University of New Orleans

    It was quite the thing to be in one of the first classes at UNO.   Everything was new and shiny.   It brought out the best in people. I played music at the Hovel which was a small venue after hours in the rear portion of the Student Union.  My music was well liked but nothing ever came of it. Too bad.... I still can write good tunes.

      All the musicians used to gather in the soundproof music listening room that was a plush affair. The bass player, Alan Langhoff mooned out the whole school from this room leaving a butt print on the window. Alan was bit eccentric appearing like a Harpo lookalike of the time. He brightened many a depressed student during those years.
    One day, I wandered into a lecture given by an FBI agent. His topic was the mafioso in New Orleans led by Carlos Marcello. His lecture actually brought tears to my eyes as he described the cruelty of these gangsters. He illustrated this by describing the individual's parenting skills. His daughter would not stop crying.  He put her in one of those dog shipping crates.  She stayed in this cage for weeks before her father was arrested and the FBI finally broke into the apt. This little child was so traumatized she could not stand upright for a long time. Her hair had been raggedly cut and she was fed dog food the whole time.  This is just one short story about the Italian lifestyles in New Orleans.  I still love Spamoni ice cream though.  I sat down and reflected on this lecture for quite awhile.  Everytime I saw a Gambino Bakery I remembered this child.
   There was so much happening at this tight campus during those years.  I bought the Blond on Blond album. I was probably the first to have that record in the City. I took statistical analysis along with algebra both of which sank my grade point to a danger level.  The last straw was Chem 2B. I had to change my major to psychology which I was not interested in. Statistical Analysis was the show stopper.   Funny how one thing leads to another. I was forced to drop out and retreated inwardly.
     The bookstore became my refuge since I wanted to know everything. I would stand there reading until the store closed late into the night.   Exhausted, I would catch the Elysian Fields bus to Gentilly Blvd. and walk the few blocks home to Jasmine St. all at my Mothers expense since she was bankrolling my education. 

       I remember getting so sick my stool turned black. This was as bad as it gets when you are home alone and can't take good care of yourself.   I lost weight and my swimmers muscles atrophied at a very fast rate.  Something was killing me and I didn't have a clue as to the nature of my illness.  My Mother knew not what to do for me.  And just as quickly, I got better and better. I finally could start repairing the damage to my education and my body.    I went to work at the only job available to me, waiting tables in Vaucresson's Restaurant on Bourbon St.
     The people I met in this working environment were certainly different and struggling with life. I remember the cooks well. They would start early making the gumbo.  They would continually add ingredients throughout the day such as seafood, chicken, bits of meat, celery and of course, spices. 

     It was my goal to become a spice merchant in New Orleans.  I saw myself going to different countries and arranging for shipments.   In New Orleans you must have a job or you could wind up on the streets like so many, dying in the doorways.  It takes a long time to die that way.  You lose your job in the summer and by winter you will die by the old man's friend called Pneumonia.  Where did that long lost uncle go?  If he went to the big city and failed then this is what killed him, either that or a cold jail cell.  They don't heat the prisons. It is better today but it is the hardest life I know.  

      A young man's only real hope is his family. This is why many joined the service. This is hardly an escape but it does toughen and change you to the point that you are focused on one thing, surviving. You can learn a skill that will be useful in your life. It will keep you out of the criminal's way of life.
      There is nothing easy in this world from my point of view.  If by some chance you got a free ride to success then don't squander the chance to do some good with it.  There are piles and piles of corpses that all say the same thing. Life is hard then you die.
     My scouting friend Ricky Spain, wanted to be a working songwriter as well.  He wrote many songs. I can only remember one splendid hook he composed and incorporated in his music. It went like this: 'If I was traveling on, I'd stay and be your man'  This to me epitomizes the youthful angst of the times. Ricky would also use the Hovel as a springboard into the world of performance music . He would show up in red suspenders and captivate his audience with a western drawl and a sincere longing that brought him appreciation from the audience. Not all understood the intellectualism his ballads brought. I lived with Ricky for a winter in the French Quarter. 

     We shared the apt. for a long winter eating Campbell's Tomato Soup.  That's when my step brother was kicked out and became homeless. We took him in for awhile until he joined the Navy and went to Vietnam.  Crystal suddenly became my live in girlfriend.  She was a veteran groupie from Miami with connections to the Blues Image people. We met one night in the Quarter and she followed me home. She made the best tuna casserole ever. 

     Roger Asher visited many times and was trying to get me to participate in the music business.  He had been to the west coast got hooked on speed came back and got busted for dope that same year. He was selling real estate for his father.  Funny how all this happened in one winter.. 

     My nervous system was in shock, my body was missing essential nutrients. I was carrying way too many credits at school to do well. My grade was slipping closer to the cutoff of 2.0.   I had to do something. I simply moved back home and got deathly ill.  I woke up in the hospital and nearly died except for my parents recognizing how bad I had gotten . I was hospitalized with little fanfare. No one came to see me except Mike, my brother.  No one at all.
    Back in those days, we were watching the sky for spaceships.  Why we did that I could not tell you. It could have been the Mobile Bay incident when two people were abducted and subsequently released.     

     These events were incredibly interesting to me because I wanted out of my life situation of continuous hard work and a low paying 7 day a week job.  This kind of life direction was all I had to look forward to.  The best I could do was a waiters job. 

     Survival was my only option.  I was hoping for rescue which never comes even though they know you are drowning.  

     This is when I joined the International Gawkers Society. I was a card carrying, fun loving IGS  founding member.  Laughing at troubles didn't get you free of trouble.  It was just better than crying. Trouble was coming every day.
         I suddenly used the old rule of thumb and left for the west coast with 50 bucks in my pocket hidden somewhere on my person. I began my journey to Nowhere Soon.   During those years of 1968 1969 and 1970 I attended many festivals that brought to together many millions of people who enjoyed life in the fast lane.  I went to many of them with Miami Pop Festival being the first.  I hitched the whole way to Miami and the Gulfstream fairgrounds where the festival was held.  There I met Decky who knew Jerry Jeff Walker.  We stayed at Jerry's bungalow for a few days after the festival.  This was an art festival as well with many artists displaying their creations.  The bill was exceptional with James Brown and the Famous Flames as well as, many rock groups that had suddenly become famous on the backs of the bluesmen.  The blues being the foundation of most jazz players.
      I was skipping school at UNO to analyze these festivals.  Suddenly it was summer again and the New Orleans pop festival was happening at the Speedway out on Hwy 61.  The date was the Labor Day weekend of 1969.  

    Ricky and I went to see this festival as well as many of the young and restless of New Orleans.   I never expected anything to happen.  Ricky brought some acid and we dropped together. As I started to trip,  I lost Ricky in the crowds around the stage.  I didn't realize much because I had done nothing but be present.  I looked around and the whole speedway became a swirl of orderly light slowly forming a vortex.  I became the man to receive the golden Light of Love.  I was directed onstage to witness the Jefferson Airplane followed by the Grateful Dead from San Fransisco.  Janis Joplin was there as well as Jimi Hendrix.  The music was incredibly loud and my teeth started aching making enjoying it unbearable.  I was tripping watching the music turn into colors and shapes as I had been sitting in front of Jack Cassidy's speakers that projected all sorts of shapes and new dimensions.  This went on for an hour and suddenly it was over, but not for me.  

     I could not seem to leave the stage. I was encouraged to follow the single thread of light. It continually got smaller and smaller until I finally had to sit down in the lotus position and look up. The one long haired equipment manager surrounded me with amps.  I was now in command, so to speak. As the honey colored light descended from the single spotlight, I became afraid.  I needed to know what this was all about.  I saw a young hippy watching me from the shadows and I beckoned him to come and explain this phenomena.  He came alright.             He asked me one question...How much do you know?  I couldn't answer it. What sort of answer was he looking for?  I just wanted this ordeal to be over.  I pondered it for a minute...I got up.... the light retreated and people started to pack up the equipment.
     There was a single folding chair at the edge of the stage.  I took a seat to watch the glorious sunrise.  I finally needed to get up and go search for water...after 4 hours your body just demands water and nourishment.  I wandered down the stairs and across the field. 

      The same hippy came up to me.  I knew not what to say. I just wanted to get home and rest.  I soon wandered away still tripping. I came to a house and asked the old woman for water. She gave me a drink but was completely afraid of me. The horse knew something was different about this strange man. I normally get along with horses. The trick is a simple offering of food.  After a few more minutes watching the clouds and sun express themselves in a tormented way, the police showed up and offered me ride back to New Orleans. She must have called the police.  These guys were very kind and dropped me off at my Mothers house on Jasmine St.  I locked myself in my room and would not come out for three days.  I finally collapsed in bed but woke up still tripping like crazy.
      I had to come down.  This is a clearly as I remember that day of Sept 3rd 1969. My Mother was very concerned about me.  I could not explain what was going on only smile at her.  I had school the next day and I managed to make all my classes but was still tripping.  The lectures were directed at me for some reason. I garnered a little bit of respect but that was wasted.  After class, I started to wander again.                There was a circular power plant that was open. I circled it and found my way inside.  Then for some unknown reason, I started to disrobe. They called the campus police and the took me to the Dean of Men.  I was in his office when I started to peak. I collapsed and the police held my head up in the exact position to receive more energy from the sun.
      After that, and a trip to the hospital I was given Thorazine to eventually come down. Docs recognized I was incredibly high and this was the treatment..  The downer part was taking front and center now.  They called my Mother who was working downtown. She rushed to my beside.  I could do nothing but sob at my foolishness.  She finally took me home.  I was expelled from school for many months and when I did return to the University things had changed.
   I was never the same after that ordeal. I stopped having contact with my friends who always had drugs.  I could no longer concentrate but was constantly distracted by the afterglow.
I continued to write for street rags like the New Orleans Express and In Your Ear.  These were music reviews.  I attended many concerts completely free with a seat always right down in front.  With pen in hand,  I documented groups like the Allman Brothers, Elton John, Steppenwolf, Little Feat and many others with the artistic quality of youthful admiration.  Those days will live forever in my memory. I received free records from distributors to listen to.

