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05 June, 2009
A bit of Borneo
Jacob’s Ladder_________
The island of Borneo is controlled by three countries: Brunei, Indonesia, and Malaysia. Brunei is a small oil-rich nation, something like Kuwait. Indonesia on the other hand is one of the two largest archipelagoes in S.E. Asia, with the Philippines, and spans all the way from Thailand to Papua New Guinea. When I imagined landing in Borneo, I thought of National Geographic head-hunters, poisoned darts, and sweltering jungle.
Reality is always a touch more complicated than dream. I landing in Malaysia, a wealthier country by far than the Philippines. The infrastructure—water, roads, buildings—is so far superior as to not be a just comparison. At first, I thought perhaps it was a local difference, as Kudat, where I am now anchored, is but one town. But as I have gotten to travel in the last week I have seen that the difference is endemic.
The sweltering heat is still present, but the jungles have been ravaged by logging and many of the forest people of old are now civilized. Malaysia makes up only a small portion of Borneo, most of the west coast, where central and eastern Borneo are Indonesian. It is the central part of the island that is most likely still natural and traditional.
I packed a rucksack with the plan of getting away from Brillig for a few days. Her little anchorage is snug and safe and there is a famous mountain in Borneo called Kinabalu. It is the tallest point between the Himalayas and Irian Jawa. The mountain is 4101 meters (13,434 ft). It is a huge granite dome rising out of the jungle lowlands. It is steep, but short to climb.
I arrived in the late afternoon—no reservations. The lady said that I could have a room, but all climbing permits had been issued. After a bit of talking, she said that if there was a cancellation, I could be first on the waiting list. The park itself is huge, the size roughly of Singapore. I went down to my dorm and laced up my running shoes. The weather was amazingly cool, now at 1500 meters. The air was humid, lots of running water and lush forests. The insect noise was incredible. I had never noticed before just how far behind insects are compared with birds in the arts of melody and rhythm. I have never heard such awful music makers. You could here beginners: a rhythmic beep…beep…beep… . . and then the rhythm would falter, he’d stutter, almost cough and try to keep going. It was almost comic. And then there was another insect that sounded like a lumber mill. Loud, unrhythmic, high-pitched. . . no elegance or style what-so-ever. By the time I finished running there had been a cancellation and I was set to climb in the morning.
Side note: As I washed up that night, the bathroom was full of the most amazing diversity of moths I have ever seen. Out of thirty or more moths pasted on the walls or flying about the lights—not one was similar to the next. It was amazing. They were all beautiful and well colored, large and small, discrete and flamboyant.
In the morning, once the numerous formalities are fulfilled, my guide and myself set off for the mountain summit. I don’t know how long it has been since I climbed a tall mountain, or the last time I really had to feel good, old-fashioned physical pain, but I was beaming with pleasure. I felt like I was flying up the mountain. My steps were small, but I didn’t stop, and we were making good way.
Normally a hike begins at 8 am and ends at Laban Rata, the high mountain hut around 2 – 4 pm. Most people wake early in the morning, say 3:30am to finish the climb in the dark and see the sunrise from the summit. They then descend to Laban Rata, have some breakfast and then head down the mountain. This is what I had planned also, but we made such good time, and the day was exceptionally beautiful—a bit of a rarity on a mountain—that we considered a new plan.
We made Laban Rata by 11:30am. That gave us enough time for a lunch and a break, before pushing on up the mountain in the afternoon. We had time, the weather was perfect, and I felt so damn good to be hiking up a properly steep hill again I was too high to think about stopping.
The climb was like a never-ending staircase, sometimes more like a ladder. The distance is only 12k!! Above Laban Rata though, the shrubs thinned and the granite became the dominant physical feature of the trail. Fixed lines were bolted in place as the path met blank rock faces.
Mind you, this trail is hiked by a Tremendous amount of people, people of all ages and fitness levels. It is strenuous, and I found it so impressive that so many people had the determination to see it through.
By the time I was ascending, most everyone was down to Laban Rata. No sunrise, just clouds. No people. We climbed up and up and not a soul was on the mountain. Imagine a Mt Washington, or a Mt Rainer with no people!! Clouds came and went and the granite spires unveiled to our left and right. I could only think of the Alps or the Sierra Nevadas. The grade was far lessened now, just a great spreading dome of granite. I wanted to run and climb each spire.
