The Young Man and the Sea
An online account of the life and adventures of Me, Georg. (I am about to head out to the great wild State of Alaska as a Marine fisheries Observer. For that reason, and the fact that my ability to communicate with people from way out on the Aleutian Islands or the middle of the Bering Sea will be limited, I have created this page to post updates and pictures of cool stuff. Please sit back, enjoy, & drop me a line when you have the time.) I am back now.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Two of my favorite people
On Sunday I was in sunny Santa Barbara to witness and partake in the glorious wedding of two of my favorite people... just my luck that in attendance were pretty much the rest of my favorite people too, the couple was beautiful and the party never stoped from the moment I got off the plane on Friday Morning to the final day on the sea off the SB coast just before I boarded the plane again. there was dancing, and music, and singing, and swimming, and football and shotguns, and toasts, cheers, prayers, tears and bruises and hugs, barefeet, and beautiful amazing talented and driven people I love and admire... It was fantastic.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
A Man and His Horse...
Many sayings pop up now and again that seem to have lost relevance to our time. One of the most poignant to me now is the old adage, “A man is only as good as his horse.” Now lets ruminate on that for just a moment... When was the last time that you saw a horse in person let alone rid one? A pony? a Merry-go-Round? With some obvious exceptions to our more rural pals, one would be hard pressed today to find a man, woman, or child whose body, let alone the attached character, came within a mile of the equestrian realm.
It thus seems to me that this old measuring stick of worth and ability just doesn’t quite cut it anymore. To put it less elegantly, "There ain’t no wild mares or bronco bustin’ cowboys left in theze parts.” Would you like a more tangible example? Well fine then, When was the last time that you had a mustang riding rancher sit his chapped behind next to you at the saloon, and drawl out his order for a sasparilla? It is time to revamp that old cliché. So, with that in mind, lets talk about cars!
I just got a new vehicle, a 2000 Kia Sephia, a model which is now no longer produced having been merged with the Spectra in 2002. I am not gonna kid anyone and try to pass it off like my car is the greatest one in the world. However, don’t let anyone fool you either, my little Filly has four wheels just like anyone elses and it can run. "That ‘aint bad." I don’t care what kind of cowboy you were then or are now, your horse meant the world to you and I am not any different. Freedom spelled with imported Korean lettering and coming in the four wheeled and running variety sounds just as sweet as freedom in any other scrit. And then there is the added bonus; my ride probably doesn’t need as much hay as everyone else's! My new Kia is a very special car to me in so far as it is mine. I own it, I paid for it fully, I cover the insurance, it consumes my gas, oil, and dollars; I wash it, rub it down, talk to it, pet it, and love it, so quite rightfully I am proud. (though if you want to send me gas cards I certainly won’t object.) It is my noble steed and together we are free!
Funny enough, but my new car is so much an expression of my independence and freedom that I have begun moving my thing out of the house and into it instead. I have found myself gathering the junk I have scattered throughout the house in storage and boxes and sequestering it in my vehicle; my bastion of freedom and independence. If it makes it into my trunk, it is suddenly irrevocably mine. I am stowing away slowly and surely the precious keepsakes of my life. I recently hunted down an old college blanket which I have been coveting from my parents. It was bought a year ago at my graduation and I had had my eye on it all through my collegiate years. I used to visit its likeness in the bookstore and longingly drool at it, wondering and hoping it would one day be mine. Since my parents bought it and promised it to me after my very cold graduation day it has been lingering and malingering in the back of my mind pulling my thoughts every so often back to it in order to pay it homage. I can proudly say that it is now gracing the backseat of my four-door oasis. It may clash but its colors speak to me of harmony rather than the public's translation of classy yet more unnecessary clutter to the back of yet another automobile. I hunted it down and lovingly united it with the rest of my spoils. The Alumni stickers are without question on the way. I am hoarding; surreptitiously moving out of the house and into my car. A strange phenomena, but hey, its what I got. Suffice it to say, I love me car, it is wonderful and promising and freeing and belonging to me. I know and back my horse, cause damnit, its mine!
