed up at my Ink-Masters’ house for my first session in ages. My last couple attempts at body-art saw me wimping out. Tapping out early due to the pain. This session was to be my recently into the realm of offering myself as a canvas for a master (or mistress) artisan.

Check out https://www.artselemental.com…

You’ll see Tu and Ify on the front page. And get to see some of their amazing art.

I carry a fair amount of their work. For ten years I’ve been getting whaled on. More by Tu than by Ify… both arms, chest and back, legs and right thigh… belong to Tu. My neck and left leg carries Ify’s work.

So I’m going in to reconnect. To get back into the ink-thing, and to commemorate my affliction with totality. My ol-fart need to chase The Eclipse. To bask in the murky dusk of an absent sun.

Once you catch an eclipse you’ll understand…

I planned my new ink with Ify… sun in left palm, moon in right palm… totality on the back of right hand. Made sense to me and was eager to DO IT.

So I rock up. It’s always great to visit Tu and Ify’s home/ studio. They have great kids, always extra family around, and a positive vibe they share with poise and grace.

So I rock up, give hugs, grab the 3yrold, start catching up, and Ify says, “You know what you’re in for today? It’s really going to hurt. You ready for this?”.

Damn! I said to Ify that I loved her bed side manner.

Sure, we know all ink is less than fun. I equate ink to beating your hand with a hammer… sure feels good when you stop.

And Ify goes on about how bad the hands are to ink. How much it all hurts. She states, “I cringe to think of it.”.

Well damn!

Did I say damn?

So we do the inking. It do hurt like hell. But we chat and gossip and a few hours later its done and I am happy.

Whaddya think…

Sun…

Moon…Totality…

I tip my hat to the Ink-Mistress. And thank both Tu and Ify for sharing their vibe.

Big smilez

More later

Golly,

Golly! Time sure flies… sitting in QLD, in the middle of a drought, with teens home for school for 2 weeks, as seasons change, and my shoulder heals.

As long as I cook heaps of meat daily, the teens are happy – and even useful. Both are big and strong and actually do a lot to contribute, all in all.

Been on the farm, then back at the ranch. Two teens and two toddlers. Both a challenge. Neither easier than the other. Both a pain in the arse. The teens useful, the toddlers cute.

Back to the farm tomorrow. Without the toddlers.

So I sit, I sit and listen:

I hear the breeze. It’s not enough to ring my Mr. Frog wind chime

Funny how old meaningless things can mean so much. A ten-dollar wind chime I have repairs many times. 10 years old, and a valuable possession. It’s quiet today/ right now.

But the wind, but the wind, I hear it distinctly. The palms rustling, the trees talking. Too early in the eve for birds to be active. A few solitary calls. No mating and ruckus stuff like the doves and kookaburras have been of late. They hang around and make one hell of a fuss. The males preen and sing as the female plays hard to get.

The sky is powder blue with non-promising clouds. Thick grey-ish clouds but I don’t feel moisture in the air.

We need rain.

And the beat goez on…

More later

This is going to be a tale of an old-fart. An old-fart’s tale…

I think back in time. when I was still a “working-stiff”. Up in the morn, to work by a set time, a morning of bizzyness, a lunch of some sort- often liquid, an afternoon of more dizziness, head home at a set time, call into the local watering-hole, homeward after a set amount of lubricative sedative, family, n home and supper and shower and bed… then up in the morn again.

I cranked and wanked for a solid 30 years. I wore a uniform. Had hours and responsibilities and, as a business owner, I had bills and loans and debt and commitments. Monday – Friday was standard, with at least a half day on Saturday, and usually a quiet Sunday afternoon in-office catching up and closing out.

My job description was never distinct. I never got paid by-the-hour.

In the 90s I was lean and hungry and never said, “…no, I cant”, ever. My commercial loan applications were wonderful works of fiction.

In the new-century… As I was pushing 50, my business had grown, my debts and commitments increased, my schedule cranked and wanked more, and more. Bank-managers/ Wank-managers called me up and invited me out and negotiated for my business. I had good suits, and a bizzy schedule, and flew dizziness class, and had a damn good time of it all. Ended up with over 250 employees.

I “retired” as 2011 rolled around. At that time my routine completely changed. As retired-ol-fart there is no frenetic, demanding routine. Of course there is a routine but its not set-in-stone, or demanding, or penalising like before. What ever routine you have as an ol-fart is of your own making.

I gave up going to the pub and starting drinking at home. I decided I preferred my own cooking so gave up going out at all. My suits go unworn.