I can’t remember the last time my whole body felt so good. Indeed my legs were trembling at this point, but my smile encompassed my entire body. We reached the summit at 2pm. Instead of the cold hikers are warned about (in the morning), we found sun and warmth. I took off my shirt, ate some chocolate and smoked one of Walter’s (my guide’s) cigarette’s. Although we had reached the top, had plenty of time to relax there in the sun, I was already thinking of something else: Salt Peak.
Salt Peak was the most prominent spire that we passed on our way up. Gorgeous is hardly the word. Perfect. I felt the backside of it had a climbable route on it. And I wouldn’t head down until I found out. Walter had been a great guide. It wasn’t normal to pass all the rest huts on the way up, or to climb the peak in the day. He had also let me get off route and do some scrambling on the way to the summit. This all to say that he had grown in his trust of me and my comfort on the mountain. So I felt this would help his “unease” when I set off for Salt Peak instead of down the mountain.
The granite dome was an ideal inclined for a downhill run. So we blistered it out. I had a fair lead on Walter and used it to follow the ridge for Salt Peak. As I stemmed my way up the granite to the summit he wasn’t mad. He even got my camera out of my pack and clicked a couple of pictures (to close to be any good). I made a slow descend after one of the great vistas of my life: nothing but granite stretching across miles. All green jungle beneath.
We sat again and laughed at such a fair day on the mountain, how rare to be here alone. We shouldered our packs and started our jog back down the mountain. We reached Laban Rata in 45 minutes, beat. I sat on the porch, drinking tea profusely, and watched the sunset behind the mountain.
In the morning, everyone left for the summit. I slept in until 7:30, ate some breakfast, and was gearing up to leave as people started trickling down the hill. I was stiff and weak starting out, but with a little prodding from Walter (another race???) we started gaining speed. It was a rock-hopping, stair-running scramble. We even picked up a local photographer and guide as we went. The photographer later left us in the dust. At some point, you just can’t stop. You come so far you simply want to see it through to the end. I was so tired but had to push through to the end. At the end was a short uphill section of stairs. I meekly started to run up it, yelling “race” to Walter, who promptly bounded up the stairs like a gazelle, showing me just how much reserve he really had. We were down in an hour and a half and the first ones off the mountain that day.
Huck and Jim’s Raft__________
10:30am. Say some goodbyes to Walter, walk out of the park and immediately catch a bus heading for Sepilok, the orang-utan sanctuary. In Malasian, orang-utan means “people of the forest” and they are the only native ape to S. E. Asia, living on Borneo and Sumatra. The logging has had effects on the orang-utan population and Sepilok is one of only four rehabilitation centers in the world.
In the end, I skipped the rehabilitation center and got on a boat on the Kinabatangan River. I spent three days and two nights spotlighting owls and crocodiles on the river with other tourists. I met some great people; I was so lucky to have such a group to travel with for several days. (My closest friends I met on the bus from Kinabalu—their’s had broken down—we stayed in a hostel together before heading into the jungle, and one, Alex, traveled to Kota Kinabalu, the major city with me, after the trip.)
On our boat trips we saw proboscis monkeys, maquaks (another sort of monkey), kingfishers, hornbills, fish eagles, monitor lizards, gibbons, crocodiles (small ones), flying foxes (the world’s largest bat), and endless other marvels. No pythons; no elephants, no rhinoceros—which at one point in time was possible to see along the river.
It was a comfortable trip. I could sit around—my legs were weak; stairs were a strain. But I enjoyed the company and the boat rides. The animals were always a bit in the distance, mostly in the trees, so I wasn’t as interested as many others. I saw dark dots mostly.
But the orang-utans were really special. I’ve never seen an ape before. He was huge, cinnamon brown, and those amazing long arms. We caught one high in a tree once and watching him work his way down was something I won’t forget. The advantage to going to Sepilok would have been the proximity: being able to see their faces and expressions. I didn’t get that. But I did see orang-utans in the wild.
