The Native Iowan

Day #3 finds me in Duchesne, Utah… https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duchesne,_Utah

What a neat place!. Very happy to be comfortably ensconced in a very cool small town Luxury Accomodation & Suites.

I had a feed in a very cool, small town cafe.  Fucking Home Made Cauliflower soup!!! Then mashed potatoes and beast n gravy. DAMN!!!!

Did I say DAMN!?

I am very happy…

Did I say the ride was epic? Well, at least the last part… Price to Duchesne was killer. Breath taking. Scary. Demanding. Exhilarating… 

Only 55 miles. It took me well over an hour. Highest elevation over the mountain was 9000 feet. The climb up, then the running decent were both cool. Traffic was kind, and what I did encounter I easily got around. Ended up running through some impressive scenery. My darn helmet cam ain’t camm’n so no shots. Bummed but then I never take photos anyway and just cause I got a nifty new cam, well hell, I expect it to work. Foolish me!

And another circuitous day, with not huge distances gained, nor high speeds overall, but mostly very good riding… Up 15 and over on 70 is speedracer stuff. 90 miles an hour easy. Round big sweeping curves through majestic formations at horrifying heights, Pretty cool ride…

I want to talk about HWY 191… Looks like it starts at Agua Prieta, on the US/ Mexican border, and runs north to Morgan, on the US/ Canadian boarder. I was on 191 a bit a few years ago when riding through Utah and into Colorado. Pretty impressive road way… 

One thing that strikes my fancy is that it runs right through Yellowstone Park…

I think I’ll ride through Yellowstone.

I think I’ll travel as far north as I can for two more days. I need to be in Idaho on the 19th. I have booked a tent in the mountains from which to view the coming Solar Eclipse. An eclectic, ad hoc tent city. Should be cool.

I’ll head for Jackson, Wyoming tomorrow, and Bozeman on Thursday. Gives me an easy day’s ride back south the 19th.

This aimless travel is kinda good for the soul…

More later

A great day!

A strange, wandering route. And I end up at a gem of a little place, Cedar City, Utah. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cedar_City,_Utah

I ended up on Utah Highway 14, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Utah_State_Route_14

The entire day was cool. Not a terribly long ride, and 7 hours is easy enough, but the country I rode through was worth the price of admission…

First stop this morn was the Grand Canyon… Of course, nothing but a big hole in the ground, but damn! What an awe inspiring big hole.

Didn’t stop a lot today. Not did I get to go very fast. The parks are all slower speed limits. But traffic was kind. I really enjoyed the diverse landscapes. The very best was my last hour today, riding through the cedar forest. The air was scented by the astringent-ish smell of the tress. It was very nice…

Got lucky with the light on this one…

Wide open and endless vistas…

Zoom in… You’ll see a 3-mule-team pulling a covered wagon…

Lakes in the drylands…

At repose…

more later…

Always liked the term “naked” when it comes to 2 wheeled motoring… It naturally appealed to my repressed catholic sense of propriety…..

I sit in Kingman, Arizona. Day #1 of my 2017 naked ride through the highways and byways of the USA. And it has been a few years, eh? Been a few years since I got to long-ride across the US ofA.

Day #1: 

So 5hours over 300 miles. I know, not a record but I am starting slow, working easily into what will be a lot of long hours on my trusty Triumph…

Was in the saddle by 10am this morn. First leg lasted about 2 hours/ 150 miles. Mostly high volume big city traffic. I get in the fast lane and just ride with the traffic. Speed limit says 65mph, traffic running 75 to 80.

So I just ride in the flow.

Once away from the city, once past Barstow and heading east toward Flagstaff, traffic is almost nonexistent. I just cruise at about 85/ 90mph.

The big blue and yellow sign says “welcome to Arizona”. If you zoom in you’ll see I am doing 80mph/ 140kph…

Tomorrow I am going to head north-east from here and go take a look at the Grand Canyon… 

More later…

Sitting in Pasadena. Landed 7am yesterday. Was here by about 830. Was a productive throughout the day…

First and foremost on my list of things to do was to get my Thruxton into be serviced. I had given the bike-place a call from Aus… check out…  http://www.proitalia.com/service/.  If you need a bike or some bike work in the LA area, don’t go further than these guys.