I found I normally woke earlier and worked harder once retired. I cultivated hobbies and rekindled old joys such as family and cultivation and dogs and things that shine and go real fast.

One of the things I recall from about 2005, when I was still kicking-arse and taking-… business-names… going into the Point Cruz Yacht Club (PCYC) in Honiara after work…

I’d buy my first liquid-sedative and slide up to what was notoriously referred to as “Table Number One”.

It took me a couple decades to graduate to Table Number One. From the lowly Volunteer, to the young-bloke trying to make a go in business, to the heard-of but still enigmatic Yank-from-the-West, to the guy who owed heaps to all the banks and was known by all.

Table Number One was reserved for the Old-Boys. The Bankers and Wankers and Managers and Accountants and Lawyers… And those business-dudes who owed enough to be impotent.

I was a young-bloke in the old-bloke clique.

So, one day as I dump my first brew down my throat, as I listen-in to the conversation that’s already started, I have a very clear thought… I bang my bottled-brew on the table and say in aloud voice, “Stop It! You guys are talking about your last doctor’s visit, about your next appointment. Stop it. What about fast cars and loud engines and beautiful boats and daring exploits and good looking women and , well, what about talking about fun stuff? Interesting stuff?”.

The collective of ol-farts looked at me for moment, pensively puffed their fags, sipped their quickly warming brews, then returned to their previous conversations.

Today’s story is one of an ol-fart feeling pretty damn good…

I’m 5 weeks and 3 days out from shoulder replacement surgery. And I feel pretty damn good. I’m done with appointments and rehab and physio. I feel pretty damn good.

It’s a hapi-ol-fart tale.

Smiles

It’s about 330am on the 6th of August. I lie ‘in a hospital bed, watching ol-Skool music vidz. I type this one handed. My other hand is in a sling, still numb from the nerve block I was given about 12 hours ago.

I’m surprised how good I feel. Considering they took a saw to my bones, I’m feeling no real pain. I’m sure it’ll come but feeling and movement in my hand has returned. I’m impressed.

The worse discomfort comes from being in bed so long. My butt aches.

But the shoulder feels pretty good.

There is the required IV in my right arm. A tube blowing oxygen wrapped under my nose. My left arm is in a sling and as the numbness wears off my thumb is what hurts a bit. Both legs below the knees are wrapped in pneumatic leggings. A small compressor alternately compresses one leg then the other. The damn compressor is quite noisy. Have morphine on tap but don’t need it. I think I’ll try a zap an experiment… there, l just pushed the little button, lets see what the effect is…

I am not a fan of hospitals. Have not been hospitalised since I burst an ear drum at the age of 13/14. But I guess this is all is part of ageing?

I’d like to think I could get out of here tomorrow.

Time will tell.

No noticeable effect from the morphine…

More later

It’s Sunday eve here.

My normal Sunday post is about “Sunday coming down”.

Not today. I didn’t really do much of anything today. I sat in anticipation of tomorrow. Watched a bit of TV. Interacted with the kids and family. But nothing I did was of “the coming down” nature I often write about.

I’m Fixn’ at packing my bag to check into the hospital tomorrow. I’m going in to get my shoulder replaced.

My years of use and abuse have caught up with me. My active and oft times daring/foolish lifestyle has seen me beaten and battered and cut and abraded and injured, way too many times.

The left shoulder has suffered a lot. I kinda think its because my right side is my dominant/ strong side. Or maybe because of the big arsed steel davit that fell on me in about 1991 and landed square across that shoulder? Or that the seat belt in the car I totalled in 2001 ran left to right. Or…

I’ve had Doctors and Insurers ask me how I got injured. I answer “which time?”.

Wuz it when I jumped off a cliff in the 70s and attempted to stop my downward momentum by grabbing a root sticking out of the soil? I felt my shoulder go “snap”. Or when I fell under a telephone-pole sized mangrove post I was carrying with a bunch of students at Choiseul Bay? Muddy ground, big arsed pole, a bunch of kids smarter than me who tossed the pole away as we fell. I had to hang onto it and take the thumping. Or when I had a big steel davit collapse under my weight in the early 90s and land square across me? I was pinned under water for a while but managed to wriggle out from under the over 500kgs of weight. Or the totalling of my new Mustang in 2001? I viciously T’d a van and got even more viciously restrained by my seat belt. Or the near death experience on my Trusty Triumph riding from LA to SanFran in 2015? At 70+mph I hit a lump of timber and my bike flew into the air. I managed to keep it all together but the landing sent a shockwave up my arm and into my shoulder.