I have friends who have taken their boats up the Kinabatangan River. This would be an amazing experience. I am not going to take the time in Malaysia to do such a thing, though this is the sort of adventure I hope to do in the future. I have a friend coming in a few days and I hope to do some interesting trips with her. There are a few good diving islands around the west side of Borneo and Sulawesi. We will stop there on our way to Bali.
Bali however is not a pleasure stop. We will only be granted three days there without a visa—so it is a provision stop before crossing the Indian Ocean to Seychelles, an archipelago north of Madagascar. Since I was back home in the States, it was a long crossing that I most looked forward to, and now it is finally approaching. There are still hurdles; the boat must be ready. But I don’t see anything critical blocking a crossing this season.
Once I’m in East Africa I can slow down again. In the Kinabatangan, I heard the praises of Madagascar sung over and over again. The ecology there is apparently surreal, being separated from the African continent for over 80 million years. So I am getting excited. And, of course, in East Africa, there are two large mountains to climb. My former addiction is rekindled, I hope to never have it quenched again.
The island of Borneo is controlled by three countries: Brunei, Indonesia, and Malaysia. Brunei is a small oil-rich nation, something like Kuwait. Indonesia on the other hand is one of the two largest archipelagoes in S.E. Asia, with the Philippines, and spans all the way from Thailand to Papua New Guinea. When I imagined landing in Borneo, I thought of National Geographic head-hunters, poisoned darts, and sweltering jungle.
Reality is always a touch more complicated than dream. I landing in Malaysia, a wealthier country by far than the Philippines. The infrastructure—water, roads, buildings—is so far superior as to not be a just comparison. At first, I thought perhaps it was a local difference, as Kudat, where I am now anchored, is but one town. But as I have gotten to travel in the last week I have seen that the difference is endemic.
The sweltering heat is still present, but the jungles have been ravaged by logging and many of the forest people of old are now civilized. Malaysia makes up only a small portion of Borneo, most of the west coast, where central and eastern Borneo are Indonesian. It is the central part of the island that is most likely still natural and traditional.
I packed a rucksack with the plan of getting away from Brillig for a few days. Her little anchorage is snug and safe and there is a famous mountain in Borneo called Kinabalu. It is the tallest point between the Himalayas and Irian Jawa. The mountain is 4101 meters (13,434 ft). It is a huge granite dome rising out of the jungle lowlands. It is steep, but short to climb.
I arrived in the late afternoon—no reservations. The lady said that I could have a room, but all climbing permits had been issued. After a bit of talking, she said that if there was a cancellation, I could be first on the waiting list. The park itself is huge, the size roughly of Singapore. I went down to my dorm and laced up my running shoes. The weather was amazingly cool, now at 1500 meters. The air was humid, lots of running water and lush forests. The insect noise was incredible. I had never noticed before just how far behind insects are compared with birds in the arts of melody and rhythm. I have never heard such awful music makers. You could here beginners: a rhythmic beep…beep…beep… . . and then the rhythm would falter, he’d stutter, almost cough and try to keep going. It was almost comic. And then there was another insect that sounded like a lumber mill. Loud, unrhythmic, high-pitched. . . no elegance or style what-so-ever. By the time I finished running there had been a cancellation and I was set to climb in the morning.
Side note: As I washed up that night, the bathroom was full of the most amazing diversity of moths I have ever seen. Out of thirty or more moths pasted on the walls or flying about the lights—not one was similar to the next. It was amazing. They were all beautiful and well colored, large and small, discrete and flamboyant.
In the morning, once the numerous formalities are fulfilled, my guide and myself set off for the mountain summit. I don’t know how long it has been since I climbed a tall mountain, or the last time I really had to feel good, old-fashioned physical pain, but I was beaming with pleasure. I felt like I was flying up the mountain. My steps were small, but I didn’t stop, and we were making good way.
Normally a hike begins at 8 am and ends at Laban Rata, the high mountain hut around 2 – 4 pm. Most people wake early in the morning, say 3:30am to finish the climb in the dark and see the sunrise from the summit. They then descend to Laban Rata, have some breakfast and then head down the mountain. This is what I had planned also, but we made such good time, and the day was exceptionally beautiful—a bit of a rarity on a mountain—that we considered a new plan.
