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August 1, 2005

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

At fear of appearing to have suddenly got into poetry, or that I'm trying to come to terms with my feminine side, talking about Ithaca reminded me of my favourite poem when I was at school. Although I wasn't into sailing at all back then, it was, coincidentally, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and I ended up studying it for my English 'O' Grade all those years ago. But rather than make you suffer my dissection of it, here's the poem itself.


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Text of the 1817 version with marginal glosses


PART I

An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gallants bidden to a wedding-feast, and detaineth one.

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
`By thy long beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ?

The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin ;
The guests are met, the feast is set :
May'st hear the merry din.'

He holds him with his skinny hand,
`There was a ship,' quoth he.
`Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon !'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

The Wedding-Guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.

He holds him with his glittering eye--
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child :
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone :
He cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

`The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather, till it reached the Line.

The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he !
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The Wedding-Guest heareth the bridal music ; but the Mariner continueth his tale.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she ;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

The ship driven by a storm toward the south pole.

`And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong :
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
The southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold :
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

The land of ice, and of fearful sounds where no living thing was to be seen.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen :
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around :
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound !

Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality.

At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came ;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit ;
The helmsman steered us through !

And lo ! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating ice.

And a good south wind sprung up behind ;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner's hollo !

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine ;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'

The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen.

`God save thee, ancient Mariner !
From the fiends, that plague thee thus !--
Why look'st thou so ?'--With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.


PART II

The Sun now rose upon the right :
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo !

His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck.

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe :
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch ! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow !

But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime.

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist :
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze continues ; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free ;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be ;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea !

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion ;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

And the Albatross begins to be avenged.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink ;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot : O Christ !
That ever this should be !
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night ;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

A Spirit had followed them ; one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels ; concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan, Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no climate or element without one or more.

And some in dreams assuréd were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so ;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root ;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

The shipmates, in their sore distress, would fain throw the whole guilt on the ancient Mariner : in sign whereof they hang the dead sea-bird round his neck.

Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks
Had I from old and young !
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.


PART III

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time ! a weary time !
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.

The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.

At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist ;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist !
And still it neared and neared :
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship ; and at a dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail ;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood !
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail ! a sail !

A flash of joy ;

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call :
Gramercy ! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.

And horror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide ?

See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more !
Hither to work us weal ;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel !

The western wave was all a-flame.
The day was well nigh done !
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun ;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.

It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace !)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.

And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.

Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears !
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres ?

The Spectre-Woman and her Death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship.

And those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate ?
And is that Woman all her crew ?
Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ?
Is DEATH that woman's mate ?

Like vessel, like crew!

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold :
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice ;
`The game is done ! I've won ! I've won !'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

No twilight within the courts of the Sun.

The Sun's rim dips ; the stars rush out :
At one stride comes the dark ;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.

At the rising of the Moon,

We listened and looked sideways up !
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip !
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steerman's face by his lamp gleamed white ;
From the sails the dew did drip--
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The hornéd Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after another,

One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

His shipmates drop down dead.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.

The souls did from their bodies fly,--
They fled to bliss or woe !
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow !


PART IV

The Wedding-Guest feareth that a Spirit is talking to him ;

`I fear thee, ancient Mariner !
I fear thy skinny hand !
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.

I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'--
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest !
This body dropt not down.

But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea !
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

He despiseth the creatures of the calm,

The many men, so beautiful !
And they all dead did lie :
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on ; and so did I.

And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away ;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat ;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they :
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high ;
But oh ! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye !
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward ; and every where the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.

The moving Moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide :
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside--

Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread ;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charméd water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm.

Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water-snakes :
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire :
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam ; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

Their beauty and their happiness.
He blesseth them in his heart.

O happy living things ! no tongue
Their beauty might declare :
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware :
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The spell begins to break.

The self-same moment I could pray ;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.


PART V

Oh sleep ! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole !
To Mary Queen the praise be given !
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.

By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.

The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew ;
And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank ;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs :
I was so light--almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blesséd ghost.

He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.

And soon I heard a roaring wind :
It did not come anear ;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.

The upper air burst into life !
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about !
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge ;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud ;
The Moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side :
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on ;

The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on !
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on ;
Yet never a breeze up-blew ;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do ;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee :
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.

But not by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint.