         Susie Quattro came to NO to play in City Park.  I reviewed her act as well as Jimi Hendrix who was just incredible.  Live fast die young was the way we all did it.  Nothing but the Blues.
       I was promoting a festival at the University hosted by the Ecology Club.  I was a founding member.  These festivals attracted such acts as Poppa Duke and the Mud People who came late in the night to play their music.  These festivals are still going on even today out there on the lakefront at the old Camp Leroy Johnson which was given to the University of New Orleans as part of a state grant.  

    This made it possible for the music to have its complete expression in an unrestricted environment.  For good or bad, the music lives on in the people who hear.

Dili and East Timor

     Gb got out of Darwin to go to Dili by signing on a geriatric sailing vessel. This  58' vessel was not sailing at all but motoring since there were no breezes inclined to be found night or day.  

       It soon became apparent this ship was going to Singapore for no good reason.  Gb hung his string hammock in the standing rigging for his last night aboard this beautiful ship run by fools. Just peering down into the galley was enough to set the stomach swirling.  The only safe place was in the bunk. There one could slip into semi consciousness all the while the boat tells you in great heaves and shudders, that making headway is always fraught with dismay.
       He jumped ship in Dili after a few unfortunate happenings with Yolanda on the Atlanta. She was beautiful but unwilling to share her feminism with the single guys. After he got his balls back he moved into a hostel. A few days there and he gathered that the separatist movement was based on the mass shooting in the cemetery a few years ago. Dili was now occupied by soldiers.. 

       The United Nations came to protect the fragile peace from the extremists in the Indonesian government led by Sukarno. Many of these UN personnel are so bored,  that they become addicted to narcotics. They come from Africa and are very comfortable in their air conditioned pristine white SUV's smoking dope.
     The only refuge from the heat is in the air conditioned internet shops.  These are always crowded with schoolies and other me people with time on their hands.  You pay for your computer time through the nose meaning before you ever sit down you must pay. It takes a long time to reach the web and send email.  It is the same all over the world. These shops have a sideline. It is stealing data.  If you log on to your bank website make sure you restart the computer to erase the data.
     Gb really had some time on his hands now that he had left the ship of geriatric fools.  The young guy who helped him find the great hostel that served food in an enchanting garden wanted Gb to go to Atauro Island offshore of Dili to live with his brother's family. It was a welcome departure.  

        He even convinced a beautiful, I'm young Korean girl to make the trip with his entourage. Soon they were aboard the ferry that serviced the island. Little did they realize, this would become a truly remarkable adventure into the wilds of Indonesia.  The new President of East Timor was aboard this ferry.   He was bringing rice to the starving populace in a humanitarian gesture after we contacted his office describing the suffering. This should be a regular occurrence now that he has seen the desperation that starvation brings.

     The first thing one sees upon raising the island is the giant Banyan tree. This tree provides shade on the hot afternoons for those waiting for the ferry. Everyone comes to this ancient tree.  It has been the meeting place for as long as anyone could remember. This Banyan tree saw the signing of the charter for the Dutch spice trade and the liberation from the Japanese. Generations of Ataurans have stood beneath these strong limbs. Many a canoe was constructed here. It is the giant umbrella that shelters everyone.
        I managed to get around on foot and see other hostels surviving on the few divers that came over.   I took a look at the condition of the sea.  All I could see was piles and piles of dead coral.  There was no sea life near shore.  The centuries of occupation had long since turned this body of water into a desert. 

     They were just beginning to grow seaweed from rafts like the Japanese but those operations take many years to begin producing.  There were other attempts at growing fish in weirs. The few gardens did produce greens for the table. These were like the old victory gardens of the United States that were family affairs that fed only themselves. 

     There were many coconut trees. The young guys learned to climb them for coconut water and a little food.  Rice growing was a possibility but you need a steady supply of flowing water to maintain the rice fields.  The few Australians who provided medical care, were always overworked and only came on a Wednesday once a month. You either got better or died quickly in the heat. Everyone was very friendly.
    There were a few experiments with purifying drinking water by first settling and filtering the sediments of runoff then bottling it in the recycled plastic soda bottles. They would lay these bottles on a sheet of roofing to bake and bake in the sun for a few days. The ultraviolet light killed the pathogens.  I never tried to drink this but the proponents said it worked well. 3 drops of bleach to the gallon does the same thing.

     The town is planned with street grids and a rudimentary water supply. Nothing fancy for these people at the far end of Indonesia. Most live on small farms that are simply subsistence places of a nondescript variety housing extended families. 

    I parted with a T-shirt because someone asked me for it.   It said I'm from San Diego' which peaked everyone's interest for I was the first American touring there for sometime.   I was welcomed and given the run of the place.
        I wanted to see was the medical care being dispensed by the Australian NGO. I managed to find housing for this group of clinicians that were now making Atauro a regular stop. The Australians are very kind to the many regional tribes in these remote areas.

        One night fifty of us were watching one TV in someones' yard when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a man carrying a body wrapped in a blanket. This unsettling sight began to make sense when I noticed the man's age and the frail shape of the corpse. I surmised that this was a relative being transported to the cemetery under the cover of darkness.  No fanfare, no wailing or gnashing of teeth accompanied this sad affair. Only with quiet respect is a death like this acknowledged.  The time had finally come for this old soul to depart the physical world for some other realm that we do not perceive.

      Life is simplified into death. The conservation of energy states that nothing is ever lost only changes its vibratory state. We all go through this transformation. With or without our desire to remain here forever.
   I stayed there for a month investigating the island ways.   My hammock was my bed.  I slathered myself in insect repellent until that ran out then slept near a smoky fire to drive away mosquitoes.  You make the fire smoky by placing green grass in the fire.  We used to do the same thing with Spanish Moss in the swamp lands. The island is a charming departure from the hustle of Dili. Fare thee well.

Barging into Hydrogen Production

      To get away from the scrutiny and laws that takes the wind out of your sails, we need to set up shop outside the 12 mile limit for most countries. Somewhere near the horse latitudes should be just fine with light breezes to turn the rotors nicely and a ring of barges to protect the core plant with the retort wells built into the hull of the main production barge. 

      These wells would hold the anode (+) and cathode (-) with the specially designed heads that looks like a giant hole saw dangling in the saltwater and braced to stay centered in the well. The well is then capped with a semi-hemisphere and a vacuum is established in the chamber so that the vacuum enhances the splitting of the water molecule. The Hydrogen is taken from the anode side and siphoned off and compressed. The Oxygen is siphoned off and compressed at the cathode. A simple divider would suffice to separate the two gases.
          A voltage regulator would be inline to control how much voltage is needed to produce the optimum production with the least amount of wear at the heads. Roughly 24 volts to begin with stepping up the voltage incrementally to achieve optimal production.   Remember this is still experimental! You would want to run this plant 24/7 with a few days of maintenance to scrape the salt from the electrodes and refine the precious minerals that have collected such as dissolved gold and silver, magnesium and other concentrates that are inherently in ocean water.
     Taking the water from the bottom of the ocean near the outflow of a river that normally produces gold such as the Frazier or Yukon might yield more gold if one could set up there in the future. This all hinges on the political climate and acceptance of Hydrogen production as a viable energy source by the forces that be.  After all, with a minimal start up cost you'd be producing energy at practically no cost except for the maintenance of the station and transport of the fuel similar to petroleum production except the well is bottomless.   Over time, one could recombine the Hydrogen and Oxygen to form pure water for many uses not excluding drinking water that has been fortified with the necessary ingredients that support human development.