So, Saturday morn and all is well… managed to fight the jet-lag bug yesterday. Was busy all day, had my bike sorted by about 3pm then Connie and I went out in search os sustenance and sedative… we found both at BJ’s… A salad and a pizza and half a dozen glasses of ale and I was a happy camper. Stayed up and organised until about 10pm, slept well and was up and happy by 7am this fine SoCal day.

I know this does not look like much, but one of the things that makes me HAPPY is my Evan Wilcox tins are here and ready to be sent to genius Jim in Aus… yea, right, tins and geniuses… I hear you, what are you on about???

Genius Jim is my britt-bike man in Aus. He rebuilt the 66 

Is working on the 69 Atlas. And has the 52 Triton… 

The aim of the Triton rebuild is to turn it (back) into a truck track-babe. We’ll give the engine a big punch and aim to have on the vintage racing circuit before to long.

The main hold-up on the project was getting the right tanks (tins) for it… I did my research and found that the dude who does the best and the coolest is here in SoCal, his name is Evan Wilcox… check out http://www.wilcoxmetal.com/england.htm.

The gig is this… when you give Evan a call to talk tanks, he tells you straight up that he has 2 years of work on his books. You give him a $100.00 deposit and you get on his list. He’ll build them when he gets to you… So I paid the deposit and waited. Somewhere last year my turn came but I waited a few more months due to “backlog”, and the tins git built early this year. All was complete sometime in April.

So the tins have been waiting for me here for some time. I opened the boxes up last night and had a peek… 

Look nice, don’t they????

More later

I am siting at Brisbane International airport. And I got a ticket to fly… got a ticket to ride too…

As usual, it’s a long story… for now I am content to sit n drink a nice coffee, enjoy the rattle n humm of the lounge where people congregate in preparation for their respective travels.

And Brisbane International is a humming place… a cross roads of Asia and the Pacific.

It is a humming place…

Me, I am just cruising…

Friday August 11 2017, flying to LAX from BNE. Hit LAX is about 17 hours. It’ll be Friday morning there, when I land. So some time travel is required in order to have loads n loads of fun. And fun on 2 wheels, I might add…

I am flying over the big pacific pond to hop on my trusted Triumph and ride. I am looking forward to it… Simply enjoy the long lonesome roads the USofA offers the intrepid 2wheeler. Off the top of my head I expect to pass through: California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansa, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Wyoming, Maybe the Dakotas, Utah, Idaho, Colorado, some of Montana, and Nevada. If I go into Michigan need to add Wisconsin an Minnesota.

So I hit LA Friday morn. I’ll grab a taxi to Pasadena. Wake Connie up. Get into “my” apartment, and start sorting my bike out. It has been sitting for 24 months. Even longer… Was August 2015 when I parked it after my last long-ride. This bike is a new one… I had traded my pervious Thruxton in when I got back from the ride with the Aussie boys. I had traded it in but had never really rode the new bike much at all. Cant really remember but I doubt it has 200 miles on the clock.

So I’ll hit the ground running, get the bike charged and then send it over to the shop to be serviced in the afternoon. All things being equal I should have it back Saturday some time. That means I can ride as early as Monday.

Still trying to decide what my first leg will be. If I can get out early enough I’d be keen to aim for Texas… Been hankering to look Uncle Teddy Selman up. Pasadena to Orange is only 1700 miles… 3 days. Three long days.

Or maybe a quick run up to Missoula to see the Filardi tribe. Perfect time of the year to ride in Montana.

Time will tell. First is the servicing on the bike. Second is a review of time and distances. Third is external needs and demands. Once I sort these things out I’ll know what I am going to do.

I know I need to make it to Iowa. Need to stop by and see my mom in Independence. I would like to do a northerly run into Michigan to see my ol buddy The Dancing Bear. Have a tent in the mountains booked for the solar eclipse on the 21st so that’s a big-un I need to keep track of. My flight back is the 7th of Sept.. So everything needs to be done n dusted within 4 weeks.

Got a new toy I shall be putting to use this trip… A NUVIZ heads up display unit for my helmet… 

It’s a unit that pairs with the phone and does general GPS duty plus camera and music and such. The trick with it is it gives you a “right eye” visual. The map it displays is small, but the verbal directions work real well. I like that it gives speed without looking down at the bike. I have tested it in Aus and so far am pleased with the freedom a heads-up gives me on my bike. As I ride this next trip I will review and write more on this nifty new toy…

To make the NUVIZ work I had to buy a new helmet… My standard “flip front” helmets don’t work too well with the NUVIZ so I went to a full face… Took some shopping but I found one that fits pretty good. Not sure about the graphics on it… 

I first thought it was a spider – cool – but then realised its an ant… which is cool too, I guess…

The lounge has just cleared out. The humm has decreased. Makes me wonder if my clock is wrong…

And life is good.

