after 7000 pics of utter darkness, I got this… it is at night… picture below shows the same pic without lightening. Note the lampposts and lighted windows.

I have fiddled with small motorboats with outboards and sailboats now and then, but with a few slightly dramatic exceptions it has been “sunday sailing”. The big thing has been in the back of my head for years, but a little apprehensive about my own seaworthiness, a little doubt about my own competence, finding a boat, finding a boat with good people… It sounds scary. You don’t want to be mid-atlantic, and then discover that the skipper is a suicidal maniac, and you incapacitated by seasickness with no will to live.

So when a friend of mine asked if I wanted to come along for a few days, from Germany to Denmark, there is of course only one answer; when?

When I arrived on the scene, the boat was moored on one of the million canals in Holland. “Think winter”, the capt’n said, I brought woolly beanie, gloves, raingear and a fleece. But that was the end of my pessimism. Wellies was not an option, I go barefoot longer than most. Long johns, no way. Sleepingbag for summer, a few CD’s, camera, iPad and phone fully charged.

To make a long, rather slow story short: stinking hot, glorious sunshine, deliciously sunburned, my geeky pasty skin-colour altered dramatic with outdoor days, water, wine, laughs and stories. Quaint dutch countryside (where ARE the dutch!? they say they live on top of each other, that the country is too small for six million people. I saw only quaint canal life).

The crew had a discussion about the all-important anchor dram. My argument is that it is a shot of something interesting when you leave the harbour; like a stirrup dram, before setting out. A toast for safe travels, good weather and see-you-around & godbless. Other opinions was that it is for safe arrivals. We compromised, and tried both solutions. It is important to listen to others on a small vessel, and find solutions everyone can be happy with :-)

It seems, that with time, limited access to internet, discussions take on a different hue. Small things, little wonders are discussed and ideas spun around without any real need for an answer, and the slow thought process uses different parts of the brain than when you can instantly check it out. Imagination. Flight.

Where we went is, in a way not important or ultimately interesting as such. There was very little wind, so a good deal of motoring, a good deal of canals, including the Kiel canal, that is one bizarre but ultimately boring stretch. When the locks opened in Kiel, we landed in the middle of the Kieler Woche. It was mad. Wind, sea, boats, ships everywhere: possibly the largest collection of strange vessels. Things with sails I have no name for, sails in colours, levels, floors, tiers. Vikings, phoenicians, medieval, warships, tall ships, small ships, one, two, three, four masts. Cannon ports, rowing ports, hanseatic. The smell of salt and sea wonderful, after the canal, and to see a horizon. Blue above and below.

Then there was wind, then there was sailing at last. I was a five year old in a toy shop. Happily ignorant, with a stupid grin on my face. We made our way north to Marstal. It was, admittedly, good to get out of Germany. I have had good times in Germany before, but that overhanging harbourmaster-system-ridden-small-kings-of-small-kingdoms.. well. I will not bore you with details. Besides, my German is rotten. We swapped the courtesy flag for the danish one, and toasted with aquavit when we crossed into danish waters.

It was bliss. It was fun. I got that bachelor thing out of my system and reset. Balm. It was peace, a good book, good people, laughs, stories, good food and a with a sound intake of alcohol. A little anecdote: in the lock of the Kieler canal, a dutch boat was moored to ours. We had a beer each. The dutch guy looks at us, and with slight disgust says “first beer today, yes?” or somesuch. An affirmative but untrue reply. Oh, those Norwegians! The sheer irresponsibility!

On the last leg, from Samsø to Ebeltoft, we had a little more wind. A 5-6 on Beaufords scale or thereabouts. I was happy as the proverbial pig in shit, perched in the cockpit.

Next time, I will bring a couple of good books, trival pursuit, a harmonica and sunscreen. Trust me on the sunscreen.

So now I am in Denmark, in my brothers house, reading books and blogs, dreaming. An old longing reawakened. Och. I guess I will have to try. Should you know of good people crossing to the Caribbean, please call…

To the capt’n and first fender: I am grateful to you for bringing me along.

About my seaworthiness, I still have no real idea.

(pictures here)

I haz nut.

Work work – no time to sightseeing or go arty photographing. Little snippets, though.

hey – she’s leaving, taking nuts away..

fraternising with the IT-crowd

anyone but me seeing the beauty of the book, the running fridge geeky t-shirt and the craniums peeping out of the cupboards behind?

ashes to ashes, dust to dust (this is what we are)

pretzel nonsense. cheap thrills.

I haz nut too

Photos are not always meant to show something. Sometimes they are only there to contain shapes and colours. Sometimes, it is not a magic moment, but a play of light and an interesting composition. Could it surprise you?

(by Lars)

Squirrels are the best pea-brains I know of. Oportunistic, curious, adaptable; and wonderfully forgetful. It always makes me smile when passing a tree, rock or building, with a little tree growing out of it. Forgotten nuts moves nature around.