For a diversion, chasing down rain squalls and impounding rainwater via a sailing barge could add to the pride and entertainment of the crews. Crops could be grown at sea. Long lining for mussels Japanese style, growing fish under the barges would all be possible once this artificial steel island is operating. Why there is no end to the possibilities. An ocean going marina that offers safe haven for boaters. A floating hotel and restaurant would be attractive to many landlubbers as a place to snorkel and dive. A small sub could be employed to give underwater tours and do maintenance on the hulls. Speaking of maintenance why not a robotic hull cleaner mounted on magnetic tank treads equipped with powerful pressure washers and bristling with attachments such as a rotary brush that continually prowl the bottom loosening accumulated debris which in turn attracts more and more fish. Some of the generated electricity could be used for underwater lights which attract large schools of fish which could be harvested or utilized in other ways. Even the dolphins and whales could play a role in protecting this underwater Eden. Over time we will need to store energy in a battery bank.
      The two gases could be stored in railroad tanks minus the wheels floating along behind the production barge.  When filled these could be towed to shore by tugs and lifted on to rail cars and sent on their way to distribution points much as oil is sent to the refinery except no refinement is necessary.  In time, a system that is actually designed for saltwater would be utilized. The crew could spend hours fishing or diving or any other recreational ocean sport that meets their fancy.  Once the operation is set up the work will only be maintenance.
    Wives and children would all have a place and a service to perform besides the usual living such as tending the greenhouse or the mussel ropes.   One must prepare for wind and rain and extreme exposure to the sun.  At first that could be harsh but one finally adapts to these situations. Sunscreen would be a premium thing to bring aboard.   Deliveries by helicopter, ship or seaplane are all in the realm of possibilities. Having a wireless router hooked to a satellite phone would be essential for the geek squad.   Live video feeds to onshore classrooms would be another fund raising technique to utilize to keep the operational costs to a minimum.   Setting up a ham radio station would be a fun way to stay in touch with yachts around the world making this a destination for the recreational boaters who might have some interest in helping this seagoing energy station based solely on the natural extraction of energy.   Always having an eye on the bottom line is the only way to make such a scheme work during the early days of a new enterprise like this.
     Another possibility for ocean going barges is garbage incineration, Wait. Hear me out. All that ocean going plastic and fishnets, old refrigerators and stoves and floating debris needs to be recycled somehow. Why not incinerate the Great Pacific Gyre safely at sea?  It is simply a process of drying it enough so that it burns with a little help from nuclear waste.  Yeah, everybody is leery of the idea but it could be done.     

        The submarines operating in the world have nuclear power plants as well as a lot of the shipping and military vessels.   They just don't make a big deal of telling the public for fear of backlash.  All that spent fuel could be put to use incinerating garbage.  The design must be foolproof. The exhaust could be released underwater so as not to contaminate the atmosphere or tubed down to underwater volcanoes where it could finally be destroyed and put to further use creating new land.

WE NEED INVESTORS!

     Do you have a few grand lying around taking up space in that little used savings account from your last job? You might consider giving it to the Hydrogen Foundation for safekeeping. Think about it just a little. You would be on the ground floor of a whole new energy industry that is poised to make a huge impact on the future of mankind.

The Hydrogen Foundation will personally thank you !

The Hydrogen Foundation

638 Filbert Avenue

Eugene, Oregon 97404

USA


      Doctor Heronymus Phd. in the early seventies was the premier advocate for electrolysis of water.  He was the earliest visionary of the transition to Hydrogen based economies. His ideas were vast.           Simply find some of his works and you will be inspired to develop some of his free energy ideas   No copyrights. A University professor extraordinaire, I came across him in the early 70's.   I never forgot his contributions to the understanding of energy extraction from the environment.

      Magnetic levitation is used as a tool that every child who plays with magnets understands. Even Ronald Reagan advocated for magnetic levitation of railroad trains.                       Eliminating friction is the key to moving heavy objects such as trains more rapidly. You can increase the repulsion of the positive and negative by using electro magnets.  The Japanese are way ahead of the US on magnetic levitation. It is a simple thing to make the wheels into a contained system that guides the levitated wheels safely. Derailments will become an extremely rare event using magnetic levitation.

    Those huge magnets one sees in the junk yards could have uses in the ocean salvaging steel from sunken ships.  With the help of a diver and a cutting torch one could harvest tons of steel from these vessels.

Seeing Clearly through the Dark

    'Ponder this' she said. Peering wildly at the menacing swollen sunset secrets rioting mercifully behind the waves forming perfectly before tomorrow.  The glassy ink sea surface looks profoundly harmonious as I take in as much as I can.   Retreating with graceful ebbs and flows on pearl-like sands of burning amber and honey, the ocean is trying to escape itself. The frothing shadows are painted from the easel of pastel watercolors.      

       She releases her grip on this shore-bound reality tossing her head defiantly at the mere enthronement of a thought lodged in her beautiful form.  She makes her way past the lonely sentinels of peaks and troughs.             

    Moving with the surrounding harmony her sly smile points to the slipping minutes of time lost to wondering.  The water glistens.   Amused at this slight rejection it gathers again to caress this dream. This nymph, our Lady of the Ocean begins her plunge down the face of a gently curling dragon.   She is still laughing at the utter joy of being.                     Fecklessly fearless and massively awesome she is stoked and stroked by the sea.  Her life hangs breathlessly balanced.          Momentarily, she is caught in the cacophony of silence as her fin shreds the glassy skin of this tumbling dream creating that cosmic hum only the fishes hear.
        Slowly and surely, the other ladies of the sea make their way along the now sullen colored shore. Strung together like flaming pearls in the receding sunset, they stoop to greet the limpets clinging to this reef of time.  

      This is celestial seafood market for Tongan women. Looking up, one notices the faint shimmer of green as the sun makes its final grasp at sky as it plunges into the carbon black waters like a drowning, fiery man.  The looming darkness stands ready to take the stage. A faint red glow appears as the wash of light relents its hold on this earth. 

     Just a small marble lost in the grab bag of the universe as it becomes clearer that our old friend Mars is making his presence known. His curving profile is clearly etched as the sunlight glints on his worn and weary face.

       The first candle is lit for the evening.  In the gathering coolness, the Umu fires are brought to life.   Soon the Umu will be smothered by the wet banana leaves and burlap to keep the temperature comfortably hot.   The suckling pig is roasting with the leaf wrapped fish.  The taro is toasting to a nut brown. The manioc is struggling for a place in the Umu.  The feast is set Tongan style, with stacks of fruit and fried fish with the suckling pig as the guest of honor on the long table cloth on the ground.         

       There are hundreds of ways to prepare coconut creme in Tonga which is made for the dipping of everything. Only in Tonga can you eat until you perish. Many do.

My Truck Driving Woman

Well, we crawled out our houses and sat down beside the road
Your Mama don't love you and your Daddy says 'You gotta go'
Well that's alright babe I ain't far behind
You're my truck driving woman, I'm a hard man to find.

We'll sleep in the bushes next to the setting sun
We'll rock and a roll, make love for everyone
So baby if you believe in me, things will be just fine
You're my truck driving woman
I'm a hard man to find.

We'll travel and travel, we will go far away from here
There won't be a voice, talking in your ear
The only thing is the highway sounds
Making music to the wheels goin' round.

So break away honey
A place is waiting that we can find 
You're my truck driving woman
I'm a hard man to find

The Life on Palmyra Atoll

      Upon leaving the the sanctuary of Keehi lagoon we ventured into the mighty Pacific on board a sail driven vessel with no name. Due south was the course for Palmyra Atoll. Not long after leaving Keehi Lagoon we thought we could relax a little. That however, was not the case. I saw it first. It was just a smudge on the horizon. It was coming on fast. This was a US sub in the Swordfish class.   

        Brian delayed changing course saying we had the right of way. Not in this case. It suddenly was on us. We just barely missed a swamping in its wake. Welcome to the open Pacific.
    The problem was the engine would not start. Brian was baffled, befuddled and sort of drunkenly confused in response. I said it is usually the electric connections as we peered down in the engine compartment below the sole. He finally took my advice jiggled the connection to the battery and sure enough, the engine sprang to life. Laurie put the helm over just in the nick of time. We were nearly overwhelmed by the tremendous wake this vessel threw up. 

    I could see in the aftermath of this event. There were dead fish that could not get out of the way. The skipper of the sub gave us one of those WTF looks as he raged on with no clear destination. 

    You might remember the Japanese fishing vessel that was struck by a sub practicing rapid surfacing. Quite a few kids drowned that day. It was our lucky day not to drown.  These guys will not stop for any rescue on the open ocean.
        Palmyra Atoll was our first stop on the magnificent tour of the South Pacific. 'Just keep 'er pointed 180 degrees due south,' said the drunken skipper. After 21 days at sea we raised the island making landfall at dusk. Our rate of travel was sometimes 200 miles per day at 7 knots. It was slower, especially crossing the Horse Latitudes which left us becalmed for days. 

       We motored for a few hours each day in these latitudes looking for that squall to drive us a few more minutes south. Finally, we were overtaken. The squall slowly approached the ship.  

      Imagine the glassy waters instantly turning into a frothing monster with huge, pelting raindrops pounding you into submission. The rain marched up to us in a distinct wall of water. We gathered our wits and got the soap out. We instantly lathered up for this unique cold shower which took days to plan. 

     After proper positioning of the sails to refill our water tanks at the goose neck, we motored on. We were finally able to clear these doldrums and continue on to Palmyra with the mercy of heaven and favorable winds. This was the first of three events that enthralled us.
      The second, being at the absolute deepest point of the Pacific except for the Marianas Trench and the Tonga Trench, this happened....   

       In his haste to hoist the mainsail after the doldrums the skipper left his homemade winch handle in the winch. It shook loose as the vessel rocked to and fro. It fell overboard after striking the deck one time thus setting it to wildly vibrate. As it entered the water it threw up those tiny vibration splashes. 