More to come…

Smiles

I am siting on the ridge above Honiara. Weather is overcast and rainy.  Temps are pleasant. A cool breeze rustles the vegetation. Birds sing.

The sky is hazy. I can only make out a feint outline of the Florida Islands. The seas are flat and grey. Cooking a big hunk of beast on the bbq for this eve. It is smelling great.

The hounds have aggregated around my table. All five of them loiter leisurely. I like having my hounds around me. This is Iowa and Rhett…

Eric Clapton, John Mayal and the Blues Breakers are singing about having rambling on their mind. The hounds like the tunes.

I am preparing to fly back south tomorrow. My time spent in these islands is always poignant, both sweet and bitter sweet. Both fun and frenetic and laidback and luxurious. From a full day of “office work” to a long day and a longer night sitting out on the water watching the stars and listening to the waves.

Every trip to these islands provides another worthy tale. Another story in the ol-skool EPIC tradition.

And I do have another classic “island tale”…

A tale of woe, severe hangovers, planes to catch, transfers from island to island, and very important cargo.

No doubt, many of my faithful readers have indeed experienced similar, noting most y’all have been drunk, delayed and painfully hung-over, if not in the islands – somewhere/ sometime- in life…

The story begins:

A Thursday morn, a 430am wakeup in Palmwoods, Qld, AU. My bags are packed. My trusty 20 year old truck is fueled up and ready for the run to the airport.

It should be easy – but for “The Bruce”.

One of things I really, really like about our place in Palmwoods is that it is not more than an hour and a half from our door to the International airport in Brisbane. If “The Bruce” cooperates.

The only road from door to door is known as “The Bruce Highway”. (remember Monty Python with their Aussie “Bruce” routine?)

Anyway, “The Bruce” is the only viable road to the airport. Of course, you can drive an hour inland, then an hour or so south, and you’ll be about an hour from the airport. Not ideal.

The Bruce is the arterial roadway from North of Brisbane into the city. For all vehicles, persons and pets living north of The City.

When traffic is kind (very kind) you can do the run in a bit over an hour. If traffic is unkind you simply do not get anywhere.

Last November I was traveling home from a trip and it took me 6 hours to do the run. A multiple vehicle pileup had taken place less than 45 minutes from home. Both lanes were completely closed.  I sat in traffic, engine off, for over 4 hours. The dual-lane roadway was a parking lot. I could not get off. I could not turn around.

So, Tuesday morn, I hit the road early. My flight is at 10am, so I am on the road by 6. This gives me up to 3 hours to do the run and still make my flight.

And all is well.

Traffic is not “bad”. I do the run in under 2 hours. Check in and am sitting in the lounge with well over an hour to kill.

The flight was non-eventful. Walked straight out of customs and immigration into the wet-heat of Honiara. Paul is waiting and we are home pretty quickly.

Paul and I are flying to Gizo the next morn so we have things to discuss and a dinner with a friend/ business associate at 7pm. We do a bit of work, play with the babies before supper.

All is good. What could go wrong in my world?

Anyway, buddy Hans at San Bis http://www.sanbisresort.com asked if I could bring up some good meat. On the way from the airport to Tasahe we stopped and bought a full rib fillet. It weighed over 6kgs and cost over 2000 SBD. Its frozen so I set it out to thaw so I can cut it. I’ll take half up to Hans and cook the other half when I get back next week.

All is good.

Time comes for us to head down to the Mendana for a Japanese meal. Our buddy, Clive, is on time so we have a couple beers before supper. Order a big mess of raw fish as an entre, and open a nice bottle of red to breath before supper.

The beer was cold, the raw fish delicious, the Bento Box very good – it went surprisingly well with the bottle of red. We are having fun telling tales and discussing people we know. Basic bullshit/ gossip session moderately fueled by alcohol.

Clive is the guy who is doing the Chokolate here. Check out: http://www.solomonsgold.co.nz/

So we are having too much fun.Clive suggests cognac and chokolate for desert and heads to his room for both.

A friend of Paul’s, Peter, has called. He was at a different watering hole and was wondering when Paul would be done and ready for a night-cap. Paul invites Peter to join us.