Playing with the squirrels outside the museum of natural history makes sense. There’s a good deal of them around; easy to spot in leafless trees. Apparently, the museum have The squirrel expert. We pass his office and nook down the corridor now and then. Squirrel corner, with squirrel cartoons. Wonder if he eats nuts for brekkie.

the guy from the Smithsonian office of protection service calling the albino squirrel. She used to live down by air & space, apparently.. He seemed happy she was back.

True albino squirrel. Decisions: eat nut, or dig it into the ground?

from squirrel corner:

The worst snowstorm in over 70 years, the Washington Post says

It was the end of all things; and straight out of a sci-fi-film.

Deserted streets, abandoned cars, drifts of snow in the middle of the road. Metro, museums, shops, airport closed. People wandered in the middle of the road, emergency services in need of help themselves. Everything at snails pace. Told to stay at home. Surely, we couldn’t take that seriously: adventure!

We found the snow, but failed to see the “storm”-bit.

Sisyphus. This poor guy walked back and forth, clearing snow from the same spot over and over.

We went back to the castle, and dug out stikman. epic mission!

Cross country skiing in front of the NMNH. (photo by lars )

Random comments from random passers-by:

“you suuuure don’t wanna ruin you camera, but you suuuure don’t wanna miss this!”

“I lived here many many long time  – never, never, never seen something like this!”

“you look happy!!!”

Of course it was not the end of all things.

Today is a gorgeous, sunny day, with pretty white snow where it is decorative, and not where it would be a nuisance.

But tomorrow morning we head off to Californaey, and so the DC part of the adventure comes to an end. Shame we didn’t get to see the museums properly, but we’ll come back, and the end-of-the-world feel was class.

It was about 60 cm of snow, I think.

I study digital media. I was born in the early 70′. I am a dinosaur. My fellow students are 15+ years younger than me – born in another era, on a different planet. We learn roughly the same things from opposite directions; we each hold an end of the stick, so to speak. But we see everything in different shades. Some things comes naturally to me; they are lost. Sometimes the shoe is on the other foot.

New technology, new gadgets, new software, I need to instantly see a use for it, a purpose. I have no patience with gizmos that have no intrinsic value – a justification for existence, a value unto itself. Things that rests comfortably in their own existence. I would argue the same about art.

A few weeks back, I was up in the mountains, sans plan, direction, meaning; sans electricity, sans internet – and it struck me how much easier it would have been, could I look up accommodation, interesting places along the way, approximate time & distances, weather forecasts, trekking routes.
I discovered that my phone in fact have navigation. I’ve had it for over a year. I fiddled with it for two minutes, and then lost interest. And bought a map. I couldn’t be bothered. I will go, the weather will be what it will be, the sights surprising or boring, the accommodation, well, worse case, I’ll sleep in a ditch or in the car. Legends and stories do not come from trips that are minutely planned and goes accordingly. Nor surprises.

Sometimes the technology gets in the way, keeping me away from goals or desired direction. If I got lost in thick fog in the mountains, I would be happy to have a GPS to help me find my way, but if the weather is reasonable, the fiddling with buttons and gadgets would be annoying, invasive. People with their noses constantly stuck in a  phone, iPod or GPS annoys me no end. Beside, the worry that you might run out of batteries at some critical point. And you will. Trust me, I have some experience with that.

My learning curve is to learn technology. For my fellow students, the most educational would be to go without.
They are born with reasonable graphic user interfaces and applied technology, I am more or less born in medieval times. Developing a sense of direction; a feeling for maps. Gadgets comes naturally to them, I use few and discard most.

And that brings me to the tech stuff that actually works. Being a bookbinder in restoration, you’d be excused to think I would be a complete nazi regarding books. But I have been given an e-book reader, and it is simply brilliant! It works, it travels well. It rests in it’s own existence.
I wish I could.

bucket

bark

roof

wall

house

table

concrete

door

Just a hop, skip and jump over the border is a zoo dedicated to species threatened by extinction. Admittedly, I was most excited about the big cats, and though not my favourite pasttime – to google caged animals – well. There is something about big cats.
But I would happily have someone cage all the people there, and certainly the children. Screaming, running, throwing pebbles at the animals, I was tempted to throw them in with the panthers. Add their parents, for good measure.

I love otters- they are the best. Lively, curious, playful, funny.

And people have no patience. To see the snow leopard, you need to stand still for a long, long time, waiting for it to swish it’s tail and show you where it is hiding.
There is one in this picture, in fact it is a mother with two cubs. See if you can find it..

big cat here somewhere..

Beautiful animals. I was a little disappointed that I couldn’t see the european wild cat or the lynx – I stood and stared for ages – but it makes sense. It is perfectly adapted to be invisible in the swedish woods.

the lesser panda – if that isn’t gorgeous

wolverine – beautiful carnivore

ibis

prezewalski horse – the only wild horses left

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