    As it plummeted to the bottom of the briny deep roughly 5 miles down in a sort of daze Brian realized his mistake.  Stopping to reflect on this great distance down to Davy Jones locker, I remarked that it probably was still vibrating when it finally landed in the soft sands of the Pacific Ocean.  Davy Jone's locker just got heavier.  Luckily, we had a spare.
       The third amazing thing that happened while standing watch at 3 am was an unusual boarding. The ship was plowing through heavy seas. Out of the darkness there appeared a fleet of projectiles headed directly for the vessel barely visible under the spreader lights. Increasingly larger, they sailed over the deck right in front of my face. Flying fish as big as mackerels were in a school of air born frenzy. They were swarming the ship. These fish were wild eyed and sparkly as their great orbs peered into mine.

         For just a few seconds the amazement of both parties was palpable as the fish hung in the air. The ones that were tangled up in the rigging turned into breakfast for the crew. 

      We were refreshed and ready for Palmyra. At first the islands appeared on the horizon and continually grew larger as we closed the distance.  I sang out 'land ho' and pointed. The ecstasy was nice.  However, Lorie was not ready to give sex to the crew.
     Darkness caused us to anchor for the night outside the channel that was created during World War II. With the island rangefinder still intact, we waited until the sun was high and behind us as we began the treacherous navigation of the coral filled channel to the safety of the inner lagoon.  I was at the bow on the lookout for gigantic coral heads as big as houses. 

       This is like flying blind with about a 50% chance of making it without a grounding.  We lined up the range finder as best we could and began motoring in. After a few nautical miles of this we arrived at the anchorage and were surprised by the number of vessels already there.

        We threw the hook over and launched the dinghy for a row around the lagoon showing our friendly selves to the locals. The first thing to happen was a shark following the dinghy. I was leaning back with my hands on the transom close to the water when Brian said 'better pull your hands in' and laughed that laugh of a diabolical joke. I could have lost my hand or worse.

     Welcome to Palmyra. Glad to be free of the tumultuous Pacific, we relaxed at the thought of three weeks here.  Afterwards, we landed at the boat launch that was created by the Seabees (CB's) Construction Brigade. We met the old salts who had been at this particular spot for some time. 'Palmyra Yacht Club' was stocked with enough powdered Margarita Mix to open a bar. Some sailor left it here for all to use. Sailors are such optimists. The shark jaws hanging in this hut were huge. They become larger as you drink.  BYOL was clearly stenciled on the wall.
  That's when I saw my first coconut crab. Theses critters are as big as the legend. Their claws are huge. They climb the coconut tree and cut the stalks with these giant pincers then back down and feast after tearing into these coconuts. They move at night so you can't really see them during the day. If you use your flashlight it will reflect off their retinas. Don't be too afraid of them. They are eaten for protein and are scarce now.
     These sailor sojourners had just gathered mussels for dinner. These mussels had been growing a long time for they were as big as dinner plates.  Along with other sea creatures that were caught made for a delightful stew of huge proportions. The beach barbecue was a Palmyra tradition. 

        One of these fantastic mornings, I chose to launch myself off the ship's spreaders.  It was a spontaneous thing and somewhat idiotic. I climbed up to the spreaders to survey the island. Rather than climbing down I chose to step into oblivion with a swan dive.                  

        However, I failed to develop a plan by using the 6 p's for any venture. Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Thinking back, I should have rocked the boat before launching.  I pushed off with sufficient force. The boat gave way and I was headed for a close brush with the side of the ship. I missed the hull by mere inches. All's well that ends well but was that ever so close.
        I threw out my line with a hand tied fly hoping to catch an edible species. Something grabbed the lure.  I was dragged around the lagoon until the hook straightened.  It let go with a surge that almost threw me overboard. This is why man fishes. It is the possibility of catching an unseen monster. I was probably a shark of some size. I was actually very glad to have lost this fish.
        Our drunken skipper offered everyone a chance to go spearfishing with him since he had scuba gear.  Many took him up on this.  He speared a huge parrot fish which was subsequently barbecued on the beach.  I declined to go to this barbeque simply because I was still recovering from seasickness which makes you dehydrated. Lucky thing too, because everyone at the barbecue came down with Cigutaria which is caused by the corals as a self protecting mechanism.  

    These Parrot reef fish eat the coral.  Over the eons the coral had developed this protection from these fish by emitting poison which does not actually deter these fish but builds up in their tissue. The fish simply developed immunity to this poison.           

       Such is the fate of the unstudied forager. It takes about three days of bed rest and plenty of fresh water to overcome the malaise of poisoning. It really hurts because your whole nervous system is effected. I became the Nurse for everyone who ate this fish. I was secretly smiling though.

    By now, we had gathered information about the fresh water tank which is why Palmyra is such a haven for yachtsmen. This is a huge catchment of millions gallons of rainwater.  Always full and constantly leaking this reservoir is the temple for all South Pacific sailors. 

      Fresh water showers are one of the most valued moments for sailors. We immediately plunged into the hard work of filling our water tanks on board the 64' sloop. You never know when you will drink your last drop. We were down to our last gallon of rusty drinking water when we spied our landfall even after filling the tanks in the squalls. 

       The joy is overwhelming finding water in abundance when you are at sea on the very salty ocean. Drinking saltwater will slowly dehydrate you. Death comes a little faster if you elect to do that. A small amount is great for the electrolytes though.
        Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.  The 6 P's of sailing were seldom followed by this skipper. On the first night we were awakened by the tink tink tink of the hull striking the coral wall. We had dragged anchor. Instead of diving on the hook to check the set as all good seamen do when in a new anchorage, we neglected this.       Brian did not attend to his duties. He wrote it off to fear of sharks. The South Pacific can be kind at times. This was one of them. 

     On a subsequent night one of the skippers came roaring up in his zodiac with news of a significant earthquake in Alaska. Tsunami warning!  It turned out to be a false alarm. There was definitely a shortage of excitement on Palmyra so any news or paranoia must be shared.
      The Frenchmen came limping in at sunset. Their sails were blown out by boarding seas with most of their gear spoiled. They were in bad shape. They also had on board a wine cellar with some of the best wines from Marseilles. After hearing of this, the finding of a sewing machine was easy. Enough manpower to overhaul their sails of their yacht was found ready and willing to apply skill to the problem.
       Soon after this crisis was settled, another ship appeared outside the channel calling for a dinghy to lead them in.   It seems that they allowed the sole chart to blow overboard while the 6 crewmen were all standing around it with nothing in their hands or heads either, we were soon to find out. The skipper was a Korean War hero who managed to kill 7 North Koreans with a camp shovel. This was amazing in itself. The rest of the crew had different stories. None of which turned out to be true.           

       These men were mostly former criminals escaping to the new wonder of Australia. If you don't know, Australia was created as a prison colony back in the day of British colonization. The ills of this crew were ulcers and boils that all needed medical attention.  All I had to offer was baking soda which is the universal cure of almost everything except death.
         The next ship in was skippered by a French MD, his wife and kids all crammed into a 27' Cheoy Lee.  His services were badly needed by everyone.  He offered his services unrestricted.  We gathered food for him and the family.  We carried his water and saw to his needs as a way of paying. Seamen are not known for having money.
      There was another French couple that were just married in Paris and sought the warmth of the South Pacific as a way to set themselves up in life. After all, a good travel story is the life of the party in France. I asked for and got a haircut from this beautiful Parisian girl.  Her husband was never a few steps away, though. It was a quick and dirty cut. My long pony tail disappeared into the coconut debris.
     The lagoon is filled with black and white tipped sharks which made for hazardous swimming. During the heat of the day they migrate to the bottom of the lagoon. The big bulls are outside of this lagoon.  Lorie found out the hard way one day diving with the French sailors of the disabled yacht from Marseilles. 

      It's a funny story...there is never a shortage of dark humor on Palmyra.  As they came flying up from the bottom with the bull chasing them, they were leaving the water like seals.   Less than 3 mm of rubber between them and certain death.   

      It is a long way from home to have the sails blow out. These guys were lucky to have limped in for repairs. Lorie was the only single girl for thousands of miles. Her dance card was full.  Such is the charmed life of a world class gypsy.
     Taking a hike around the island brought breathtaking vistas both above and below the surface of the waters. Standing on the bank of the channel and looking underwater with a face mask was quite astonishing.  

     Herds of Buffalo fish were charging through the vast underwater valleys of coral. Great Whites were cruising for scraps of food. They were lazily picking and choosing as if at a gigantic buffet table. The Tangs were like a subway crowd moving in unison and making way for the larger species.  The colors are extraordinary hues of pastels of yellows, greens and reds all sunlit and beamed with streaks of light. You find yourself participating in this web of life simply as a momentary witness of the sanctity.      

     Suddenly, a bull shark saw me and made a charge. I stepped back from this attack.  He was out of his element. Talk about an adrenaline rush.
     Army and Navy are two dogs stranded by some sailor on Palmyra Atoll. The adaptation of these dogs is astounding. These sailor dogs hunted juvenile sharks by standing in the clear shallows using those skinny dog legs to attract these juveniles then waiting until they got close enough to bite the dorsal and throw the victim onshore.This was done in one quick move.

      Opening coconuts with their teeth was another skill of adaption that amazed us. Their teeth are worn down and sorely in need of dentistry. 