`I fear thee, ancient Mariner !'
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest !
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest :

For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast ;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun ;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing ;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning !

And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute ;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased ; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe :
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

The lonesome Spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid : and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.

The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean :
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion--
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound :
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.

The Polar Spirit's fellow-dæmons, the invisible inhabitants of the element, take part in his wrong ; and two of them relate, one to the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been accorded to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.

How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare ;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.

`Is it he ?' quoth one, `Is this the man ?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless Albatross.

The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'

The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew :
Quoth he, `The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'


PART VI

FIRST VOICE

`But tell me, tell me ! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing--
What makes that ship drive on so fast ?
What is the ocean doing ?'

SECOND VOICE

`Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast ;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast--

If he may know which way to go ;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see ! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'

The Mariner hath been cast into a trance ; for the angelic power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human life could endure.

FIRST VOICE

`But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind ?'

SECOND VOICE

`The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly ! more high, more high !
Or we shall be belated :
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner's trance is abated.'

The supernatural motion is retarded ; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew.

I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather :
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ;
The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter :
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away :
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

The curse is finally expiated.

And now this spell was snapt : once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen--

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head ;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made :
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring--
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too :
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
On me alone it blew.

And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.

Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed
The light-house top I see ?
Is this the hill ? is this the kirk ?
Is this mine own countree ?

We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray--
O let me be awake, my God !
Or let me sleep alway.

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn !
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock :
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.

The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,

And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

And appear in their own forms of light.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were :
I turned my eyes upon the deck--
Oh, Christ ! what saw I there !

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood !
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.

This seraph-band, each waved his hand :
It was a heavenly sight !
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light ;

This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart--
No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot's cheer ;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.

The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast :
Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.

I saw a third--I heard his voice :
It is the Hermit good !
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.


PART VII

The Hermit of the Wood,

This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears !
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
He hath a cushion plump :
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.

The skiff-boat neared : I heard them talk,
`Why, this is strange, I trow !
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now ?'

Approacheth the ship with wonder.

`Strange, by my faith !' the Hermit said--
`And they answered not our cheer !
The planks looked warped ! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere !
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were

Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along ;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'

`Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look--
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared'--`Push on, push on !'
Said the Hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirred ;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.

The ship suddenly sinketh.

Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread :
It reached the ship, it split the bay ;
The ship went down like lead.

The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat.

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat ;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round ;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit ;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars : the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
`Ha ! ha !' quoth he, `full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to row.'

And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land !
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him ; and the penance of life falls on him.

`O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man !'
The Hermit crossed his brow.
`Say quick,' quoth he, `I bid thee say--
What manner of man art thou ?'

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale ;
And then it left me free.

And ever and anon through out his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land ;

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I pass, like night, from land to land ;
I have strange power of speech ;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me :
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door !
The wedding-guests are there :
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bride-maids singing are :
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer !

O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea :
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seeméd there to be.

O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company !--

To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay !

And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth.

Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest !
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

August 2, 2005

Salcombe to Torcross

Our next section of walk began in Salcombe, the most southerly town in Devon, and a favourite sailing destination on the south coast. We grabbed an overpriced fried breakfast in a harbourside cafe which appeared from the prices to cater almost exclusively to the yachtie crowd then set off to buy some sandwiches to take with us for lunch. After a bit of hunting around we were told that, bizarelly, the town doesn't have a supermarket, and as there was only one convenience store far away, we just decided to set off.

We caught the ferry, which is really little more than a small wooden boat, across the river, walked around Mill Bay, and climbed up into the woods, wondering where we'd next manage to eat. We passed one sole couple walking their dog, then the landscape became more rugged, the trees stopped, and we were alone. As the weather had been so good recently, we were wearing t-shirts and weren't carrying jackets so naturally the wind picked up and it soon began to piss down. We stumbled on past Prawle Point, where some art has been cut into the vegetation on the hillside - but we couldn't figure out what it was - then past a lovely, secluded beach at Sharpers Head. A very fit couple sped past running at this point as we sat eating chocolate, having a break, making us feel very out of shape.

The wind and rain continued until we were totally drenched, pushing through the wet undergrowth until finally the lighthouse on Start Point came into view. Trinity House, which oversees lighthouses and marine navigation in Britain describes it as, "one of the most exposed peninsulas on the English Coast", and it certainly felt like it as we walked through the rain along the barren cliffs. As soon as we passed Start Point, however, the wind dropped, the rain stopped, and the sun came out. In the distance we could see the village of Beesands, where we'd spent the previous night, and we began to dream of sitting down to a lovely fish lunch in the Cricket Inn pub there.