So Clive brings a good (if not great) bottle of Hennessey and a selection of his life’s work. We settle into sips of dark-brown-hot fluid and nibbles on bitter-dark-sweetstuff. And time flies…

Paul brought the bottle home as a trophy: 

And time flies by. I have no clue what time we dispersed from the Mendana but the bottle was empty and the chocolate all devoured.

That’s the good news, we had a great feed with grand company topped off by glorious grog… The bad news is Peter is renting a house from us and lives in the compound, so he heads home with Paul and I… where he promptly gets his guitar out and we start having fun… more fun… we can’t let the fun stop… we want fun, more fun…too much fun…

Peter is an eclectic string-tickler with a passion for the blues with a slide on his finger. He is pretty good, sober or drunk.

All is good. What could go wrong?

Friday morn I wake to noise of a family on the move. Paul is rolling his bag to the car, Betsy is making noise with her household of females, we’ll be heading to the airport “soon”. I hear… It is 7am.

I am on the couch. Did not make it to bed. I very little recollection of even getting into my house. My bags though are packed and I am pretty much ready to walk out. A quick shower and I should be good to go… but…

But I feel like death.

It has been ages and ages and ages since I have been foolish with a bottle of dark, hot, alcoholic liquid. I know them all well, the bourbons and scotches and irish and kentucky single malts and french vsops and italian brandys…  I know their lying characters…. Their promise of a sweet mouthful with a double burn as it all goes down with a smokey after burn/ taste. I love good liquor, but imbibe very rarely anymore.

I hear sniggers n snorts in the peanut gallery… yes, my father did say that I’d drink horse-piss if it was 10%, and he was not far wrong – THEN. Nowadays I am a cultured well mannered ol granddaddy. Stop the snort’n…

My hard liquor days have been over for a couple decades. I am too mature and old and smart to fall in and drown in a bottle of hard liquor…

But I feel like death.

It is a well know feeling. That feeling of being poisoned by too much fun. It is a feeling I thought I hd grown past…

All is not well in my world!

I get showered. Cut the beast in half. Put Hans’ in a big double plastic bag and the rest in the refrig. Grab my bag and head to the car where I lay down in the back and try to go comatose.

The effort of the move was too much.My equilibrium is quite unhappy…  I suppress an urge to spew. Betsy gags as I dry retch. I get the window down in time to spit. It was a close call… Betsy had the kid-lock on so I could neither get the window down or the door open… it was close.

But I exert supreme control. I know once I start spewing I won’t stop so I lay and suffer in a harsh state of self control under tremendous pressure.

I KNOW YOU HAVE BEEN THERE BEFORE, SO STOP THE SNIGGERING….

I was a bit better by the time we reached the airport.But no much.  I laid in the car as Paul checked us in. I got up to board the flight. I was carrying my backpack. Paul had the beast and his bag. I spoke little. Kept my feet in focus. One foot in front of the other… one foot in front of the other…

What could go wrong?

I have zero recall of the flight. Once in my seat I crawled into my cocoon of painful illness and woke only when the plane bounced onto Nusatupe.

So we get to Nusatupe, I am feeling ok, but very, very dusty. Paul is laughing at me. Snapping pictures for future reference. We canoe over to Gizo where I promptly climb onboard ICE and continue my recovery. It was maybe 1130 when I headed down the passageway into ICE’s airconned interior.

I slept until about 230. Got up and drained the bilges and drank some water. Shook myself like a wet dog and headed into the office to see about the work we need to get done.

My couple hours onboard ICE were as forgettable as the flight. I was proverbially “dead to the world”.

That’s when I think about the meat. As I head to the office.

Paul and Don are out. I check the refrig in the office. No meat. I check the freezer and find a crocodile. (doesn’t everyone keep a croc in the freezer?)

But no red bag of beast there…

Too much movement was making me feel queasy so I sit.

Don and Paul come back and we discuss the missing meat… we ask and look and hunt, again, and then decide it had been forgotten onboard the plane. A few more phone calls and some checking and we find that the meat is in Honiara. Back at Henderson in a refrigerator. All safe and sound.

Gotta love them islands. You can forget a big hunk of beast in a bag onboard, and its not lost. But its not here either. It’ll come up on a flight “tomorrow”.

I let Hans know what has transpired. I am going to spend the night at his place but now don’t have supper in hand. So I take a bunch of kidding and abuse.

Forgot the meat… He laughs when I say it’ll be delivered “tomorrow”. Yea, right!