      The coconut crabs are huge with the carapace being over a foot long. The bonefish in the central lagoon are the biggest I have ever seen and are easily hooked because they don't know fear.

        Thus the need is to protect these islands by the Hawaiian Nature Conservancy. They bought the islands and have set up a sanctuary for all the inhabitants. You need special permission to visit these days. I heard that the State of Hawaii now oversees them. The Coast Guard patrols regularly to keep the odd seaman off its shores.

       On the beaches, one sees the huge piles of plastic garbage mercifully deteriorating in the bright ultraviolet light. The fairy terns are always hovering overhead.  Never having seen anything like you before, one can reach up and the tiny thing will land on your finger. Further down the beach and on the north side of the island is the great history of the war years memorialized in the pillboxes and wrecked planes slowly being reclaimed by nature.
      There is a troubling dark side to the history of Palmyra. You can read about it in the old newspapers of Honolulu. It is a murder story of some consequence.  I won't go into detail here.
     As is the pastime of South Sea sailors, retiring to the shaded cockpit for a Mai Tai or something more dramatic is dream everyone relishes. As if on cue a ten foot Manta explodes into the air right off the stern either seeking to engorge himself on bait or simply shake off some parasites. With a great whoosh he plunges into the slowly darkening depths.  

      Either way, it felt good to see these creatures at play getting ready for the long night ahead when the krill start making their way to the surface. Let the feedings begin.

   As with every sunset in the South Pacific, if you don't find a seat facing west then you've lost the most entertaining part of your day. Your mind will rebel and your eyes won't work if you miss the one exciting moment of nature's finest display.
        The days of glorious, fiery sunsets will forever be imprinted in your noggin for you to enjoy for a long time to come.

     I was once at a lecture in Arcata, California about delivering boats to their new owners with a hired crew. Refitting the vessel at sea while under way is challenging and death defying for a delivery crew.  

     The remarkable thing about this slide show was after the first couple of slides about the ship and crew all the rest were increasingly picture perfect sunsets that were masterfully artistic visions of warmth, comforting to everyone who was there and was so enthralled. Being bound by the cold grip of winter, this was the most refreshing thing any skipper could have done for his audience.

Captian Cook 1976

       I found myself in Hawaii looking for a doctor to heal my broken hand. It was gonna take more than a doctor. I needed a surgeon. While I was looking, I was living at Captain Cook Monument down below the town of Captain Cook with all the other Rainbows who thought living wild and free was the way to go. That is, until you break something like your hand.  Bad mistake..        

    On my first night, I decided to sleep on the sand just a little way from the ocean. I immediately fell into a deep slumber. The full moon was rising. I was basically happy to be here.
    I was awakened by a burning in my side.  I jumped up to find myself surrounded by scorpions.  I had no intention of waiting for the next stinger to find flesh.  I leapt over this deadly ring of assassins and made my way to the safety of the ocean.   It was now two o'clock in the morning and sleep was out of the question. I sat looking at the stars trying to erase what had just happened to me.  

     I heard the story of the guy bitten on the scrotum by the giant orange centipede. His ball sack grew as big as a basketball. It took weeks for the poison to be metabolized by the liver.
        It seems there are Germans everywhere around the world. There was this couple living in the Kea'we thorn brush, completely and unabashedly, without a stitch of clothing between them.  They appeared to be quite content having nothing but the need of zories to protect their feet from the Kea'we thorns. You quickly become accustomed to seeing nudity all around you in the wilderness of Hawaii the Big Isle.

     The stars in Hawaii are quite spectacular and easy to identify, if you know your way around the heavens. One can see the Southern Cross in the winter from Hawaii. It is low in the sky but still makes a grand appearance.  One is basically looking at the southwest sky when at the Monument.
       While with the Rainbow Family one need not wear clothes.  One of the first things I did was disrobe. I certainly did not want anyone to think I was different. Somehow people are easier to meet when you are completely naked.

      This was our mission. To meet yachts coming for the 200th year of Captain Cook's venture into the Pacific and his untimely death on this overgrown beach with the memorial tablet awash in the surf forever. This bronze plack marks the exact spot where the war club from a Hawaiian warrior dispatched him from this earth. I followed in Capt. Cook's wake around the Pacific over the years although, I flew in a jetliner much of the time.   I made all the same landings he made and more.  I read as much and as many books about the Cook Voyages as I could find in remote libraries of the Pacific. 

      I remember sitting in the open air courtyard of the Honolulu public library as I perused his journals and charts in preparation for my own South Sea voyage.  I found the campus library willing to let us xerox some of their charts which proved incredibly helpful in planning the trip to Southern Climes.  These were invaluable for the Palmyra Atoll landing.                       

      There is a long approach to the quiet lagoon there. The range finders are still being used as a guide into the channel. As I said before, this landing held the vast treasure trove of fresh water that every yacht requires for a safe voyage. There were many yachts there for that reason alone.

      Nowadays, the atoll has been incorporated into a protectorate by the State of Hawaii.  This is a good thing for the State to be doing.

       Barbara and I hit it off pretty well. She is a German girl who came to spend the winter in Hawaii with us at the Monument.  She was in love with a skipper visiting there at the same time.  Who am I to interrupt romance? We hung out everyday watching the sky and ocean discussing the astronomical wonders.    

        One of these days, we were visited by a squall that passed wide of our location. In its trail it left rainbows galore for us to admire. All this might seem planned and choreographed but I tried to explain this happens everyday in these latitudes. She still recorded every moment in a letter complete with raindrops to her Mother who had never seen such a thing. 

      One evening just at sunset, we all saw the alignment of the planets. This was my other reason to be in Hawaii at this moment in history.
      As the sun set in its fiery glory, we could see the roundness of the planets as the sun's rays diminished. One could make out seven of those heavenly jewels which won't happen again until 2013. This is the reason I went to Panama then. One does not consciously plan these things. Events just happen while making other plans. 

      Once you rent an apt. you must sign a lease. This means you must put away your traveling shoes and become a householder.  Sometimes it is God's will for you to travel.  In my case it was unruly roommates who forced my hand. When you are with pickles make relish. I hit the road South.
    After I got my first cast, I put up a note at the local supermarket. I was looking for a situation where I could rest and work without too much strain on my hand.  Lee answered my note with our contact point being General Delivery of the US Post Office in Captain Cook.                

      Lee is a tall, swarthy Hawaiian with some Portuguse blood. What is called hapa hoele is Lee Masaris. He was trying to raise a family on this tiny plot of land. 

      He needed me as much as I needed him. For the cast to work, I had to stay perfectly still. This was not to be.   In exchange for a roof, I needed to work a certain amount of hours each day doing hard chores that required a total commitment. I was constantly digging holes to transplant banana corms.  

      The jobs we did were odd jobs such as jack hammering blue lava which is by far, the hardest of lava rock.  We washed windows in Kailua at some jewelry store.  We would go fishing in the evenings. Lee was an expert in throwing the cast net.  I would flap my arms to herd the fish towards Lee.

       My right arm kept getting weaker as I favored my left side now.  We also took contracts for traditional luau pig roasts. We would hunt wild pigs up in the Ohia forests with his dogs.  He carried a big old .44 pistol to dispatch the beasts.  The boar's teeth were given to me for a remembrance.  We set up the spit and gathered the ingredients for the Luau because we were entertaining the American Consul for the Philippines.

       It was not but a year went by when I heard his plane had crashed. At least he might have had some good memories before his untimely death. We all meet the same fate whether we plan for it or not.   Death is always in the shadows waiting to greet us.  I soon caught a plane back to the Pacific Northwest where I finally got the first of three surgeries the hand required. These were super hard days for me.
         When I first arrived in Hawaii in 1976 I was trying to get to Captain Cook by thumb.  I was standing at an intersection when a car turned on to the highway. The guy in the backseat pushed his weapon out of the window showing me the muzzle with a flash suppressor.  He hesitated to let one go at me.  I figured he knew there were witnesses which probably saved my life.  Hawaii is not a safe place for white people.  In fact, even Hawaiians are afraid to get caught in situations with other Hawaiians who are threatening.

     I had a lot to learn in this new place. Opening coconuts was one of my first lessons. No one eats for free. You need to learn about zori's. Never rely on those rubber shower thongs. Always look for a slippa with proper webbing. The rubber will only cause infections in the worst place which is between your toes.
      I developed staph infections all over my legs and feet. There is no way to get rid of it except with antibiotics. It is the curse of the tropics. Always carry penicillin if you can.   If you don't use it you will meet someone who can use it. I get mine in Mexico.  You have to ask for it in the drug stores.You should not be sold something that has additives you don't need. Tis the best medicine for what ails you.
       To lose the blues, I would walk over to the other beach where the surf breaks heavily on the rocks. I forget the name but Napa'poo is close enough. These episodes were the absolute best. I used the waterproof cast as a skimmer to get the jump on the waves. I got so good with body surfing I'd surf very close to the rocks ducking out of the wave at the last possible second to land on my feet on the rocks.

      Crazy days of youthful splendor when nothing could be better than living as fully as I could. People would come to see the white boy do up the waves. I would hum a bass line for some music I was working on.  Some of these people were so desperate they would memorize the lines I was singing to sell to the music companies. Did I care? 