Thursday, June 01, 2006
I have many stories to tell about my time up in Alaska. For now though I am safely at home and the events are wrapped in sheeves of notes, journals, pictures, letters, and memory. The sky was huge in Alaska, when you could see it. The sea was endless and the waves broke upon one another into the blurred horizon. At night when you could sea the sky, it seemed to have you pinned beneath it. The cold air, the pressure of the rising hull beneath your feet. I lived some full moments on the Bering Sea. Sweat, blood, tears, ice, salt, crab and round the clock vigilance. It was a blessing, a piece of something more.... One's heart beats harder and one may feel more alive when peering over the precipice into danger, it is anxious, often scary, but also quite exhilerating.... and and here I blabber safe and sound at home, Not to worry Sis, I will work it out, I will make more sense of my time up there that is worth sharing. It was only two seasons, 6 months of life on a crab boat but what an adventure it was. I'll keep writing.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
A River Runs Through it was written by Norman Maclean about his childhood and relationship to his brother growing up on the Blackfoot River in Montana. A much less seen and heard story is his collection of tales from his days as a logger in the Rugged Montana Mountains... In particular, an essay titled "On Logging and Pimping" which was written for a guest lecture and set a record for attendance simply because of its title, the normal agenda being scientific endeavors and research. From what I understand the crowd was quite pleased. It is in the spirit of that shared moment long ago that I seek to continue to avail you all to my own travels and experiences, For now there is little in the way of "pimping" but It is my hope that you are similarly pleased:
I arrived in King Cove to freezing rain and wind, stepping out of the co-pilots seat after a short and bumpy 20 minute hop from Cold Bay. There were about 6 of us in the plane, and due to space limitations I was jammed into the front seat next to the pilot, a quick warning to keep my knees out of the way of the controls and a few cold bruises as I met the metal edges of the front control panels with my shins and feet and that was all there was to it... We landed on a Gravel runway and taxied to a set of waiting cars and a shack, you could see the tracks of the planes that came before set clearly in the rutted gravel below. Welcome to the King Cove airport. Our luggage arrived about 30 minutes later in a second plane, this one with no seats, and jammed tightly with our duffelbags and luggage cases... except of course for my luggage which as I would find out later had been sent from Anchorage to St. Paul, 200 miles in the middle of the bering sea, it wouldn't catch up to me for another two weeks. I hopped in a local car sent by the cannery and it was off to find my boat and meet my crew, the people with whom I would be living for the next 5 weeks. ...
Monday, November 21, 2005
A verbal ellipsis...
It is the strangest thing being connected to the outside world once again. I have been away from computers so long, which has been a blessing in many ways, that the medium has lost its appeal. I feel more comfortable now with a pen, with graphite and ink rather than pixelated words; Expressions that cannot be deleted at the touch of a button. And that is only after a month, geeze. I have so many reflections and letters written in my journal or left unfinished in my head at sea, yet now that I can finally send them off or write them here it is a like I have fizzled out. To sum things up, I have ridden a giant wave of experience and inspiration and as it ends I am left suddenly in a calm, spent, at ease, and ready to rest a bit before the next wave comes. I can feel it building, but for now my thoughts and concerns are elsewhere and I cannot turn them to the page. I recall what I thought while at sea, just as I recall other vivid experiences, relationships, encounters, adventures, from throughout my life, somehow all waiting to be told again. but for now the inspiration is on hold and I worry simply about getting home and seeing family and friends once again. Distilled further, I cannot wait to eat some pie, fall asleep in a real bed that doesn't buck on the swell and have conversations that don't involve 3 kinds of profanity. (though 1 or 2 is still acceptable though)Love you all.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Just a quick note. I am once again in my favorite haunt, the Anchorage Airport. This time I am on my way back out to Dutch Harbor. My hope is that I can get there and get back in time to fly East for my cousins wedding and a great Thanksgiving dinner. The last month has been great, and I now proudly sport the crustiest beard I could muster in a month without a blade. I am so proud of it, I cannot wait to be ridiculed by my family with lots of pictures. Honestly I need to shave bad, I look like a bleached and ratty wool hat found a new home under my chin... Pretty cool huh? Anyway, my flight is boarding soon, so I just wanted to leave some sign that I was still alive. The retro-blog with updates I wrote at sea, is on its way soon.
God Bless, thank you for your thoughts and prayers.