All these tales are kinda funny. Each left me sore and bruised. But it’s just in recent years that I’ve succumbed to the damage. I’m running bone-on-bone and it hurts all the time. ALL The TIME! Sleep isn’t assured, complete, nor painless. So I went to see the Saw-Bones.

My life has been a hoot, I don’t regret any of my bad choices or mishaps or accidents. I’ll be the first to admit its been one hell of a party and to have held together for over 60years without crippling myself more, is a miracle of sorts, but… BUT…

I’m pretty beat up, generally, my shoulder is shot. I need to go in for repairs.

This what the repair work looks like…

They reverse the ball and socket. A combination of titanium and metal. My first step into being bionic.

My first step into being an offical ol fart.

And the beat goes on…

More later

I am agitated. I am paying attention to US-Politics, listening to the DNC dog-n-pony show they call a debate. It is a variety show. A reality show. It is as important as “American Chopper”. And less entertaining.

There is so much to say about it all: How its nothing but the commercialising of the political “scene”. It’s more about “ratings” than any single thing of substance. That the “candidates” are all puppets. Marionettes. Unpolished actors. All wannabe, gonnabe gods. All are hypocrites.

Call me harsh.

One thing does make me happy: I see the Electorate becoming more astute. I believe that the current confusion in the Political Venue is a symptom of the Electorate becoming more aware. The Electorate has been in a decided malaise for some 50-odd years. Perhaps the world is too distracting or too much fun, for folks to be interested in the Political Venue.

I believe that the election of DJTrump to the Highest Office In The Land is a direct effect of the Electorate’s Awakening.

I hear you scoff. Make no doubt, I am no fan of DJTrump, or any other modern day politician. I believe all are cogs in the corrupt and biased system. Any individual who seeks Office has no hope of NOT being drafted into the corruption and misuse and abuse. Abuse of the System by the Elite.

The last election cycle was very much suppose to be a continuance of Control of the System by the anointed ELITE. Clinton represented the ELITE. The entrenched ELITE practices and prestidigitation that has kept the Masses entertained for decades.

But the Electorate saw through the Kings New Clothes. The entrenched ELITE was rejected. Both DNC and RNC.

And we got DJTrump.

I am so pleased that the ELECTORATE became aware. The great and powerful OZ, is not.

Campaign Promises are nothing more than bate to the schooling fish who are the Electorate. Chum the water in the right way and you attract the right fish, the targeted vote… Promises of citizenship for all illegal aliens is a powerful elixir. Free medical. Wow! Forgive student debt; if you never took a strident loan, this would not attract you. If you’ve (like me) paid your student debt, I doubt you’ll support. BUT! There are a whole bunch of people within a wide selection of ages whom is attracted. Reparations. I wonder if they do forgive student debt, can I claim reparations for the debt I paid off? Gun reform. Abortion. Education. Climate. Foreign Affairs. So much of import.

I listen to the rhetoric: Could be… If we… I think… Definitely maybe…

A Hundred Years Ago: The average person managed much less information. They were less informed/ exposed. But they were not less intelligent. Their understanding of their world was very astute. When I read a news paper from 1919, I note a vocabulary not seen in the modern press. I feel more intelligent when I read old papers.

I believe there has been a “dumbing-down” of the population. The dumbing-down of the Electorate.

And this is coming to an end, or so me thinks.

And this makes me happy.

Smiles

I am struggling with these sanctimonious arseholes who live in mansions with armed body guards and an elite lifestyle, preach about the inequality between wealthy and poor. They make me want to vomit! They all have sob-stories and act like they give a shit.

DO NOT BE FOOLED…

Just checking the net worth of the numerous 2020 candidates that have announced to-date. A quick check and I get this:

https://www.opensecrets.org/2020-presidential-race/financial-disclosures-and-net-worth

Lets see… We know Trump is worth a whole bunch. He likes to tell us such.

Biden is wealthy. He’s been in formal elected office since before Noah sailed the briney blue and has accumulated up to 25mil in personal wealth. He was first elected to office in 1973.

Corey Booker is only worth a measly mil. But he has been in the halls of elected elite only six years.

Bullock is worth 2mil. Has been in elected office for six years.

Butigeig is a pauper in comparison. Has held office for seven years.

Castro only worth half a mil. Has been in various political offices for ten years.

De Blassio we know is a mega-dude. Has been an inside player for ever. And probably the worse Mayor NYC has ever elected.