We made Laban Rata by 11:30am. That gave us enough time for a lunch and a break, before pushing on up the mountain in the afternoon. We had time, the weather was perfect, and I felt so damn good to be hiking up a properly steep hill again I was too high to think about stopping.
The climb was like a never-ending staircase, sometimes more like a ladder. The distance is only 12k!! Above Laban Rata though, the shrubs thinned and the granite became the dominant physical feature of the trail. Fixed lines were bolted in place as the path met blank rock faces.
Mind you, this trail is hiked by a Tremendous amount of people, people of all ages and fitness levels. It is strenuous, and I found it so impressive that so many people had the determination to see it through.
By the time I was ascending, most everyone was down to Laban Rata. No sunrise, just clouds. No people. We climbed up and up and not a soul was on the mountain. Imagine a Mt Washington, or a Mt Rainer with no people!! Clouds came and went and the granite spires unveiled to our left and right. I could only think of the Alps or the Sierra Nevadas. The grade was far lessened now, just a great spreading dome of granite. I wanted to run and climb each spire.
I can’t remember the last time my whole body felt so good. Indeed my legs were trembling at this point, but my smile encompassed my entire body. We reached the summit at 2pm. Instead of the cold hikers are warned about (in the morning), we found sun and warmth. I took off my shirt, ate some chocolate and smoked one of Walter’s (my guide’s) cigarette’s. Although we had reached the top, had plenty of time to relax there in the sun, I was already thinking of something else: Salt Peak.
Salt Peak was the most prominent spire that we passed on our way up. Gorgeous is hardly the word. Perfect. I felt the backside of it had a climbable route on it. And I wouldn’t head down until I found out. Walter had been a great guide. It wasn’t normal to pass all the rest huts on the way up, or to climb the peak in the day. He had also let me get off route and do some scrambling on the way to the summit. This all to say that he had grown in his trust of me and my comfort on the mountain. So I felt this would help his “unease” when I set off for Salt Peak instead of down the mountain.
The granite dome was an ideal inclined for a downhill run. So we blistered it out. I had a fair lead on Walter and used it to follow the ridge for Salt Peak. As I stemmed my way up the granite to the summit he wasn’t mad. He even got my camera out of my pack and clicked a couple of pictures (to close to be any good). I made a slow descend after one of the great vistas of my life: nothing but granite stretching across miles. All green jungle beneath.
We sat again and laughed at such a fair day on the mountain, how rare to be here alone. We shouldered our packs and started our jog back down the mountain. We reached Laban Rata in 45 minutes, beat. I sat on the porch, drinking tea profusely, and watched the sunset behind the mountain.
In the morning, everyone left for the summit. I slept in until 7:30, ate some breakfast, and was gearing up to leave as people started trickling down the hill. I was stiff and weak starting out, but with a little prodding from Walter (another race???) we started gaining speed. It was a rock-hopping, stair-running scramble. We even picked up a local photographer and guide as we went. The photographer later left us in the dust. At some point, you just can’t stop. You come so far you simply want to see it through to the end. I was so tired but had to push through to the end. At the end was a short uphill section of stairs. I meekly started to run up it, yelling “race” to Walter, who promptly bounded up the stairs like a gazelle, showing me just how much reserve he really had. We were down in an hour and a half and the first ones off the mountain that day.
Huck and Jim’s Raft__________
10:30am. Say some goodbyes to Walter, walk out of the park and immediately catch a bus heading for Sepilok, the orang-utan sanctuary. In Malasian, orang-utan means “people of the forest” and they are the only native ape to S. E. Asia, living on Borneo and Sumatra. The logging has had effects on the orang-utan population and Sepilok is one of only four rehabilitation centers in the world.
In the end, I skipped the rehabilitation center and got on a boat on the Kinabatangan River. I spent three days and two nights spotlighting owls and crocodiles on the river with other tourists. I met some great people; I was so lucky to have such a group to travel with for several days. (My closest friends I met on the bus from Kinabalu—their’s had broken down—we stayed in a hostel together before heading into the jungle, and one, Alex, traveled to Kota Kinabalu, the major city with me, after the trip.)