We marched into the pub, however, and were destroyed when the girl behind the bar took great joy in telling us that they'd stopped serving food ten minutes earlier. We tried to plead with her by telling stories of our great hardship, but she didn't care, and suggested we eat some peanuts. We sat starving, drinking our pints, as our opinions of the pub being a lovely, happy place quickly vanished, then we set off in a daze on the last section of the walk.

After one more monumentous hill we descended into Tolcross and desperately hunted down some sausage sandwiches to keep us conscious. It was hot and sunny by now but we were wet and tired. I took my permanently wet socks off to reveal swollen, pink feet that looked like they were suffering from some tropical disease. Such is the pleasure of long distance walking.

August 4, 2005

Major Security Incident

My mountain bike had been living in Cornwall since I'd gone cycling there a year or so ago and, as I wanted to do some cycling in Finland this summer, I decided to fly it back with me. Luckily, one of Simon's friends was going up to Heathrow on the morning of my flight and agreed to give me a lift in the company's van.

After the bombings in London, security was verging on paranoia at Heathrow airport, and as the van was too high to drive into the car park they drove in front of the terminal building to drop me off. Immediately, we were stopped by two huge policemen who looked as if they were straight out of Baghdad, with machine guns, bulletproof vests, sidearms, and eye protection. None too happy to have their secure zone invaded by an ominous white van, they agreed to let it stop at the end of the terminal to drop me off.

I jumped out with my assortment of suspicious looking black waterproof bags and carried out the huge cardboard box with my bike inside and the van sped off. There weren't any baggage trolleys outside the terminal, however, so I walked a few metres away to look for one. A car pulled up and two more armed policemen jumped out and began inspecting my luggage for bombs (as you do). I owned up to it being mine and one of them began screaming that they'd already had a complaint about it and I'd apparently "caused a major security incident." I shouted back that if there aren't any trolleys outside the airport then it's physically impossible for me to get one without leaving my bags.The police then stopped shouting and agreed to go off and find a trolley for me. There was an El Al flight to Israel checking in nearby which no doubt added to the tension over my WMD luggage.

On arrival in Helsinki I discovered that, once again, my bike had been damaged in flight. It appeared to have been dropped and dragged along the ground, breaking some of the chainring teeth and bending an axle in the process. Seeing it, I wondered if it could have fallen out of the plane while we were flying. Filing the damage report took forever and the airport was almost empty by the time I surfaced out of baggage claim and finally met up with Carita.

August 9, 2005

Free Wi-Fi

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It appears, now that it's summer, that we're slowly creating a computing community in the garden outside the flat here in Espoo by keeping our wireless internet open. I looked out of the window the other day to see a couple of guys sitting at a bench with laptops and when I took the dog out I spoke to them and discovered they were in fact using our network. I told them they were welcome to - after years of using other people's open networks when I've been travelling it feels good to give something back.

August 11, 2005

New iTunes Phone?

Could this scoop really be the long-awaited iTunes mobile?

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August 12, 2005

Airport Security

Here's a great short video from passport control (Windows media 1.2MB).
Thanks, Simon!
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August 13, 2005

Carita's Birthday

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It was Carita's birthday last weekend, as well as being two years since we met, and for the first time we were celebrating it in the Finnish summer rather than a Mediterranean heat-wave. We started off the day energetically with a game of paddle tennis, and everyone was amazed at just how bad we turned out to be.

Later, after some drinks and a bottle of champagne, I took Carita to Restaurant Michelle for dinner. Helsinki doesn't seem to have many slick-looking, independent, modern restaurants - most are very traditional in design and cooking, so Michelle seemed like a good option. The atmosphere was romantic and peaceful when we arrived, and we both had the fillet of reindeer, Daniel Saint sauce and cheese potatoes, which was perfectly cooked and bursting with flavour - really fantastic! Vegetables other than potatoes are unusual in Finnish cooking and it's often said that Finns get their stamina from sausage, beer, and sauna!

