11.30.2012

In a Week's Notice

From the book 'Out of Antarctica: reflections on the origins of people' - pg. 45 - "A song, called the Song of Kahu-koka, indicates the precise route that needed to be taken to reach Antarctica from the islands:

Now do I direct the bow of my canoe 
To the opening whense arises the sun-god, 
Let me not deviate from the course 
But sail direct to the land, the Homeland.
Blow, blow, of Tawhiri-matea, God of the Winds! 
Arouse thy westerly wind to waft us direct 
By the sea road to the Homeland, to Hawaiki. 
Close, close thine eye that looks to the south, 
That thy southerly wind may sleep. 
Allow us to sail o'er the Sea of Maui, 
And impede us not on our course. 
She stirs, she moves, she sails! 
Ah, now shall speed Tane-kaha, 
The gallant canoe of Kahu-koka, 
Back to the bays of Hawaiki-nut; And so to Home. 


 

Have knife, will cook, so goes the way of my gypsyfied cookworks over the last four years. I'm always the on the edge for a new adventure and a way to help protect the wild. Here I ride, weaving together the Earth's energy at a time when it's most needed. As the shamans of Peru have told me - you cannot plan everything, but you can prepare.


A sustainable-minded kitchen crew on a vessel sailing through the Drake passage of Antarctica that delivers eco-tourists via an off board drop-in by sea kayak to a colony of penguins is my mission. Mission impossible made possible. Under immigration laws I cannot work while in Canada until I am granted residency, thus I must leave family and find work beyond the borders to help provide those physical necessities - food, water, shelter. I am building a house for the stars to enter.


Save the Krill. Shoulda, woulda, coulda brought my essential cookbooks with my knife bag. Oh well, hopefully my memory and Googling recipes will be enough. ETD - Dec. 10th. Travel plan - Toronto to somewhere in Central America to Argentina to Antarctica. See you on the flip side.

11.22.2012

Cottage Country Canada

It seems like forever ago I was in Hawaii lying in the sun eating the world's biggest avocado.


I wanted to take a piece of the island with me - so, I got a tribal tattoo of the spirit of the island, moon and sea on my right arm; an extension of the seed of life. I've grown into a new being and I feel like I'm surfing the wave of life. Tattoos are a good way to permanently represent these changes; the becoming of age, of man, of father, of son and son of the sun. Surf it. I am barely in control of anything anymore. What is control anyway? Control what? Why control? Just ride. Full steam ahead. This life is an evolutionary journey and to sit docile in it's wake watching the bow breach the unknown while sitting on a geographers peddle stool is not for me. I am the arrow that penetrates the soul of the sea and breast of our Mother and may it be brother wind that determines my direction and time.

During my last 24 hours on the island I sold my truck, got a tattoo, said goodbye to my co-workers at Papaya's Natural Food and goodbye to all the locals I met at Starbucks. This painting was drawn by the tattoo artista I worked with and I think it's a good representation of the river of life.


Twas 18 hours in the air from Kauai to Cincinnati. Once in Cincinnati, I grabbed my lonesome box of goods from my mama's basement, tossed in my tropical wear and pulled out my Antarctic extreme cold weather clothing. Ready, set, go. Sunshine to snow.

The next morning I was on my way to Toronto to meet up with Jessica. I got caught up at customs and immigrations at the airport, and it took me at least two hours to get across the border. They drilled me with questions as to why I am returning for a second time this year and why I want to stay as a visitor for at least a year. Well, actually, I would like to live and work here in Canada and not be a visitor, but that's going to take some time and money. Years of patience ahead. I want to, need to, be with my life companion and help her and her family... is that too much to ask for? Whatever happened to the days when we could just hop on a boat and sail to a foreign land and a be a part of a frontier? How did my great great grandparents get here and why can't I do what they did?

If there is to be grand unity on Earth, then tear down these borders. Competition and isolation and individualism amongst nations are precursors to war and disharmony. It is time we face the final transformation on Earth. Given our abilities to travel and trade globally there is no excuse to be at war with our brothers and sisters. The freedom to migrate is of natural instinct. Have natural instincts been replaced human knowledge and civil limitations?

Crossing the border and puffing smoke out of my ears I hooked up with Jess and then jumped in her sister's boyfriends truck with two dogs. Off to Parry Sound... a Canadian classic cottage town. After a two and half hour drive north from Toronto we pulled into a cottage surrounded by woods. We unloaded the truck and I proceeded to initiate our medicine table.


After a couple weeks of sleeping in the back of the Ford in Hawaii a real bed was quite the luxury. I find it hard to sleep now without the music of the waves crashing on the beach. This is one of the biggest transformations I've ever gone through and although it's for a good reason, for the sake of love and family, I'm constantly being hit with the memory of the peaceful island life. If only I could blend the two together. Then again, that would be an utopia and destined to be swallowed by the sea.



The morning after we arrived the first question that popped up was who wants to go for a dip. There was a bit of ice forming on the water near the beach, but that didn't stop us...


or the dogs.




The water level in Georgian Bay was rather low for this time of year. Lack of precipitation? Overuse of the aquifer? Damming? One of the cottages was dredging out a deep canal so that the boat could dock. The docks stood high out of the water.


The cottage.


Our basic necessities. This is all the possessions I have and need.


Mmm... a real fire. Haven't sat next to one of these since I left the Alaska lodge in September.


Stevo, Kath and Jess.



Squeezy.



Kathy's bfast tator fry with eggs on the back burner.




The explorers.








Nature. A place of bonding. A place of truth. A place of peace.


This forest was exactly what I needed to ground myself. Whenever I travel far over a quick span of time I almost lose myself in the whirlwind of change. Not sure quite where I am heading, where I came from or what day it is, but I am here.









Kather Blaster.


The Arctic Cowboy.


A leaf blower is as good as any bellows.




I forget this pups name. Snowflake? Cotton ball? Fuzzy golf ball?


Life at it's best.


Expedition #2 - to the caves.








A shoreline shot of Canada's cottage country.



Natural gas.



48 hours in cottage country then to Jessica's mums place in Hamilton, where we currently reside. Here is a festive painting by Jessica of the nativity scene.


The Hamilton.



Smoggy smells of steel with hints of baked goods.






The herb shop.




Oh, the city.