Tag: Poetry

Sailing Ships upon the Sea

1988 Hobart to Sydney Tall Ship Race

There is a certain romanticism of billowing sails carrying great ships across the sea

Distant shores unexplored

Harnessing the power of the wind

The power to cross vast oceans

The clouds of billowing sails

Masts reaching for the sky.

Ships from all parts of the world

Oman and the exotic east

The new world of the Americas

The old continents of Europe and Africa

These sailing giants covered the globe

As a young man I read and read Joseph Conrad and dreamt of the sea

My mind full of imaginary adventures in distant and exotic ports

The exotic ports of the trade winds in Lord Jim

The loneliness of being at sea and the weight of command in The Secret Sharer

The power of the weather and the sea in Typhoon

To be amongst the tall ships and the sailing tales of the crew

To sail away

Tech Note

These images were captured during the 1988 Hobart to Sydney Tall Ship Race on colour transparencies. I have rephotographed these with my digital camera using an Emora slide copier extension tube attached to the my camera lens.

Travelling in the time of Coronavirus 8 – Home in Australia

Egret hunting in Koroit Creek

Free as a bird

After 14 days locked in the Gilded Cage of enforced quarantine

It was such a relief to be out in the fresh air and sunshine

On my bicycle

On my favourite loop around the bay

Pelicans fishing and looking across Hobsons Bay

And then time to get the Mighty Breva on the Road

On the Great Ocean Road

With a mate

Over the last 10 or so years I have avoided the Great Ocean Road as a ride

The road has become blocked with tourists coaches heading for the main attractions along the road

So I had missed the grand vistas looking along the cliffs and across the ocean

The bike in the rhythm of the winding road as it winds along the cliff face, and through the forests

But this day the roads were empty, the sun shone upon me and the joy of riding this magnificent piece of road was one again enjoyed unhindered.

 

Travelling in the time of Coronavirus 6- Tides and Time

Low tide and high tide Rye Harbour

As humanity sits in lockdown

Seemingly hibernating

Time standing still the world and tides rise and fall

River entrance low and high tide

And for many life goes on almost unabated

The fisherman returning of the flood tide after another night alone on the Celtic Sea

The flood tide filling the river and spreading out over the salt marsh

For the fisherman every night is social distance

Alone with on the end less waves, the sky and sea birds for companionship

The tides of time go on ebbing and flowing like the water round the old wreck

Ebbing and flowing in time less motion

Last night over the Celtic Sea the Easter Pink Supermoon rose

In a sort of bright isolated orb in the darkness

Casting it’s beam like a stream of rose gold

Like it has for millenea.

Rye Harbour pier low and high tide

And the tides keep turning

Travelling in the Time of Coronavirus-Quarantined week 2

The Mighty Breva remain under the cover, apart from the occaisional shopping trip.

Week 2 of quarantine and its a time of discoveries and little pleasures.

It’s a time self contemplation.

A discovery:

A beautiful beer with a quirky connection.

To quote: This premium strength beer from Rother Valley Brewing Company commemorates the notorious gang of smugglers know as The Blues, who defied the Revenue through out Kent and Sussex for over 50years until their capture and transportation to Australia.

My great grandfather was a rustler not a smuggler and was transported to Australia during the Irish famine.

It’s seems an appropriate drink to have with a healthy home cooked meal

The little pleasures:

The small hardy plants of the salt marsh slowly bursting into life and the days ever so slowly grow longer and warmer.

A bit of self discovery:

Quarantine is a little bit like the kestral hovering, seemingly suspended in space and time. But there is a focus and a purpose.

Travelling in the time of Coronavirus

Lone tourist with mask on Lambath Bridge

London was surprisingly quiet as I wended my way to the Tate

Few tourists about

A lone fellow with a face mask taking pics of Parliament House

Even Borough Market had lost its hustle and bustle

It was an easy saunter past Lambath Palace

Past the war museum

Past typical London Street Art

And the Houses of Parliament to the Tate

And an Aubrey Beardsley exhibition

But that was a couple of days ago

And as the WHO declares a Coronavirus pandemic

I’m on the ferry from Portsmouth to Bilboa