We'd been warned when we arrived that, as it was Saturday, there would be a band playing later, and by the time desert arrived the band was setting up and the bar area was getting packed with Finns in search of beer. We had the chocolate cake with berries and caramelled sugar, and the selection of three mousses. Desert and cake isn't given the same priority in Finland as in many other countries, and isn't considered an essential part of a good meal, so it's often disappointing. This, unfortunately, was no different, so we paid the bill, dodged out before the band started, and went home to have a lovely bottle of wine, determined in future to find a good source of cake in the capital.

August 14, 2005

Spain Photos

The photographs from my time sailing in Spain this summer are now up on the site.

Spain 2005 photographs

August 16, 2005

Freedocumentaries.org

Freedocumentaries.org is exactly what it's name suggests - it's a good source of free documentaries to download in one place, saving you from scouring the internet for them. Many of them are related to the war in Iraq and American politics and include gems such as Fahrenheit 9/11 and a BBC documentary on the Bush family.

August 18, 2005

Destructive Testing

Although I'm normally very careful with my gear I seem to have gone through a phase of destructive testing over the last 24 hours. Last night as I was happily cycling along a summery, green lane, I hit a big bump, my phone flew out of my handlebar bag, bounced along the tarmac, and spun along the road before finally coming to a stop. Basically, exactly the same thing as happened to me three years ago and I still haven't learned. Other than suffering from a lot of scrapes and scratches, however, it stayed in one piece, continued working, and seems to have accepted the fact that I occasionally abuse it.

Now today as I was cycling into Helsinki one of my panniers came off as I was crossing a road. Fortunately, it fell off on a pedestrian island, saving it from being hit by a car and thrown into the air. Unfortunately, it had my powerbook in it. I wasn't too worried, however, as I assumed it was safe inside it's big, padded Crumpler bag, which was inside the pannier. When I took it out to check it though I discovered that the Crumpler padding doesn't quite cover the corners of the laptop and one of the corners had taken a big dent. I hesitantly opened it up, as it had been asleep through the whole ordeal, and looked at the screen. It remained dark, but as I increased the contrast it sprung back into life, and seems, thankfully, to be fine. With a little bit of metalworking I managed to squeeze most of the dent out on a wooden table in a cafe, which gained me a few strange looks, and the damage is now hardly noticeable. Overall I'm very impressed with it and can't think of any other laptop that would have survived the impact without a gaping, plastic hole or death.

I shall now attempt to put an end to this period of destructive testing before I get run over by a steamroller or fall out of a plane. But, thumbs up to Nokia and Apple, and thumbs down to Crumpler until they address the flap cover inside their laptop backpacks.

Update: It appears my Powerbook damage is nothing compared to the abuse that some have endured and still work...
PowerBook G4 vs. SUV

August 23, 2005

Huntin' and Killin'

southparkuncle12.jpgI was invited to a couple of days of duck hunting at the weekend in the east of Finland close to the Russian border. Although I used to do quite a bit of shooting in my youth it was mainly at clay pigeons and targets. I spent a bit of time last week considering how hunting and killing fitted in with my morals, and wondering if I really did have to shout, It's coming right for us before shooting. I needn't have bothered, however, as, only firing four times over the weekend, I didn't hit anything!

We were, nonetheless, staying at a lovely log cabin complete with sauna, next to a lake. At night, the only sounds were the noise of crickets as the full moon reflected off the calm water. The first evening involved lots of drinking and sauna-taking but getting up early the following morning, with only five hours sleep and nursing hangovers, was hard.

Beers were cracked open as we got into the boat at 09:00, then we stopped off on an island to drink with some other guys on the hunt for an hour or two before the shooting started. I managed to opt to be designated driver, avoiding mixing beer and guns, and lowering myself in respect amongst the Finns in doing so.

The following morning we had a sunrise shoot, getting up at 04:00 and heading off into the darkness. Somehow, though, the ducks won in the weekend war, and our boat shot a total of three, of which only one was retrieved. Luckily, we had sandwiches or we would have starved.

As South Park once put it...

Uncle Jimbo: Now boys, boys, I, I need to get serious for a minute. I want you to understand a few basic rules of hunting, since this is your first time. First, don't ever walk with your gun unless the safety's on. Second, don't shoot anything that looks human and third, never spill your beer in the bullet chamber.

August 25, 2005

On The Road Again

I cycled out of Espoo on the King's Road - a route that runs along the coast all the way to Turku. It was 1600 by the time I got away but I was determined to get as much distance done before sunset as I could.

