Reading Greenland style blogs do pay. Somewhere out there there must be hidden an hypnotic trigger phrase that prompts me into noteworthy success in new rolls as if by default. I am naturally modest, so I am keeping it under my hat.
With the help of some wee surf, last Sunday I managed to accomplish the angel roll. Three times. One after another.
Carme Adell, the early herald of Bcu training in this afflicted country phoned me yesterday, and told me about Ermengol, an Argentinian expatriate living in her home town where he draws the cartoon strips in the local newspaper, and builds sculptures out of slalom kayaks.
Saint Ignatius. Name day. Dear Obama! Off to celebrate it with three paddling days.
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Cailean Macleod sent me this report issued on July 22nd, by the Press Office of The Maritime & Coastguard Agency. Here there is a delightful excerpt:
Missing Canoeist turns up wrestling at Highland Games.
From midday today Clyde Coastguard have been coordinating the search and rescue of a man after his single seat red slalom canoe was located 100 yards offshore near a fish farm at Cairndow on Loch Fyne near Inveraray. The paddles were nearby.
The first public spirited informant reported innocently to have seen the missing man paddling from one side of the Loch to the other and seemingly attempting to return. After that, when he looked again some time later, the man had disappeared.
A mayday signal was immediately broadcasted into the area alerting other vessels users to anyone in the water. Various vessels responded and began to proceed towards the area. Members of various Coastguard Rescue Teams were immediately sent to the area and the local Rnli inshore lifeboat was also asked to launch. Rescue 177 from Prestwick was also scrambled, and the search concentrated on the area between Dunderave Point and the north end of the Loch.
By 2.10 this afternoon, working on information gleaned locally, the police tracked the missing man who was due to be involved in a scheduled wrestling match at the Highland Games in Inveraray, and he was politely reunited with his canoe by the Coastguard.
Calum Murray, the watch manager of Clyde Coastguard commented that it would appear that the man who is not local - neither a total stranger, one would say - had been tipped out of his canoe whilst some way from the shore and had swum back to shore leaving his canoe and paddles drifting in the middle of the Loch which seems to us a little odd. He had then gone to the Highland Games in Inveraray to take part in a wrestling match.
Life in the Highlands.
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After the shipping law examinations, the port authority held a pleasant graduation banquet. Strangely, my suggestion to drink ourselves blind and then sneak with energetic vulgarity into the harbour hoodlums for some heavy whoring was met with expressions of censure. This seemed a complete non sequitur to me. Evidently, I am the only graduate who is a sailor at heart, and I am certain that shipowners will duly appreciate it in time.
The line is breached. As a result of growing purchases in the last year, the Valley dealer will graciously lend to the kayak club three kayaks to be used for demonstrations and probably, sold later at a discount.Shut off for days to prepare my Admiralty Law examinations with an overflowing supply of assorted bills of lading: Suddenly, inspiring and jolly news. Much to my delight, and in perfect synchronicity with my new hand roll, Bond in dinner jacket is kicking and stabbing back, amidst plenty of detonating explosives.
Filmed as a sequel to Casino Royale, the plot swirls around a cruelly malicious environmentalist who schemes to stage a coup d’état in Bolivia to take control of its water supply. Inevitably, he is reduced to nonexistence with cold superiority. Good. I hope that the film finally breaks the reputation of such environmentalists.
Adding to the character, Craig suffered a gash to his face, which required eight stitches while filming in Pinewood.
One of the many advantages of sailing in Norway in The Polar Front, has been to enjoy the pleasure of the company of extraordinary people with humour and multiple talents.
Recently back from the Arctic Circle. Norway is so full of kind platinum blondes that only the legal implications stopped me from pawing to and fro as soon as I landed in Oslo.Sorry for not having updated lately. I was busy watching indie pop from Barcelona on YouTube.
This Milkyway, seems rather much my alter ego. Great, easy pop for cosmic parties. The lyrics mocking promiscuity, are intelligible. Watch him. From minute 1’ on, the man dances.
On next August, Milkyway will perform on stage at the Fib Music Festival in Benicasim, some bare five miles far from home.
First, the good news. The visit card devise worked well. I have a string of polite messages from unlikely strangers who after jumping into Marcus Demuth in the isolated coasts of Iceland, have cared enough to contact me about his intrepid exploits. This has worked so well that now I am happy to launch a campaign addressed to any undulating quartet of Icelandic teenagers to receive Marcus - a happenstance I would relish myself - on his next port of call to the pulsating tunes of the Shangri-Las.
Now, the bad news: Although, an executive vice-president of Standard Horizon regardless of warranty issues, is looking now into send him a replacement charger for his handheld vhf radio, this might take longer than he needs. Besides, as the coasts of Iceland are not precisely sprinkled with Radio Shack outlets, in the absence of a kind soul who might be inclined to lend him a satellite phone, insulting fortune might capped the circumnavigation, as his inner Bcu men is telling him that the best judgement is not to advance into new territories without a reliable forecast. The hazards are just too pressing.
I will be just too happy if my global influence reaches any reader that by chance, is able to muster the support that Marcus now badly needs. If so, please contact Karen Wissel, as I must leave to the Lofoten 24 hours from now.
However minimal the odds, my sincere thanks in advance to you all.
It’s not the ships. It’s the men what’s in them.
Joseph Conrad
December 3rd, 1857 - August 3rd, 1924