Saturday, April 18, 2009

images from the crossing

leaving Cabo

Tavish and the yellowfin tuna

swimming to the Marquesas

Farlyn at the wheel


Bottle-nosed dolpins

flying fish


materfamilias said...

Lovely to see images here again (altho' your words created some pretty convincing images of your crossing).

Anonymous said...

PIRT is envious.Our little adventure is sooooo small compared to yours. We are braving the dark clouds and venturing south to bike the treacherous Cowichan railway trail. We may have to fight off cougars and bears but should we survive to return to the parking lot (assuming we can find it again), we may just raise a toast to you and Kim at Zanatta Winery.

Anonymous said...

Trudy and I are figuring out how to post a comment. We love your pictures. They remind us of the sun.Sigh.
Dear Alison,
When the trilliums bloom, I know it is time for your birthday! Warming now, and the urge to dig and plant sets in. Is this a circadian urge and do you feel it on the Marquesas?
Beautiful here and the PIRT team is hopefully setting off in a 60% chance of rain to recreate your birthday cycle of 3 years ago(I think as memory fails). Getting ready to go and packing lunch as Zanatta is not open for lunch until May 1st. It is beautiful here with the lilies and trillium. Scent of cottonwoods in the air and birdsong everywhere. Congratulations on the crossing to all! What an amazing accomplishment. The Marquesas sound lovely and oh so different from Baja. Here is a poem for your birthday. It made me think of you. Probably you know it:

April Rise by Laurie Lee
If ever I saw blessing in the air
I see it now in this still early day
Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips
Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye.

Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round
Weeds of warm light whose every root and rod
Splutters with soapy green, and all the world
Sweats with the bead of summer in its bud.

If ever I heard blessing it is there
Where birds in trees that shoals and shadows are
Splash with their hidden wings and drops of sound
Break on my ears their crests of throbbing air.

Pure in the haze the emerald sun dilates,
The lips of sparrows milk the mossy stones,
While white as water by the lake a girl
Swims her green hand among the gathered swans.

Now, as the almond burns its smoking wick,
Dropping small flames to light the candled grass;
Now, as my low blood scales its second chance,
If ever world were blessed, now it is.
A big hug,
Love Trudy

Alison Watt said...

like your new look! Hope you are surviving the end of term. The warm weather must be such a relief. Haven't been able to check in to your blog much--not much internet time, but appreciate that you've been stopping in...xo

sorry to miss the fabulous bike trip! thanks for helping T. get this up (it's such a beautiful poem) and thanks for the PIRT updates.