On our boat trips we saw proboscis monkeys, maquaks (another sort of monkey), kingfishers, hornbills, fish eagles, monitor lizards, gibbons, crocodiles (small ones), flying foxes (the world’s largest bat), and endless other marvels. No pythons; no elephants, no rhinoceros—which at one point in time was possible to see along the river.
It was a comfortable trip. I could sit around—my legs were weak; stairs were a strain. But I enjoyed the company and the boat rides. The animals were always a bit in the distance, mostly in the trees, so I wasn’t as interested as many others. I saw dark dots mostly.
But the orang-utans were really special. I’ve never seen an ape before. He was huge, cinnamon brown, and those amazing long arms. We caught one high in a tree once and watching him work his way down was something I won’t forget. The advantage to going to Sepilok would have been the proximity: being able to see their faces and expressions. I didn’t get that. But I did see orang-utans in the wild.
I have friends who have taken their boats up the Kinabatangan River. This would be an amazing experience. I am not going to take the time in Malaysia to do such a thing, though this is the sort of adventure I hope to do in the future. I have a friend coming in a few days and I hope to do some interesting trips with her. There are a few good diving islands around the west side of Borneo and Sulawesi. We will stop there on our way to Bali.
Bali however is not a pleasure stop. We will only be granted three days there without a visa—so it is a provision stop before crossing the Indian Ocean to Seychelles, an archipelago north of Madagascar. Since I was back home in the States, it was a long crossing that I most looked forward to, and now it is finally approaching. There are still hurdles; the boat must be ready. But I don’t see anything critical blocking a crossing this season.
Once I’m in East Africa I can slow down again. In the Kinabatangan, I heard the praises of Madagascar sung over and over again. The ecology there is apparently surreal, being separated from the African continent for over 80 million years. So I am getting excited. And, of course, in East Africa, there are two large mountains to climb. My former addiction is rekindled, I hope to never have it quenched again.
28 May, 2009
mental ramblings
I haven't really been writing about anything of gravity. I can't say I've really started sailing again in earnest. Yes, I left the Philippines, and a few amazing things happened along the way. Cruising the Camote Islands with Annabelle was a spectacular experience I'll cherish forever. Great people, great walks, great food, and beautiful water.
But there has been a lot of hardship along the way. It was really a shame that Annabelle and I couldn't get along. We shared so many dreams but couldn't seem to get through a day without frustrating each other. The stress was hard.
It was only a few months ago that I bought Brillig. That isn't much time to acclimate to a new vessel and bring it up to your own specifications. It is still an ongoing process that I am making headway, but I would love to be at a stasis point where I could wean off the work a bit. Everyday work undone drapes over my mind like a dark pawl.
I love Brillig like I could never have loved Araby. She is so much more boat than Araby was, and I am so excited to have her. Such good fortune. I am amazed by what I have seen in some of the sailors around me. I realize just how much I have been missing by not having an engine and by sailing solo. I don't regret it. But there is so much more. This Swiss couple goes everywhere, up rivers, into al sorts of uncharted waters. This go slow; they pay attention. They don't have problems greater than their skill to solve.
There is another boat in Kudat now named Ventana and it is crewed by two women. These two ladies dive in some of the craziest places, and have incredible guts. They just came in from Tuba Taha, which, according to the younger, was one of the top two dive spots she's ever seen. High praise. But also it is an isolated reef in the middle of the Sulu Sea. No protection. You are totally vulnerable to whatever weather comes your way. Guts.
This is where I must go as a sailor. I have dreams, and perhaps I have been moving toward them. But I feel I have been moving slowly. Annabelle helped bring to light just how much I don't know. My experience is so narrow. I've taken risks sure, but the nature of sailing alone limits the sort of risks you can take. I am ready for a different direction in my sailing.
On the 8th of June my friend Amy Jaye comes to sail with me. Our plan is to sail down the east coast of Borneo and across to Sulawesi, an Indonesian island. We'll cruise a bit of this island before heading farther south, perhaps to Bali, where we will provision properly for the Indian crossing. I am not planning on stopping in Chagos or Cocos, but make landfall in the Seychelles, north of Madagascar. Then I hope to finally be ready to slow done and do some good exploring. I want to see Zanzibar, Madagascar, Kenya. I don't know how long it will take, but I hope to actually spend some time in an area and learn something of it.