We have a quiet eve at San Bis. The restaurant there does a mean chicken fricassee so we did not go hungry. I drank only water and went to bed early.

Saturday was a full day of office work. The meat did arrive on the afternoon flight. Hans was very happy. I had supper up with the family on the hill and did not get back to San Bis. We flew back here yesterday morn.

But the beast that was misplaced was indeed finally delivered. No losses incurred. Very little fallout or negativity… just a killer hang over and another great island tale.

And a good feed to be had tonight…  

Big smiles to all…

A magnificent wintry morn in Queensland. The sun is shining, the birds are noise-making and the air is crisp. I sit wrapped in a granny made afghan. The doors are open the breeze is quite chilly.

I am watching the morning newz. I am more and more perplexed by the inanities and banalities of what is nowadays considered NEWS… I guess it is part and parcel of such a “connected” world… the Prez tweets, the world shudders, rating are king, the news-reporter-types are entertainers and not reporters.

I stress this point… Where is the NEWS any more? Was good ol Walter Cronkite an entertainer? Did we go to John Carson for news? Walter reported the whowhatwherewhen of it all and Johnny lampooned all n everything.

These days things are different. We live in a world without NEWS. I cannot find honest reporting anymore. I fear it is all and only about ratings. Why report honest news when it don’t sell? People nowadays need to be entertained, not informed.

But I digress… I digress from the beauty of the world we share to wallow in the morass of the banalities and inanities…

I recently had a bit of fun with the boys… a while back a huge old gum tree in the yard dropped a branch. This branch was 40feet/ 12meters off the ground and weighed tons. It simply got too heavy for the trunk and broke off… and landed on the fence!

It is a solid branch throughout. No rot or termites. So I decide to be creative. And I decide to put my pups to work…

We can make something out of this, and have fun doing it…

First off we have a good look and decide where we’ll employ the chain saws and what we shall produce from our cuts…

First cut is toward the end of the branch… I do what the islanders would do when they wanted a strong piece of wood for an ax handle or a paddle… they carved it in the tree then finished it off after cutting it off. My idea is to make a walking stick from the heart-wood of the branch. I initiate this by roughing my stick out…I scarf the top of the branch off in situ. I cut a series of parallels with the chainsaw then attack it with the ax. This allows me to follow the “heart” of the wood, the strongest, hardest, oldest part of the branch…

It took a couple hours but I end up with a roughed out stick… 

Considering I am following the heart of the wood it shall not be straight. I have to follow the heart. So I employ a sabre saw, a machete, a big rasp, and a couple sanders and end up with this… 

Another day of soothing and shaping and the finished product makes me happy… It is strong, strong, strong. And feels and smeels great.

As I chopped n chiseled and shaped, the boys de-barked a couple of logs I chose to be fire-pit seats. Using a hatchet and a hammer the boys beat n stripped the bark from the wood. 

Thank goodness for the little tractor. These things are heavy, heavy, heavy. But the end product is very cool and works real well… With the cool weather we are out n sititng roun’ the fires most nights.

Speaking of heavy… somewhere along the line, with me and the boys attempting to fit the pieces of the seats together, I smashed a finger… 

Damn, did that hurt. Bad, bad words were said and I groaned and yelled… 10 days later and it still hurts.

And life is good…

More later

June is usually a good month. Weather, memories of school holidays, fun in the sun, nortamerica without snow… June is usually a good month.

June 2017 has been especially good, even especially great…

George and Martha (RPCVSI and ex-roommates/tenants) unexpectedly appeared in the land of Aus. They were around for Mendoza’s Bday party so they got to spend a night and meet our extended family here. It was fantastic to see them both and have a bunch of fun and smiles and laughter run’ the camp fire…

I do not have many picts of the party. Guess I am not that quick to shoot a pict when we are having sooo much fun. But I can report that the Magician and the Hypnotist and the juggler and hoola-hoop gal and the vintage soft serve ice cream truck were all a lot of fun.

A few picts of the decorations… Look at the bottom… theme of the party was “death by ice cream”…

Tho not many pictures I did take video of the shows…

Adrian and the boys made great subjects for Master Hpynomaker, Dizzy…

Brody got cut in half by Nickleby…

Both made us laugh a lot.

Mendoza’s present from “us” is a neat ol-skool aussie swag. these are water proof, go anywhere beds. Very timely because the boy is heading off to rugby camp next week…

A pict of Adrian – after he’d been hypnotised –  he was a stunned mullet the rest of the night. Son Don with baby Vera and George Meyers in the background.