      Music is so unique that developing any new sound that is innovative and not copyrighted is worth its weight in gold and diamonds.  When you think about that though, you realize thoughts and music weigh essentially nothing so weighing against gold and diamonds is ludicrous. Just pointing out language barriers. Music is the best language there is.
       As you walk down the road to Napa'poo there are Macadamia orchards to the right as well as the intense smell of the plumeria. The orchards have been poisoned because of the mongoose which has replaced rats as the Hawaiian version of vermin. Their beady eyes are all you will see of them at night. The retinas reflect red. It is sort of disconcerting until you figure out you are basically safe.           

       They were introduced by the Europeans about 1830 to kill snakes? There are no snakes in Hawaii so it must have worked, right? The Brits from India used Hawaii as a stopping place to replenish and rape a few native girls before carrying on.  They also spread diseases such as the common cold which kill thousands in a single season. The Hawaiians had no immunity whatsoever. Read James Mitchner's Hawaii for a genuine look at the vast history of the Hawaiian Islands. The other wonderful read is: The Fatal Impact.  You will be astounded.
       One of these splendid days the trimasted Brazilian training vessel dropped her anchor just outside the little bay of Napa'poo.  One of the divers all dressed out in wet suit wanted to swim out to her and take a closer look. I'm game for this so I tagged along.  The waters are so deep I kept imagining myself as a little rappala lure attracting the denizens of the deep.  That Jaws movie haunted me for a long time while I was in the Pacific.
         The crew must have been unruly on the crossing. They immediately began refitting the ship at the command of the officers. No shore leave for this rowdy bunch.                           Nevertheless, they seemed happy enough but the bosuns mate carried a cat o nines as he prowled the deck.  We circled the ship smiling and being native-like.  

     On another glorious day the Mistress made landfall near us.  This is FDR's old ship that was bought by some NJ consortium of mafioso types.  Nonetheless, she is still beautiful. We met up with the purser/cook who was dressed in white linen and had long hair. He invited us aboard in exchange for information about our location and logistically important details.  We thought we would be offered a drink or a snack. Instead we were given Brasso and a rag to polish the portholes and shine her up.  We left her beautiful again. Try and get information about what you will be doing on board before ever setting foot aboard a strange yacht.  This was a slave ship.
      The skipper was a true asshole. He managed to buy a truck with no windshield. He had a huge body and a tiny head that told everyone he was to be avoided.  After getting my passport in order which was a challenge since the feds made it so difficult to obtain this valuable ID,  I flew to Oahu to join up with NSA people.  It was my very first passport.  Now I could travel.
        Nicherin Dishonin Association is a new age Buddhist group out of Japan. I knew them through Steve and Shirley on Orcas and they set me up with contacts on Oahu. I was offered a job as a cleaner in Haliewa on the North shore of Oahu. This job was cleaning barracks at the army base.  Military people are trashers.   

       Every cleaning was monumental.  It had to pass the white glove test. One small speck and the job had to be done over. The owner had a crippled sister who need a wheel chair ramp built. I signed up for that since the cleaner job was effectively killing me.  Since I had a place to sleep now, I started to bus to Ala Wai Yacht Harbor to look for yacht work.       

       The Viveka is a grand old twelve meter yacht that was being restored by this old salt of a skipper.  He hired me but didn't pay me anything even though I did a lot of work for her.  He gave me a giant, comical sanding block to fair the hull from the dingy. I helped him in the shop to mill up expensive blocks of wood like mahogany and ironwood.  

    After days of this, I asked for my money.  He turned a deaf ear. That was that. So long. Never again.                   These skippers turn into angry old men in a flash. I suggest you take your time to ask questions and don't be afraid to leave at an instant.  They never come looking for you. Some of these guys are better off by themselves. That's why they became sailors. So they can drink themselves to oblivion. Sailing is a love/hate kind of thing. Ahoy Mate ARRR  Pirates all....

Living on the Beach in Dominical

     Much of my time was spent under the green tarp in my hammock watching the huge storms march up the river mouth. These 'tormentas' are beautiful and terrifying. The coconut grove I was living in at the far end on the southern part of the beach was somehow spared of all the heavy winds and lightning that descended from these storms that begin at the end of winter moving swiftly through springtime with a slight respite for summer. The storms commenced in earnest in the fall laying waste to the family beach scenes that were so intriguing to me. I stayed on through the worst of this onset.

     The lone crocodile came out of his lair to relish the freshwater and see if he could catch something running by him.  I benefited too, as the storms knocked down the green coconuts that were my source of fresh water and nutrients.
    One morning, I was having breakfast at Tortilla Flats.  This is normal for most of the single guys traveling on a budget. Who walks in but a Bruce Willis look alike.  I actually thought it was Bruce for a long time afterward. This guy had a collapsible fishing rod poking out of his day pack. He wanted to know about fishing at the river mouth for the big snook that cruised the coast. He certainly got everyone's attention.

   A little white dog was barking at the lagoon. I noticed the telltale V of a crocodile swimming towards this little noisemaker.  I tried to warn the owners but they had no control over this dog. Suddenly in one swift moment, the croc devoured this poor thing in one gulp. The owners were distraught but nothing could be done.  The dangers are immense in this area of Costa Rica.
      That is when I met Anton the Russian and his sidekick from Sweden named Matteo. These guys were camped on the beach below me in the blazing hot sun looking all the worse for wear. I suggested they move up into the shade since white skin does not do well in the hot sunlight. I suddenly had two extra mouths to feed since they were traveling with nothing but trouble.  It seems they were headed to the beach resort where I had abandoned Rob the bomb.   

      I felt it was alright to make friends with them at that moment.  It turned into a bad decision since both of these guys were on the run from Europe for some indiscernible reason.  

      I got into a protracted argument about who was more powerful the USA or Russia?  As he continued to insult the USA, I warned him he was getting into trouble with me.  He continued to raise his voice over my objections. I popped him in his mouth with my open hand. I told them to go which they did.  

         In the morning, I saw them for the last time loaded up and heading to the highway. These guys were killers headed to a bad ending. I later heard Anton was fighting in Ukraine. I like the Ukraine. Careful who you make friends with. They could be hardliners.
      One evening, we were sitting around the beach fire when a man appeared out of the darkness. He had what seemed to be a body over his shoulder. As he moved into the circle of light, it was apparent he had a giant snook he just caught at the river's mouth.   My guess was he wanted to show it off before the big cleaning event at first light which I attended.      

     It begins with gutting. As the entrails fell on the ground, he took special interest in the stomach.   He slit it open and retrieved his battered lure that caught many of these giants over the years. Cleaning fish this big is hard work.  Reminded me of my Dad cleaning redfish with the electric rotary scaler in Louisiana.

   This being alone is certainly remarkable. One can hear the whispering wildlife, the seagulls and the restlessness of the ocean. Its rhythms soothe you while you dream of somewhere else. Yet...there is no other place to be more fully aware of yourself than a deserted beach.
     I was completely by myself again in the coconut grove. The nights were long with few visitors to disturb the peace. Occasionally, a group of travelers would find their way to my campfire.  We would pass the time discussing everything Costa Rica. They were interested in picking my brain about different resources nearby. 

     They departed soon after sharing some wine. We sat on the beach looking out over the ocean watching the trawlers loiter over the huge underwater sea mount just offshore.

        These fishermen were after a variety of species.  Shrimp or squid were the most likely since that is done at night when these critters rise to the surface. 

     A sea mount like this one is home to many fish communities that depend on the river outflow to bring nutrients to these waters in the ongoing cycle of life.
    There is not much to do but walk the beach during the morning and evening. One day I found a Sea Bass that lost his head to a shark attack. The fish washed up on high tide. I was about 16 lbs weight. I gave it the sniff test.  So far so good. I invited him to dinner and he accepted.   

         A surfer camped nearby.  He had a beautiful girlfriend.  They had no money.  Only a return ticket back to Canada.  I was now cooking for three.  These folks came looking for the perfect wave and had yet to find it.

      I was headed to Cape Matapalo. They stayed with me until we pulled up to that beach driving my green SAAB 95. This is the best surfing on the entire west coast.   Boy, were they happy to have met me.
     One day, my friends from the police station drove up and asked to see my visa. I showed it.  They said, 'you have three days left'.  I packed up and drove to Panama to get the new visa stamp for Costa Rica after spending three days in Panama.  Another three months in Costa Rica!  I was now staying in Hotel Astoria with parking for my SAAB behind a fence in San Isidro. The rooms were cheap.  Eight dollars per night was all I spent at the Hotel Astoria for many nights. 

     Restless me.  I traveled the winding road again down to the beach. Things were different now. The sound of silence had ushered in a new awareness that this was wilderness once again. I stayed a few days more but it became difficult to continue on this beach.  The rains became deluges that were bent on erasing all traces of human occupation. The waters were now muddy and dangerous with huge surf. There are other good beaches besides this one to explore. I was still looking for summer's return. I would not find it here.