Amy Jaye is from South Africa and is keen to sail home. So I presume we will. But the point of the crossing for me, is to work down to the westerlies that blow in the southern latitudes. I'm going to use them to sail back across the Indian Ocean to Tasmania, and then back to New Zealand. This is the plan. And has been the plan, I've just had to tweak the route a bit.
I'm feeling good. I'm glad to be alone for a bit. It has been a strange few months. Tomorrow I catch a bus to Kota Kinabalu to make my way to the big mountain. Mt Kinabalu is a 12,000 ft mountain, the biggest mountatin between the Himalayas and Irian Java. It is large in that it does rise pretty much straight out of the water, like Mt Fuji. So hopefully I can get up it. Supposedly it is booked up, quite the tourist attraction. I'm just gonna show up and see what happens. I got my engine running sweetly today; it is high time I saw some of Malaysia, because Kudat is not it.
I am in a bloody resort. I don't pay for it, but my anchorage is surrounded by a golf course. I have access to a pool, bar, restaurant, wireless. . . . and there is hardly a soul around. Disneyland. This is Borneo. I want to see jungle. Although, when I'm eating lunch, monkeys do come out and play from time to time. I didn't see much of the Philippines. No more. I will see some of Malaysia before my ears itch for wind.
I can't believe a year has passed since, Bird Fest, since the Old Man passed, since we sold the house, since the Mauldins took me in. And now Happy is saying her goodbyes as my dad did. I'm sure she will share his fortune in the coming months.
I am excited. I have a lot to be excited for. Though my mind is not clear. I'm missing my motivation, my determination. I'm fat. I'm living a comfortable life. I am comfortable and well fed. I want to be cold and hungry and driven. Is there anything more glorious than being truly driven toward some goal, some destiny that devours all other thoughts, daunts all other dreams, and becomes the unifying purpose in all action.
Have you ever seen Million Dollar Baby?
That is what this movie is all about. She was driven with purpose. She was simple in her needs from life. I hold her as a goddess. If I had half the drive that woman had I would be a satisfied man. . . in the end. And I would be damned exhausted until I got there.
The happiness I truly want is the satisfaction of accomplishing goals. Today I experience the satisfaction of cheap delicious food. This is not me. I am not old and dusty yet. Leave some of the carnal pleasures for later. Give me driving sleet and Southern Gale.
Have you ever read Nietzsche? . . . "I want hobgoblins around me, for I am courageous." Remember, "live dangerously. . . build your house on the slopes of Vesuvious. .. ' ect. Why I find the greatest satisfaction in this sort of life I can't explain, but it is true. I have lived a hedonist's life, I am currently. And there is little satisfaction in it. Yet, when I push through suffering to some end, some goal, some purpose. . . when I am driven, then I find true happiness.
A beautiful movie, called The Fastest Indian, a Kiwi builds a super fast little motorcycle and dreams of running it on the salt flats of Utah to see just how fast she could go. He said, "you live more in five minutes on a bike like that than most people live in a lifetime." I think this is the truth. A dream, fearing failure, pushing through fear, and accomplishment. This is the real flesh of life; this is what the beating heart and blood are for. This is real life. Risk and reward. I may say that it is bolder than the mystic's path. The mystic gives his life up to peaceful contemplation. But the risk he takes doesn't compare to that man who risks the ultimate catastrophe of failing at his dreams. This is the greatest risk in life.
I will say though, it is an allusion.
The drive of pursuing a dream, we imagine that it is the attainment of the goal that matters. This is false. It is the path that is actually the most valuable part. We don't reflect on the beauty of waking up day after day, and each day knowing what your purpose for that day it, and looking forward to it. The passion of day to day life spent in the pursuit of a dream is greater than the dream itself. Well, whose to say. I don't know that. But I know it isn't a life wasted. It was a life lived with passion—and that is much to be grateful for.
I have digressed. I am very near having my passion back. A great passage is on the edge of reality. How great. Another ocean. How will the experience change with crew. Crossing the Pacific was on of those rare experiences I wouldn't trade for my fingers. Now for something new.