For the full month Grace and I had baby DawnE with us. She is a sweetie… born at 2.02kgs she is petit, but tough. She and I had a lot of fun. Zai, she and I had lunch out n about most days. She is a cool kid with an impressive vocabulary… Life is good with babies – and dawgs…

Gracie n DawnE crashed out on the terrace…

A road trip usually means a snooze…

Me and my goil friend…

Brother n sister… big bros are good…

Just out of the pool on a chilly winters eve…

pajamas and hat and backpack…

My budding apprentice mechanic…

Zai n baby wrapped up watching TV…

My assistant tractor driver sleeping on duty…

Breakfast is ON the table…

Sunday brunch in the village…

After the walk home from Sunday brunch…

Learning about gravity….

The playhouse queen…

A baby selfie…

Watching Angelo and Mendoza’s field day at Toowoomba…

While having lunch at Rick’s… a nifty 32 ford showed up…

Motorcycle lessons in the back-40…

On the road to Toowoomba… what a cheeky grin… 

Look out July… here we come…

More later

I woke a bit pissed off this morning. I am disgruntled because of a couple things, but mainly because I hear such dumb-shit-bull-shit.

I don’t understand how bleeding heart liberals can even begin to justify heinous actions such as the suicide bombing of youths. I still hear brain-dead, spoon-fed, shit-in-their-head individuals say that the “West” deserves what they are getting.

It is a common liberal spin… “…we deserve it because of past wrongs perpetrated by generations past…”. Mea culpa. Mea culpa.

I read an article the other day (shall not try to source it) that was discussing that Islam is less of a religion but rather a political system. The gist of the article was that Islam developed and employed strategies that brought people into a communal fold of thought, not, as a religion does, but as a political movement does.

A modern Christian/ religious angle would be – ” Believe and practice as we do or the pearly gates shall be closed to you”.

The Modern Islam angle is – ” Believe and practice as we do or we will wipe your seed off the face of the planet”.

OK, ok, bleeding heart logic will point to the crusades and the Christian atrocities there in. Or the Spanish Inquisition and the Christian atrocities there in.

An attempt to justify or rationalise? I don’t know, I don’t get this weird western guilt trip at all.

There are atrocities to be found. Indeed there are.

But I struggle to find a time and place where such violence, as we have seen recently,  is justifiable.

I have lived with violence. Lived in violent settings. I have lived through a couple “civil wars”. 1st in the 90s when Bouganville fell. 2nd in 2000 when Honiara fell. I have been “there” when shots were fired and people killed. I have lived where the dudes with the biggest guns ran the show, and where those guys with the guns did as they wished.

I understand violence. I have raised my offspring with the understanding that the world is a violent place.

And the world is indeed a violent place… I woke to another ALERT. Something has happened in London. Knives and guns and vehicles into pedestrians… who knows, but the fact is that modern and public atrocities were committed.

And it pisses me off.

Some modern day martyrs, some self righteous radicals decide it is purposeful to attack defenceless citizens publicly.

I don’t get it.

And I am pissed off about it all… the news, the hysteria, the bullshit excuses and the political pontifications.

I am pissed off by it all…

Speaking of violence… UFC 212 on today.

More later

I really enjoy my time in the Islands. the basic remoteness of this place means one is less inundated with newz. The barrage of hourly/ half hourly/ prime-time newz that is common in “the world”, is less than common here.

I have not looked at a TV for 2 weeks. I confess to being an SIBC junkie. I like the newz in pijin. But it’s local newz.

World-Blo-Iu-Mi is each eve for a half hour. It’s pretty cool. But being away from the barrage of newz is both good and bad.

Good in that I feel smarter/ healthier being away from the barrage. Bad in thatnewz is important, and once back from the islands, I do need to catch up.

Of course, everywhere one travels there is a TV and usually some cable newz agency. (BBC, Al Jezeera, CNN, Fox) Entertainment sold as newz accosts the air with commentary of opinion and innuendo. And the people who watch these cable newz services end up indoctrinated into the fold of like-minded-believers. If they watch too much of one thing, they forget there is other newz, alternative newz out there…

I am oft time surprised people fail to remember that there is more than one-side to a story. And when faced with the facts irrational posturing often replaces logical thought. It bummz me out when intelligent folks become ignorant and pig headed. I say ignorant in an actual sense of the word…

John Lee Hooker plays “this is hip”. The winds blows brisk. The sun is hot, shows an intense glare. This is Hip lil baby…

I sit on in the ridges of Guadalcanal. I look out over Iron Bottom Sound. The day is hazy. I can convince myself I can see a faint outline of San Jorge.