Delaney is at 200mil. Been in office for six years and a player for ever.

Gabbard only half a mil. Been in office six years.

Kampala Harris is worth up to 6 mil. Only been in office two years but has been a player for quite a while.

Hickenlooper is a known mega-dude. Has been a player forever and elected to office for over eight years.

Inslee is worth a solid mil. Been in a lot of elected positions for almost 30years.

Amy Klobochar up to 2mil. Been a player for ages and elected to office for over 20years.

Moulton claims to be. A pauper . Been elected to office for over 4 years.

O’Rourke up to 16mil. Been elected to office past 6years.

Bernie is a solid millionaire. Been in elected office and a player (of sorts) since 1991.

Warren is worth 11mil. Been elected to office past 6years.

Weld claims to be a pauper. Has been a player for ever and in elected office for over 20years.

Williamson’s is worth up to 2 mil. Not a political player. An author and activist.

Yang is worth put to 2 mil. Has been in elected office for 2years.

I met a most extraordinary human this past week. The sorta person that is a living role model to all, and a hero in the making.

But first, I need to decompress a bit. I’m just back from a few hours of driving. Went to watch Mendoza play rugby. It was an interesting trip…

On the road by 10am for a 12noon game. The location is “the-other-side-of-Brisbane”, so we need to either drive through or under the city. Under is my preference.

Brisbane has a very usable system of tunnels. A few weeks back the GPS took us around the tunnels (tolls- switch was on) and it was a major drama. So today I successfully evaded the GPS desires, made the tunnels without drama, then hit a very big delay. A truck had overturned at a major intersection. It cost us an extra half hour to navigate the matter. Lots of impatient drivers.

So we arrive at the venue, almost on Time. There are no less than six playing fields, all busy. Grace runs to the pit-stop and I survey the fields looking for M. It’s hard to determine where he is with teams playing and teams warming up and at rest. As I look he walks up behind me.

His game had started early and he’d been tacked and cracked a rib within the first few minutes. He has ice on his ribs and is moving slow. He was going to catch the next available bus back to school. We had brought a couple bigmacs and fries and drinks for him, he’s always hungry, which indeed makes the trip worthwhile. And such it ends, without seeing him play, we headed back home.

So Saturday’s traffic was OK, for a Saturday. We got home about 2pm. It’s sunny and warm but will chill-off quickly as the sun sets. Within an hour and a half it’ll be winter again.

I decided to get my buggered shoulder repaired. I am told (and shown) that the ball and socket joint of my shoulder is running bone on bone. Of course I know this. I can feel the grinding when I move my shoulder. It has been sore and getting worse for a few years. I’ve decided to get it sorted. I’m tired of being half-disabled. I miss being strong.

Australia has a very usable socialised medical system. Doctors are good, facilities are good, medical support and research is great. Wait times are minimal. Availability of specialty services is extreme. Any new radical process – or old well know process, is readily available.

The system is even easier for me because I pay-to-use. All medical service here falls under some form of a government sponsorship. Not for me. I dont get any benefits. I am not a citizen nor am I a permanent resident. I was allowed to retire here noting well I could expect zero benefits from the CommonWealth.

I have no problems with this. The services are great, and because I pay-to-use, I dont have to hassle with insurance or government entitlements.

It is in this search to have my buggered shoulder repaired that I found Dr. Bernard Tamba-Lebbie. http://www.tambamed.com/whoweare.html

Amazing tale. A very positive, pleasant person. He’d had Peace Corps Volunteers teachers when he was young. I assumed such and mentioned my PCV past. We are good buddies now.

It all happened so fast…

After deciding to seek treatment, going to a GP for directions, within two weeks I have a specialist I feel good about, and a date to be knocked out and cut open. A complete shoulder replacement.

I’m going to ask for the ball part of the bone they’ll need to cut off. I’ll use it as a shift-nob for the Shelby…

Smiles

A sunny Tuesday afternoon. Been running for a couple days… Yesterday, ran the boys back to school, spent the night and the morn on the farm. Back at the Palmwoods ranch now.

Just got nailed by something itchy. My right wrist is bumpy with hives. A pollen reaction no doubt. Or is it an allergy to the newz I am watching?

I am trying to count how many decades have past since we were fervently in favour of a death to the US two-party-system. Through the 70s, 80s, 90s, 2k, 2.010k… Damn! Makes me feel old.

I’m watching as the Democrats I knew so well decades ago, change. They are eating themselves. They’re allowing petulant children stand up to, and disrespect petulant elders. I have written about the far-left shift and feel that it, like many fads, will fade away… remember platform shoes?