I passed a run over snake as I cycled along a forest road, which gave me serious doubts about camping in Finland. I was making good progress, however, and as the sun began to lose it's heat I cycled into Ingå. By now I was deep in the heart of Swedish speaking Finland. The houses were distinctly Swedish looking, and many of the signs were only in Swedish.

I was lucky enough to find somewhere to camp in Fagervik, right next to a lake - about thirty centimetres away from it actually, but the mosquitoes began eating me alive as soon as I stopped. I stuck the four tent pegs in the ground and jumped inside where I watched fish jumping as slowly the colour drained out of the sunset and the sky turned dark blue.

I'd covered 70km so I slept pretty well.

August 26, 2005

Quest for Cake

l got up and washed in the lake before packing the tent away. The previous evening I'd passed a lovely looking cafe in an old building just down the road so I decided to detour back there for breakfast. Breakfast consisted of coffee and some homemade apple pie, and I sat outside in the sunshine and enjoyed it and planning the day's trip.

I cycled on through the Finnish countryside, which alternated between pine forests and tiny villages of painted wooden houses. By lunchtime I arrived in Tammisaari, a pretty waterside town of cobbled streets and piped Schlager music, giving the place the feel of a German old folk's home. In a bakery there, however, I found the best hindbærsnitte I'd had since Denmark, which in itself made the entire trip worthwhile. Cake and pastries seemed to be better now that I was in Swedish speaking lands.

I ploughed on northwards through yet more forests, missed a turning which cost me a twenty kilometre detour, and arrived in Matilda completely out of drinking water. The village shop was closed, and unable to find a tap or any signs of life, I carried on to the next village. Once again the only shop was closed so I asked at a house. I was told that their water wasn't good for drinking and I should try somewhere else. I knocked on another door but they wouldn't answer it. Finally, at the last house in the village I found a man sitting on his doorstep drinking beer and he gladly obliged to fill my water bottles.

By this time it was beginning to get dark and I needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night. As always when this happens you can never find anywhere. I cycled on in the dusk until I was almost at the suburbs of Salo, then, with no other choice, detoured off on a forest track and pitched my tent on the edge of a field. 130km cycled today, which I'm quite happy about (200km total).

August 29, 2005

Cycling the Kings Road

The forecast was heavy rain for the next day so I got up early, packed things away before it started, and cycled into Salo to find some breakfast. With few other options I ended up on the ground floor of a concrete block in the imaginatively named Cafe Rio, eating a plastic-wrap sandwich and drinking over-stewed coffee - a permanent feature of Finland's cafes.

One of the nice things about being on a bike is that you're travelling slowly enough to really see places but when they turn dire it doesn't take too long to get out. I cycled on to Paimio, which my cycle guide described as having, 'Finland's largest and most beautiful museum of electricity'. Somehow I managed to resist.

Back out in the countryside the sky was darkening with low, grey clouds. The rain started slowly and gently, but increased until it was falling out of the sky in sheets. Taking shelter under a bridge I waited for it to stop until it became apparent that it was on for the day so I pulled on my waterproofs and continued on towards Turku. The chain was grinding with mud and water was flowing up my sleeves, but, cold and wet, I had no choice but to continue. When I finally pulled my soaking load into Turku late in the afternoon it was a welcome sight, especially as it marked the end of the King's Road and the first leg of my trip. 63km cycled (263km total).

August 31, 2005

Wrath of God

I cycled out of Turku yesterday afternoon, heading out to the islands that extend westwards from Finland. I covered 54km before I made camp under a bridge looking out over the river on the island of Nagu, which sounds like a place straight out of Star Wars.

Shortly after I got up this morning some fishermen came down and seemed a bit surprised to find me camped there. I went on to the town of Nagu, which was quite pretty, and had some breakfast, then cycled across the island and caught a ferry to Korpo.

Here, I'd been planning to catch a ferry out to Kokar, the first of the Alund islands, so I was disappointed to find out that today was the only day of the week with only one ferry at 0630. There was a ferry going to Houtskari, however, so I decided to jump on that and go there for a few hours.

So I was standing taking a photo of the church in Houtskari, moved the bike a few metres forward, got my foot caught in the pedal, and, unable to put my foot down to stop it, myself and the loaded bike came crashing down. I got off with just scrapes and bruises but the camera, which I was inng, hit the ground pretty hard, resulting in a broken display. I looked up from the gravel to see a picture of God on the church notice board looking down at me, and, apparently, giving me a two fingered insult.