San Jorge Island is the second largest island in the Isabel Province, Solomon Islands. The island lies at the southern end of Santa Isabel Island and borders Thousand Ships Bay. San Jorge has an area of 184 km² (71 sq mi) and has less than 1000 inhabitants living in four villages.

The first recorded sighting by Europeans was by the Spanish expedition of Álvaro de Mendaña on 21 April 1568. More precisely the sighting was due to a local voyage done by a small boat, in the accounts the brigantine Santiago, commanded by Maestre de Campo Pedro Ortega Valencia and having Hernán Gallego as pilot. They were who charted it with its present-day name, San Jorge, and also who named the narrow channel separating San Jorge from Santa Isabel Island as the Ortega channel after the commander of the expedition.

On a clear day you can see San Jorge pretty well. I’m guessing it to be maybe 60 miles from Honiara… I’ll check… not far wrong.

My hounds all hide from the sun. They seek the deep shadows where the breeze blows well. They are good dogs.

I have a few days of work to do here in Honiara, then I fly back down south. I don’t spend much time in Honiara unless I have to. Its a city. I don’t do cities very well. Never did. I find them difficult at best. Great to visit for a reason. not a place I am happy living in.

It’s be a bit redundant but I’ll publish a number of picts from my recent time out West. I know. Lots of pictures of the water and the islands… buts thats what we got here… lots of islands and lots of water…

And Life Is Good…

running home a bit late… Always enjoy night runs…

San Bis resort… well worth a visit if you ever get to Gizo…

San Bis as the sun sets…

As usual, an eclectic group of wayfarers and wastrels were hanging around for a fun night filled with conversation and lies…

Son Don, married ikiribati… 2 yr old Dawn thinks she is competent. Give her a couple years and she will be… Gilbert women are always impressive…

Don’s lady, Joanna, with baby vera…

Pretty good seas for our playing and games… 

Leaving Liapari, Gizo in the distance…

gotta be impressed… what a magnificent planet we do dwell upon…

I sit on my most recent lunacy, D.D.ICE. 

Have owned ICE over a year and have not utilised it at all. It has been a cumbersome project. A hard project to get a handle on.

I admit that I am prone to lunacies… I have a “thing” for bikes and cars and boats. I have a “thing” for off-grid adventures. I have a “thing” for risk taking. And ICE is sure a off grid, risky lunacy, thats for sure.

So I sit in the wheel house. A nice breeze filters in through the opened door. We rock gently. It’s about time I get up and “do something”…

I have SIBC (Solomon Islands Broad Casting) on the computer. I like the daily programming. “Money Matters” is on now. I really like the news in Pijin. You can stream it all via… http://mixlr.com/sibconline/.

It has been raining. Gizo harbour is pigmented with the red clay that has been flowing down Gizo hill. The skies are overcast, grey/ blue. The harbour has a brisk chop. The kids commenting to school via dug-out do so slowly, careful not to get too wet. 

I sip black coffee, eat a sweet biscuit, and think about shifting to Babanga Island… I want to get off the wharf. Go drop the anchor. Spend some time on the deck pulling lines, raising sails, testing all the running gear. I am sure some of the blocks are seized. I’ll put Abraham up the mast(s) in a bosun’s chair. Have a bit of nautical fun.

If all goes well we should aim to do a run up to Choiseul. Run the engines for 40hours nonstop. Stand watches, go somewhere, see something. I am ready to be untethered from the wharf.

Got a couple nice views of a rainbow over Kolombangara yesterday… Something magical, provocative with rainbows…

Today is my Mother’s 90th birthday. She still lives in Independence, Iowa. I wish her a very, very happy birthday and hope she gets another 90, she deserves it… 

And life is good. Very good.

More later

So it is April. First quarter of the year gone.

The world is still on fire, from within and without. But then the world has always been on fire, somewhere, somehow, all the time, the world is on fire.

I think of my youthful combustion and zeal. Fuelled by poets and prisoners. Incited by longhaired radicals, raggedy believers. Ignited by bodies in the mud, crimes, and lies. And presidential disgrace. We felt as if we had “won” something.