But I am wondering where the “lessons of age” may be? When I was young(er), I was much more liberal minded, but fiscally uneducated. Now I still possess many of my liberal minded beliefs and concepts, but am fiscally wise-er…

I think all countries must offer decent, positive socialised medical. It’s more difficult to deliver than to discuss. But there exist very good models. I have written about the fact that US spends way, way more per capital for health care that say, Australia. For what the US spends, wastes, squanders… they could well offer positive cover. And world wide… the solution could be found if GREED could be overcome. The amount of “aid” purveyed about is not unappreciable.

Education is 1000% necessary, should be FREE and compulsory to a certain level, maybe highschool. Apprenticeships are a thing of the past and should be reintroduced. Positive performance should (and does to a degree) open fiscal doors. A great young mind can easily be educated no matter what the cost. As well: Educators should be held in the highest esteem and monetarily compensated appropriately.

Boarders should be controlled. It means something to be a CITIZEN of a Nation. Citizenship holds rights and privileges (and responsibilities) and should be respected.

A strong Military/ Constabulary is required. They should be well trained, well equipped and well remunerated.

Of course, the GOP has been morphing in a couple directions for about a decade.

The DNC is struggling, at best.

So what comes from this?

I predict the introduction of a couple new parties, strong parties.

Lets see if I am right… time will tell…

Smiles

Or is it “Sunday coming down”?

I am sitting outside the Palmwoods house. The air is cold, the sun is warm. I’m sitting in a folding chair outside my shed, my workshop… the sky is an unbelievable blue.

The air is crisp and the sun is lovely…

Bob Seger’s “against the wind” was just on the local old-fart radio station. Neal Young’s “old man” is playing now.

Old man take a look at my life…

I sang this when I was young.

Now I’m the Old Man… maybe… sorta…

It’s Sunday here in Queensland. Last day of a school-holiday. Boys go back tomorrow. Paul n Betsy have already started studies.

It’s been a very good “HOLIDAY”.

The boys got to go to the Solos… Grace and I chased the Eclipse and visited Rapa Nui.

We’ve been back a week. Been catching up. Sleeping a lot.

It all ends tomorrow.

It’s a big clean up day on the Hemmerville Ranch today. Boys n babes. Moms n dads n grannies… Gotta give the house a “what’s-for”.

Carpets n cushions n dining room table, toys, drum-kit… all in the sun for a good airing.

And the beat goez on… Neighbor, Anne, just stoped by for a drink…

Life is guud… more later…

Out n about on a fickle Rupa Nuian day. Wind n sunshine and rainbows (yes plural)…

I have said before that this place, the stories here, the history and the myths are all responsible for my Pacific wandering.

It’s great to visit and see first hand and touch and smell and see the “reality” of it all.

Out guide is a Rapa Nuian lady, Mara (I may have her name wrong), who is a strong and proud descendant of the original Polynesians that first peopled this island. It’s a pleasure to hear her historical accounts, and to hear her personal tales…

The mystery of this place isn’t as mysterious as National Geographic would lead us to believe. The age old tale of tribal/ familial cooperation, of resource loss leading to inter-tribal disputes to eventual suffering… a classical riches to rags tale with an island setting.

The isolation of this place is palatable. Coming from the Solomons this is an amazing sea scape for me. I’m used to looking off shore and seeing much, much more…

Gracie though it was kinda chilly…

I thought it was grand…We are sitting front of a huge volcanic crater…

I thought this was cool… have never seen a sign like it…

An amazing but frightening view… nothing beyond these shore for as far as one can perceive. How the originals found this place is pretty amazing…

We never tire of rainbows, do we?

More later

Time travel can be tough. Either not enough sleep, or too much sleep, or sleep at the wrong time.

I did not sleep much on the flight over from the East. When we arrived we had; a few hassles and it took a few dramas and mishaps before we got to the hotel. The car/ transfer we’d booked d’id not show up so we got a taxi. Of course we are working under a language deficit barrier so I showed the driver the hotel’s address. He knew where we were going and I certainly did not so any argument or assistance from me was impotent.

We it delayed and detoured by a protest. Cops and redirections so the ride took quite a while. We got to the hotel and unloaded started to check in only to find we were at the wrong hotel. Same name but different location.

My 80USD fare did. Get us where we needed to be, so another taxi ride was required and another fare paid before we found where our bed for the night was.

