Since I had to get an oil change, in advance of my mini-trip this coming weekend, I met with Dr. DC for lunch at our favourite wing joint. Dr. DC had just returned from the wilds of Northern Ontario where he once again attempted to reach Copper Island on the north shore of Lake Superior. For those of you who wish to recall last years efforts, I include the link for his 2006 failed attempt.
At this point I turn over the keyboard to Dr. DC.
Older Man and The Sea...Waxing Philosophical....An Odyssey!
Sing O' Superior...many a brave soul have ye sent hurrying down to Hades.
As the early dawn touched the sea with a golden light, a ship came gliding out of the mist, and sped her way o'er the broad-backed billows. No sail or mast had she; but the dipping of the paddle came floating on the still air of morning with a rhythmic cadence. Swift as a bird on the wing, she lightly cleft the curling waves in search of the reclusive Isle. The ship drove fast, and southward she fled.
Hearing a magic strain upon the water, the good craft drew near the Isle of Cats wherein the Sirens dwell.
Having spied me, the Sirens began to sing in sweet voices their bewitching song; nubile wenches tempting the ship to its ruin.
"I recognize thee for what thou art! Temptresses! Changelings! I was once married to one as you! Away with ye!", cried the seaman. In an instant the seductive Norse twins transformed into birds and flew away.
Onward and forward the craft glided until contrary winds thrashed the sea and stirred the fiend of doubt in the very heart of the ancient kayaker. "How badly do you want this? How badly?...", moaned the wind. Wave on wave washed o'er the deck and lashed the face of the mortal. Neptune drove the vessel back from whence it had come.
"I will not dine on regrets! 'Tis better to lose life as a spendthrift than waste it as a miser! 'Tis better to wear out than to rust out! 'Tis better to live and be done with it, than die daily in the grasp of the demon Microsoft! " screamed the mariner.
On high, the immortals, well pleased with these words, cried "Cease, rude Boreas! Else, pray, rein the tongue within his lips!". As commanded, the winds eased, and the bark flew swiftly onward, on even keel with gentle gale. Waves tossed up their silvery spray, while rocked in the cradle of the deep lay many a ship that never returned to port.
The day was well nigh done when the craft glided into safe harbour on the Isle of Copper. Sands dark as Chaos greeted the belly of the vessel. The man raised his eyes to Heaven and said, "What a day has dawned upon me, ye gods; yea a glad man am I today"
With throat parched, and hunger gnawing like maggots in a week-old carcass, the Jack o'Tar set camp and prepared a mess of most savoury victuals (Note: Dr. DC only eats Pringles Original Potato Chips during harrowing happenstances and recommends (contingent on a multi-billion dollar sponsorship) that all young Argonauts eat Pringles Original Potato Chips).
This Isle was from another time; a time when demons walked the earth and molten rock belched forth from the maw of Pele.
Night brought on a deep, dreamless, peaceful sleep. At length, the glorious sun was reborn to the howl of a storm-blast.
The sea heaved, impending tempests charged the sky and the gentle craft sought safer haven.
Through the Swede's Gap passed the ship. Southward, ever southward. Soon the mariner espied a coast strewn with pulp log and boulder; a mix of black and white, forbidding and tantalizing all at once. Forward the ship glided to the shore until the very rock split asunder to allow safe anchorage.
But, of a sudden, the keel suffered damage.....possibly a portent of more sinister torments to come. As if an affirmation of the thought, a shroud of fog suddenly perched upon the water and rolled malevolently towards the mastless craft.
Setting camp above high-water, the mariner harked back to the trials of yesterday and the doubts that he had suffered. That anything evil could ever befall the man now was absurd. "Vex me no longer ye demons of the nether world!"
The next two days were spent in blissful exploration of the coast; of agate, metal and pleasing stone the land abounded.
These happy moments flew like a bird upon the wind. All too soon, the glorious sun arose, a fair breeze blew and the white foam danced the good ship home.
The faint old man bows his silvered head. A dream realized and a fear overcome. The deed is everything, the glory naught.
1 comment:
Bravo Dr. DC ... Bravo
LED
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