    The tropics are endless at this latitude even in winter. Any beach will do but the Costa Ricans have learned to charge for beach space. Always travel with money.
     My brother sent me an email.  He was coming to Costa Rica to see his land that our cousin Billy arranged for him to buy. It was the best property in the area. High on a hill top to catch ocean breezes that waft in. One can actually see the ocean from this vantage point. He drove all the way to Dominical and found my hammock in the exact place I told him to look.  It's always nice to renew family ties. We drove up to San Isidro and had lunch and talked at length about everything imaginable. 

        He was staying at Billys' palatial mansion so we had a barbecue.  As the sun slowly set, I made my way down to Quepos and the hostel where I stayed for the night before making the long drive back to Dominical and the strange life of a beach bum. I finally said goodbye to that beach.
    Traveling northward, I pulled into Jaco Beach which looks like any other tourist trap. It was still summer there. I stayed at a hostel for a few nights playing strip poker with the single ladies. One becomes jaded about nudity in these settings. Clothing optional is how many people survive in the wilderness.    

         Only if you are fit. No one enjoys seeing a dysmorphic body. Since I stopped carrying any instruments with me, I would be inclined to pick up a guitar or drum and start playing. Anytime I did other musicians would join in and add something to the sound until it became a beautiful spontaneous creation. Talent is everywhere.
     My shoulder was still hurting as well as my intercostals due to the fight I had in Portobelo with the crazy drunk at Pirates Cove. I went to the Pacifica Hospital Emergency Room in Panama City. I had x rays that showed the extent of injuries.  I said it was a sailing accident that threw me against a bulkhead. I was not going to get into a detailed explanation about the why and wherefore of this injury.  That was the worst ending to a fine trip as I have ever experienced. The long drive home to San Diego was the next phase of this remarkable journey that will live forever in my mind.

   Driving one handed was a challenge. I could hardly lift my arm. I crossed the boarder into Guatamala fairly easily.  Just lots and lots of patience is what it takes at these crossings. Mexico was easier.  You don't want to stop because it invites trouble of an unknown nature. You can always tell you are in Mexico. They paint the tree trunks white.

    I crossed into the states and made my way into San Diego. I called my friend whom I worked with in the CCU. I asked if he knew of a place for me to hole up. He gave me his brother's number.  He might have a room for rent. I was relieved.  No more hostel living for me. This leads into another episode.

Gypsy Davy

Gypsy Davy told me
Gypsy Davy said
One day you're gonna wake up dead

So I said to Davy
And this is what I said
The songs I sing will bring you
To the place of the undead


My friend David W. on Orcas has a lot of talent and skill.   His rich dad was backing him to lend a hand taking care of David's only child.   He bought the 1.2 acres Judy owned which was the best outcome since Paul left Judy high and dry with Peter to raise by herself. I stayed with Judy for a couple of seasons trying to get her set up in the candle business with a little shop by the roadside as you continue into Eastsound.
   Davy developed a business of hammered Dulcimers which are rare and beautiful to play on those cold and lonely nights by the fire.  He also played a 1750 era violin built in France which had the marvelous tone that is so sought after by violinists worldwide.               

      Melissa, his daughter is full of life and wanted to become a doctor. This means a lot of schooling. On Orcas, it can be expensive to school your kid at the Montessori School of Excellence.  He had to sell, sell, sell in order to make ends meet.  He is  enterprising. He always made it to the Eastern Washington Barter Fair to sell his wares and enjoy the people who came to this gathering. 

       As a single man, he turned into a ladies man.  He always seemed to have a new girlfriend each season. Casual sex ruled on Orcas. I would say most of the young guys admired us both because we knew how to get some on the sly.
    Davy was always one step ahead of me.  When Mark and Debra lost interest in The Migrant because of all the work involved, Davy and his Dad bought it out from under them.  I really wanted that ship but lacking the capital made it impossible. I did a lot of work on that boat before she was sold and never got paid for the jobs I did. Such is life on Orcas.

    One day I was helping him put the roof together on the little house he was building for Melissa. He offered me some dried fruit or at least, it looked that way.  I started feeling the effects of peyote coursing through my veins. It was not all unpleasant but it made me stop work and sit down to meditate. When this happens, I start channeling energy like crazy so I could do nothing more in the physical world. 

    We both developed a case of the grins to where the face muscles hurt. Against good advice, I decided to power bike on home which was roughly 2 miles away.  I finally made it to Roehls Hill Road and had the steep climb up to my encampment.  It was all too much for me to take in.    

       I was glad to finally crawl into my down bag and dream away the rest of the peyote. My dreams were profound.  

    That was the night Steve Jobs died of liver cancer.   He actually came to me out of body trying to understand my role in this Great Mystery.  

    I had no clue for him except to enjoy my own life as much as possible.  I hope I helped him with his transition into the spiritual world..     

     Liver cancer is so painful. It turns your skin yellow since the body can't process the bilirubin. The only thing that could have saved him is a transplant.  It was his decision not to get a transplant. Apple computers or Macintosh computers were his inventions.

       Apple Corp was actually the name of the Beatles record label which was an adaptation from that massive operation.  The Beatles were as big financially as many countries. I was surprised he was so conscious. I always thought of him as a narrow minded businessman. People can change radically at the time with much reflection about death.

  I saw great suffering in the transplant wing at Mayo Clinic. The reality is you can take as much as half the liver and transplant it. The liver will rejunvenate itself so feeding that regrowth is of paramount importance.

Hawaii, the Big Isle

      It is a long way down to the ocean on the dirt path below Captain Cook.  The locals put in a golf course now, erasing the beautiful wilderness of Captain Cook. It is challenging to the surfers to jump off the twenty foot lava outcropping into the crystal clear waters near Kealakekua Bay. It's worth it because of the huge reef offshore which forms the most beautiful waves you will ever see.          You must plan well.  Only at certain times, can you even see the break.  Sometimes it is at night or early morning.   

      Even then, one can only surf a few before the conditions change. You can hear the roar in the distance.  Blowouts are common so patience is the word for this adventure.
    Stealth wins the day along with camouflage and a desire to be close to Mother Ocean. You can smell her if you haven't killed your senses yet.  The ocean scenes are inspiring as you finally get wet.            

     Your timing must be spot on. It is always a leap of faith.  The ocean is relentless as it pounds the lava into a pink submissiveness.  One careless brush with the lava and you will be slashed and the day ruined.   Suddenly there is an opening.  You step off into oblivion.  Your eyes firmly fixed on the offshore breakers and the long paddle ahead.  This will be the best day of your life.
     I had been to the Big Island many times and even visited the Mauna Kea observatory during the Halley's comet transit sometime ago.  You line up and wait in the freezing cold. You get just a few seconds to look at this wonder before you are moved away. 

      Mark Twain was the writer who wrote about Halley's.  He was born on its arrival in our Solar System and died on the comets return. He planned the whole thing. I am not that lucky. 
       That was an interesting year. We sailed the Jaladuta to the Big Island and had the sails blown out in the Alenuihaha channel. We were stranded at the farm for a few months.  We celebrated the 200th year of Lord Caitanya's appearance the very same year as the comet so looking back in history you can see how great souls appear at these interesting times. 

      For that powerful celebration, many sadhus came to pay their respects and eat some prasadum. They were covered in ash to ward off mosquitoes and flies that constantly hover nearby, waiting for that opportunity to land.

        Not knowing about other religions and calling everything not Christian as evil is short sighted and very narrow minded.  Hinduism has been around longer than dirt.   If anything, one should respect the beliefs of others before calling everything a cult.  This is the most distressing thing about Christians.
         Lee and I went boar hunting in the great Ohia forests of the Big Isle.  We brought the dogs who gave chase and surrounded the sow making a bloody mess by chewing off its ears and tail. Lee finally put an end to this suffering with his.44 magnum pistol he carried. To me, this was not hunting but watching the dogs work.  I got to keep the boars teeth as a souvenir. Life is hard and then you die.

       Lee had provided a roof that catches rainfall for me to live under.  I hung my hammock and enjoyed my cold showers. One night I was awakened by the dogs and chickens causing a ruckus. Suddenly an huge earthquake came rumbling through the entire island.  I was on the slopes of Muana Loa volcano. This is the largest mountain on the face of the earth. Most of it is hidden underwater so it fools the senses.             Sheer mass is how a mountain is calculated. On top of it was a live volcano. The vents of Kiluea are the only visible evidence of this volcanic history.  The lava regularly flows into the ocean making a huge steam cloud.         

     When it flows you had better get out of its way.  It is unmerciful in its travels and very unpredictable in how it transverses the land. 
      Far below there is a huge caldera. It felt like the ceiling of this caldera fell in, it was so large.  The earthquake that followed this event was astonishing. My mind could scarcely grapple with the immense physics of such a thing.  

     My dreams were my only sanctuary those days.  Some of them were spiritual in a guiding sort of way. The devotee's Spiritual Masters appeared as guides.  Others were simply delightful about the way ocean creatures play. In my mind's eye, I saw a juvenile swordfish swimming with another juvenile dolphin.  

     They were eyeing each other and sharing a moment in time just like young kids often do. I once saw a tribe of dolphins in a continuous swim around the Big Island in a waking dream. What a wondrous sight.   Each event has a back story that I will include one day.

Panama Cats

    There is so much to remember about driving to Panama.  When I did finally arrive I went straight to the Panama Canal Zone to have a look at those old locks before the new locks go in.  This is in conjunction with the widening and deepening of the existing channel.