We checked in by maybe 330pm. Showers were the first required activity. after a shower I went to the desk n sorted the missed car out. I ensured the car for 630am was organised, and drank 2x nice heavy beers at the bar.

I was very floaty n hapi as I closed all the important business for the day out and headed back to the room.

By the time I got back to the room Grace was asleep. So I plugged in and got up to date, ordered some room service.

By 7pm supper was done and I was in bed watching a Transformer movie dubbed in Spanish with Spanish subtitles. I don’t think I had my eyes open for much of it.

By 5am we were up and moving, by 630am we were ‘on the road to the airport. Grace had slept too much too early and had stayed up watching TV. I probably went to sleep a bit early. By 5am I was very ready to get up and moving. grace wanted to stay ‘in bed.

It’s 8am on a Sunday morn. I’m sitting in the departure lounge of Santiago domestic airport. We are heading to Easter Island for a few days.

The adventure of getting to where we are has indeed been an adventure… The language barrier is part of it, the cultural and national and regional differences adds to it all. The various differences that one normally takes for granted. An example… The Flight to EI is like flying to another country. It has a completely seperate customs and security clearance. It took us ages to find, with several smiling requests for directions… we got 2x on second floor, 1x 3rd floor, one turn right at the elevator (that we could not find) and one turn left. So we wandered around an office area of the airport for quite some time. And no one got frightened or annoyed or scared. In the US or Aus or Europe we’d have caused a security alert.

Our flight was called. It was a mad crush to get onboard. Very little straight line waiting. So I showed my scrum skills and we got on pretty easy. Again, in other lands the ropes are narrow and the lines straight. Not here.

It’s a 6+ hour flight from the mainland to Easter Islands. It was comfortable and uneventful. Once we landed we were shown to the hotel and by 3pm we were having a seafood in coconut milk soup. It was pretty good.

Our after-meal walk was not arduous. Jet lag and a full belly kept us from going to far. Tomorrow we have a nice lady who’ll show us around and tell us some stories.

Struggling to upload Picts so for no only words.

More later

It’s starting… that weary, tired, ragged sorta jet-laggy numbness of the head.

We were up and running closer to 3am than 4, then on the road to Brisbane, then a 8am flight, only a short hop across the “pond”, to Auckland.

And here we sit. The lounge is comfortable, the morning has gone with out a hitch, we wait for our flight to Santiago.

Grace staying warm in Auckland…

She looks happy with her seat assignment…

It’s easy to be patient when you know you have hours of waiting ahead …

We sit for three hours, which is easy. Then we hop on an eleven-hour flight, landing in Santiago only four hours after our departure from Brisbane.

I call it all “time-travel”. Travelling west-to-east, running from the day. Honest to goodness time travel.

It was chilly this morn at 4am.

It’s “winter” on this side of the planet. Not the winters all-you Iowans know. More like a northernCali winter. And where we’re heading is going to be even more wintery…

We are heading to Chile. That long, lean mountainous land of ancient lives and modern fun. Our primary aim for the trip is to view the Solar Eclipse on the 2nd of July.

This will be my second “adult” eclipse, Gracie’s first. The path of totality for this eclipse is narrow and touches little land. I think we’ll get well over 2 minutes “in the shadow”.

It does not sound like much, “over 2 minutes”. But when it comes to the most spectacular and rare sky-show known to man… well, hell! Two minutes is as much as is possible this year. And it’ll be very, very cool.

I got to view the 2017 eclipse from a great location in Idaho. The event was put together by an eclectic group of eccentric people. A comfy camp in the middle of the mountains for a couple days with interesting people. Our time in totality was a bit under 3 minutes.

And I got kinda hooked.

While in Idaho in 2017 there was talk of an event in 2019 in Chile. This one was going to be a hard-one, a difficult one to get a decent amount of view time. It was going to be remote. It was going to be costly. It was going to be a pretty special event… So when I received an invite months and months ago, I jumped in with both feet. And Gracie.

So we fly in a bit early and go visit a bucket-list-location… Easter Island, also known as Rapa Nui.

We’ll spend a few days visiting that ancient and mysterious island. I’m keen to have a look around. Ever since I was a kid I have been enthralled by the sightless stone guardians raised in a time lost by peoples unknown.

On the 26th we’ll fly back to Santiago and join up with the group of “eclipse-chasers”. 50 total, we’ll spend 3 days being tourists, then head high up in the mountains to “Camp Eclipse” for 3 days of dry-mountain-cold…

And the beat goes on… with that floaty, jet-laggy feeling…

More later