What about Africa? I know so little of the place now. I've been so immured in the S. Pacific for so long now. Something new. And this time I will study. This time I will be a bit more patient. (If I like what I find.) I will do the best I can.
27 May, 2009
The Electric Company
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S87uLjktf0
Watch me old highschool buddies ROCK. They hadn't played together in fifteen years!! This was a sort of one-night reunion show. Matt Bowers is a Rock Idol!! I bet this was fun. Sorry I missed it. Hey Matt, did you play anything off Gish??
Watch me old highschool buddies ROCK. They hadn't played together in fifteen years!! This was a sort of one-night reunion show. Matt Bowers is a Rock Idol!! I bet this was fun. Sorry I missed it. Hey Matt, did you play anything off Gish??
24 May, 2009
Brillig in the pool
The Lunchtime diner. It's actually a golf club (haha) that has cheap food near the anchorage. The Pool, as we call the anchorage, is about a mile walk from town. It has a good market and even cheaper food, but if you are working on the boat and the afternoon heat starts to wear youu down, it is easy to row ashore, walk through the hotel, cross the street, and then get served a plate of garlic chicken by a waitress named Marry-Me (spelled phonetically). I have my plate served with Xtra chicken for a whopping $2.
Brillig under awnings. It is very hot here. I am trying to get her awning sorted, but none seem to fit as they should, and none of them are really what I need: water cachement. So I need to tweak some things. But there she is if you haven't seen her, though she is sort of hiding.
This is the Pool at a distance. You can see the golf course behind the boats. Brillig is second on the left. I enjoy going ashore and running the golf course in the late evenings when it cools off. There was a Hash House Run today, and I was very excited about it, and then I didn't get to go after all. Very disappointing. Hopefully next week.
19 May, 2009
My heart and thoughts are with Happy, and only with Happy. May the following months be peaceful, spent with family, and may there be many smiles always around you. I love you, and am with you in spirit, and have been for a long time.
Note: [Happy is the grandmother of the Mauldin Family and is someone I have admired since I met her. She is well into her nineties and has always been incredibly strong and happy and independent. She has recently started slowing down, and now has been diagnosed with Leukemia.]
16 May, 2009
quick note
I'm enjoying Kudat. Making some plans and some rather serious changes. I'll write about them in the coming days or week. This is a far different place from the Philippines, and I am determined to do a better job of exploring it and experiencing the best of what it offers.
Brillig may stay put where she is for a bit. A very snug place. Check it out on google maps / earth, whatever, at the top o this page. It's a cool little spot.
14 May, 2009
Entering Malaysia
Hilarious trip down from Palawan. Blown 50 the WRONG WAY right out of the gate. We eventally got some favorible winds and did some great sailing in flat conditions. Some great days really. . . Brillig is immensly comfortable compared with Araby. Annabelle baked bread and we had canned butter. Umm... We ate nicely, played lots of guitar, watched the stars. Good stuff mostly, but a nice mix of all sorts of weather. Glad to be out of the Philippines for the first time in over a year.
Malaysia is strange and wonderful, very different it seems from the Philippines. Very first world here, beer is very expensive. This is really all I know, except the customs and immagration was the easiest I've ever experienced. Just getting started to get things figured out here. Hope you are all well.
04 May, 2009
Puerto Princesa
Still in Puerto Princesa. Waiting for some weather to pass and minding other matters. Very ready to set out for Kudat, Malaysia, though. They day is almost here, today, tomorrow, at the latest the day after. It is a short run, but with plenty of coral in the way to keep me occupied.
Nice big harbor in Kudat. Don't know what happens from there actually. But I will be glad to be away from the Philippines for the first time in over a year. Really, I just want to be sailing. Period. Ge more kinks worked out of Brillig. . . .who is doing very well I should say. I've never been more comfortable sailing. Slow, but comfortable.
Nice big harbor in Kudat. Don't know what happens from there actually. But I will be glad to be away from the Philippines for the first time in over a year. Really, I just want to be sailing. Period. Ge more kinks worked out of Brillig. . . .who is doing very well I should say. I've never been more comfortable sailing. Slow, but comfortable.
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