        There are hundreds of ships at anchor waiting for their turn through the locks.  Some of these great vessels have been in this queue for sometime. There are only so many electric donkeys to pull ships through the locks.            

     Shore leave is granted to the crews most of the time during these pauses.  The ground tackle in this bay that had been lost must be extraordinary.  This is a salvagers dream.  Lost or entangled anchors and cables cost the company millions each year not to mention the extraordinary cargo that has been jettisoned by the crew. 

      I met a guy in Portabelo who specialized in this pirate trade of recovery of lost cargo.  By cruising the shoreline,  he found a huge stash of plastic pipe worth many thousands of dollars.  He slowly recovered each and every bundle at night.  

      He told me he once searched a Spanish fort in Panama City and actually found muskets still leaning in place abandoned by the soldiers at the sound of Captain Morgan's arrival to sack Panama.  Those muskets would be worth plenty.  More so, the history disturbed by this guy will leave you with troubled sleep. 

       The story goes that when the Catholic priest heard about Morgan's arrival,  they immediately painted the solid gold altar black.  This safely hid this relic from being pirated. You can see this altar in Valencia, Spain.  When Morgan questioned the priest he got little back except that we are a poor church.  They tell this story over and over to the tourists who come to Panama.
       The International Bridge every vessel must go under to transverse the locks is incredible to see.  The millions of cargo vessels, military ships and private sailboats, including aircraft carriers that have passed through these locks is truly astounding. There is a museum of the Canal.  The Canal itself is considered one of the seven wonders of the world.

       I was invited to lunch by sailor friends from Germany who were going through documentation process to transit the Canal.  I always try to lend a hand finding the right office because they really don't make it easy.   However, showing a big fat wallet helps in most circumstances. 

        We sat in a restaurant overlooking the channel.  The ships were passing very close.  The navigator's skills are extraordinary. Most of this transit is done by dead reckoning which is really having a canal pilot aboard who takes control of these mighty cargo ships.

    The city itself can be dangerous especially in the old quarters at night.  Do not go wandering without a guide is my advice.   I did that on my first day and the cops pulled up on me.  They said it was way too dangerous.  You will be assaulted, robbed or worse, even killed.   It is about an 80-20 proposition. 

       Get all your shopping done as early as possible. As the sun falls the people start the drinking and fighting in the overcrowded barrios of the City..

        When the US invaded Panama, it changed everything.  People still remember the night when the Americans took over.  They killed a bunch of soldiers, eventually capturing Noriega.  

      The new canal built by Teddy Roosevelt quickly became a drug smugglers route to North America over the many years prior to this.              George Bush senior made it possible for our soldiers to make the arrest.  Pineapple Face is languishing in federal prison somewhere along with Chapo.

      Carter signed over the Canal to the Panamanians. They were not ready to manage this American wonder.  This is how things go badly for American Society.  Everyone sees the USA as rich. The rest of the world is starved into submission. 

      Drugs are continually smuggled through the canal for the lucrative west coast markets of Vancouver, Seattle and Long Beach, California aboard container ships.  They can only xray so many containers and do so selectively.  This spills over into tourist resentment so prevalent in the Spanish speaking world.                    Much of Panama is very black. These are the true slave descendants from the Portuguese and Spanish slave trade that built much of South America.  Colon City is about the most dangerous place I have ever been with garbage piled high in the streets. Named appropriately, for it is truly the asshole of the Americas. 

        Drug abuse is very evident in these forgotten barrios.  Not a good place to show your white ass or black ass for that matter.  Take no prisoners is the street mantra.
       What I found the most impressive were the huge trees so well preserved in the parks of Panama City.   Bring your picnic basket and rest yourself in the marvelous shade of these giants.  You will certainly feel differently.                 There are sights to see such as the wonderful architecture, the huge fish market and the Aduana where the Customs House used to be overlooking the entrance to the canal.  It is always better to have a guide who can keep you safe for a few dollars.  Worth every penny.
     The Panamanians have rebuilt the urban core with some of the most astounding architecture one can imagine.   There is the corkscrew building that twists skyward which indicates how much alcohol is consumed on a daily basis.  

          The hostels are overcrowded and never pleasant being occupied by the youthful crowd interested in drinking and sex on the fly.  There is one hostel in the old city that does have the charm and ambience of a well controlled environment for youthful travelers.   It is large enough to contain a movie theatre and pool tables as well as a reading lounge with a balcony overlooking the streets of Panama City.  It has been operating for a very long time.

     Getting a rack there takes determination and make your reservations well in advance of your arrival.  Once there, take full advantage of the central location.  These hostel workers are filled with interesting information and will be a source for you to tap as your explorations of the Americas continue.

     Above all travel safely with no fear. You will be fine. Hot and bothered, but super content to make Panama your destination. Most speak English. 

   The jungles of Costa Rica are filled with critters of all sorts. I was hiking to Serena hostel along the beach. I came to a river that at high tide is swarming with sharks.  I had to get across. I divised a way. So at low tide, I punched holes in a can of tuna then threw it way upstream.  Sharks swarmed upstream leaving me a narrow window to wade across this very powerful stream. I quickly dumped my gear and clambered up  the other side.  

     It was getting late so I thought I'd explore a little before retiring.  I came across a family of Agoutis that were being stalked by a Jaguar.  Her prints were just beginning to fill with water so I knew she was close by watching me.  I was too big for her to tackle.  It certainly gave me the cold shivers.

    Serena Ranger Station was a few miles away. I kept pushing ahead until I saw the trail marker leading to the Station. It was dark when I arrived.

   At the interview the head Ranger checked the dates on my permit.  He immediately recognized that I had spent the night in Corcovado National Park.  He fined me 20 bucks for that little trespass.  However, he showed me where to sleep in the upper open air lift swarming with mosquitoes. Bring your own mosquitoes netting or you will suffer greatly. Those mosquitoes are huge about the size of hummingbirds.  You get breakfast and a cold shower before you are forced to leave for Gulfito on foot.

Sunburned and bitten, covered with welts blisters on your feet and ulcers in the most unlikely places. You are more than ready to get back to civilization.

    

Makapu Beach

    Hawaii is a thrill to see and enjoy. When you are near the ocean though, you need to be extremely careful.  One day, I drove out to Makapu Beach to see the conditions since there were heavy surf warnings for that morning.   Big surf is always impressive.              

    Many tour buses stop there so tourists can take pictures of the sweetest spot in Hawaii for surfers.  On this day, a group of German tourists clambered down the stairs to a large out-cropping of lava rocks some thirty feet above the ocean. They were laden with cameras and bags, dressed in Aloha shirts and sandals like any tourist that comes to Oahu.  No sooner had they gathered in a cluster at the very end of the rocks did the ocean choose to raise itself in a gargantuan sea. 

      All twenty of these folks were facing oblivion from this wave that was towering over them. I immediately started down to rescue as many as I could.  

    The wave swept them over the rocks. There were a lot of bloody knees and heads as the waters retreated. This was not a time to stand still because we knew this was only the beginning.  Big sets come in series. We helped as many as we could up the beach to safety. This is just another day in Paradise. I will never forget that day.
   The ocean causes much pain and injury. I was working one night at Straub ER when they rolled a woman into the Emergency Room. Her right eye was swollen and bleeding from an obvious trauma.  She was pulled from the waters off Makupu Beach. She was rescued by the surfers.

      Seems she had been diving under the waves as we all do.  However, when she came up to breathe she encountered a loose surf board racing down the face of the next wave. Apparently, she was not expecting this and the point of the board struck her with full force in the eye socket.  The ER docs thought they could save the eye but the wound was terrible.  She will carry that for the rest of her life. Welcome to Hawaii. Always come up protecting your head.
       For me, Makapu was a great place to go looking for lost fins. The fins boogie boarders use don't float so when they come off, they go straight to Davy Jones Locker.  I would put on my mask and fins and begin prowling behind the shore break. These fins would stay in one place tumbling with the waves.  Eventually they would escape to deeper waters. 

       You only need one fin to body surf.  The collection I had was awesome.  I would give them away or barter for other goods. It was never enough to pay for the day.  I was the man with the strange hobbies.

       There are many other beaches on the island of Oahu. The shore break at Sandy Beach is the best in the world for boogie boarders. Many afternoons were spent there picking up the carnage surfing on a falling tide creates.  

   The waves become huge.  It is very easy to fall out of the wave onto dry sand. This is how one of my friends broke his back at Sandy's. It is always crowded at this beach. You can tell by the parking lot approximately what the census is like.                                          

     Waimea Bay is the classic surf spot in Hawaii.   Many a movie has been filmed there.  Quite a few lives has been lost due to the huge and pounding surf.  If you are looking for the bad attitude boys you can find them right there at Waimea.              There is a spot called the Toilet Bowl.  When the surf is just right, it fills rapidly. Then it falls just as quickly.  Tourists find it exciting to jump in a go for a ride.  Unless you watch carefully for the footholds you could be swirling around like a turd that won't  flush.   Prepare to get wet. 

     The sand is easily, the most comfortable to walk in at Waimea. This is the beach the Beach Boys made famous in one of their songs..