Just read an article about the YOUTH OF RUSSIA and their zeal… https://www.stratfor.com/geopolitical-diary/brave-new-world-kremlin?id=be1ddd5371&uuid=d1a71237-e91e-4299-b288-d2f95b0dc2ef

I listen to, read, digest the news daily. Had a real fun one yesterday…  The boat grounded after it “shit a submerged lateral marker”… made me laugh. Luv solid, honest reporting!

Speaking of which… BREAKING NEWZ… I note that the US just dropped bombs in Syria. Hmmm… interesting times. An act of aggression, overt aggression by the US of A. Against Syria… Hmmm… I am not very hawkish but I might be convinced to agree that it is about time Syria got reprimanded for killing it’s own people with GAS.

Did the Assad regime Gas it’s people. Most decidedly yes. Was this last “gassing” an Assad attack? Some say yes, some say no.

But argument over yea or nay is a planned diversion.

I do believe that the past administration was too verbal and too inactive when it came to Syria/ Assad. Too many damn lines drawn in the sand, for my liking. Bluff talk only works when it is periodically backed up.

Going to have to read up on this to decide what I think. But the fact that Assad had “destroyed” all his nerve gas stock piles may now well be proven to be a bold face lie.

And I have  a habit of not trusting proven liars.

But… BUTTT!!!!… We be talking international war. We have been here before. Are we repeating history, again, and again, and again…

Where are we? What are we doing here? Who out there does not understand that we are living in an era of conflict?

My neighbourhood is pretty cruisie.  I can leave my doors unlocked. I ma lucky.

But I know neighbourhoods that are not. Check this out for a bit of a look at our world in conflict… https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:21st-century_conflicts

We have no scope, no concept of the unspeakable horrors so, so many innocents endure.

One quick modern example: The Kobanê Massacre was a combination of suicide missions and attacks on Kurdish civilians by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant on the Kurdish-held city of Kobanî, beginning on Thursday, 25 June, and culminating on Friday, 26 June 2015.^[6][7][8] The attacks continued into 28 June, with the last remaining ISIL militant being killed on the following day. The attacks resulted in 223–233 civilians dead, as well as 35–37 Kurdish militiamen^[4] and at least 79 ISIL assailants.^[5] It was the second-largest massacre committed by ISIL since it declared a caliphate in June 2014.^{[9]      https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koban%C3%AE_massacre}

We (I) sit and watch the various news services.

I am a centrist. I do not support a political team. I do not/ can not encourage the actions of either the LEFT or the RIGHT. I hear rhetoric. I hear Rhetoric. I hear RHETORIC. I hear little else.

The President of the US of A ordered missile strikes on airfields in Syria.

I know from intimate experience that throwing a punch, “Throwing A Punch”, is not something one does lightly.

Is your punch is thrown inappropriately? Even wrongly?

I know that you can, I can appropriately throw a punch. There are situations that warrant and even demand an appropriately thrown punch.

But I have, I confess, throw inappropriate punches. I have had my arse kicked in the streets more than once. I have a dead nerve through my face from one such testosterone poisoned party. My story (and I am am sticking to it) is there we at least eight big RenBel boys packing into a little car. I remember one guy came out swinging a heavy-footed microphone stand.

Its all started because of an inappropriate punch. Well, there was a girl involved too.

So we balme it on testosterone poisoning.

What do we blame this recent Aggressive Action on?

Assad being a murdering sumabitch? Trump being trigger happy? Obama being a pussy.

Before the NEWZ came in I was going to right about happy things…

This picture is giving the scale of the space I have to squeeze into in order to fight the leak coming into ICE through the rudder shaft. To th right of my foot, and under the hydraulic ram operating the rudder is a tiny, cramped place where I need to use tools and make things happen. I have found the appropriate “bilge-yoga” poster that allows me to actually sit down and take a reasonable amount of time to do the job. 

This is a picture of David and Jackie Fegan. Having lunch on a Sunday in Honiara.My son, Don, with his pigs. Yes, Don went to school in Iowa and loves his livestock.

Don’s daughter, Dawn, and I…

looking toward Gizo town…

Pat Purcell on ICE…

Ice and Pursuit tied up at Gizo…

Best fish n chips in the world… Gizo, Solomon Islands…

Moving onto ICE. A lot of cleaning was done…

Full moon night, DD ICE @ Gizo, Solomon Islands…

Luv the Solos… Commuters @ Gizo Harbour…Gizo lagoon…