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| Glacier Bay, Margerie Glacier |
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| Glacier Bay, Margerie Glacier |
The spire of ice in the left picture leans precariously, on
the verge of something scary. Having
never fallen, it has no plan and no means to make a plan. Its story, told in the right picture, comes from
forces thrust upon it. Like a poem, its
course is directed outside itself, having meaning that depends on observers. My view of its falling is different from yours
and from its. We could say that its
story is all “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Yet, as I watch it fall, hear its thunder, and feel its waves from the deck of a ship, it signifies a
joining of imagination, physics and idea. A forgotten dream returns, and will not be easily
forgotten again.
It’s like those Asian pioneers who, finding the sea level
rising as the ice melted some ten thousand years ago, trudged eastward from Siberia
to North America on what is now ocean. They
knew nothing about the country beyond, yet they were driven from a homeland
that had become intolerable. Or maybe
they just wanted adventure. Syrians
today move away from their home for the former reason, I do it for the latter.
These explorations, that I so excitedly anticipate, usually bring
unwitting passion, different from anything expected. Some of us are curious and some inventive;
most of us are both. We fit together
with our differences and stimulate one another, especially when freed from
editors who select between us and press us apart.
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| My sister on the right and my Ventura friend with whom I often stay on the left |
But the cruise in July was a different kind of adventure. My sister’s son, who works for the cruise line, put together a group at low cost. I traveled with friends and family, which had its own inspiration and some unexpected rewards.
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| Deck 15 |
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| Our Cabin |
Our cabin on the ship provided more comfort than camping in the woods, and the pool on Deck 15 with its hot tub and views of snowy mountains inspired a kind of unnatural blending of wilderness and plush comfort which is hard to write about.
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| Mt. Cooper in Glacier Bay from Deck 15 |
As we sailed north, the air got colder and rain often fell. I was happy to find fewer people on deck, but it came with a greater longing for silence and a stiff walk uphill.
The food was good and elegantly presented, but I can’t say that it was better than freeze-dried packages from REI cooked over a tiny gas stove, 20 miles from any restaurant.
Stay tuned for “Love Life of Salmon”, “Klondike
Goldrush”, (with which I am personally attached), and “The Grouse Grind”,
before we venture to Glacier National Park.
Please leave a comment below, and click on any picture to enlarge it.
Please leave a comment below, and click on any picture to enlarge it.
Stunning photos and lyrical, potent language in your unique traveling voice, even before travel. When Richard Gilbert mentions "poetry as resistance" you bring this alive, as you are for and against in strong ways. For wilderness, for the uphill climb. And I think poetry is one way of embodying this, and also physical action. Leaving the ordinary--opens mind heart experience to the extraordinary. Beautiful also to see your sister and friend, who appreciate you I am sure even in your black sheepishness.
ReplyDeleteunheard avalanche
the thunder implied
by her fall
who in this forest of words
will have the last
Such an evocative, multi-layered tanka, i love this one.
Deleteand I was just about to ask sharon where her falling ice spire poem was and then I come across your tanka
Yes, Kathabela, leaving the ordinary (home) opens paths to extraordinary thought. And leaving ordinary certainties opens closed doors to art and invention. I'd rather be wrong than to please.
ReplyDeleteNice tanka in its implication that she (I) can fall like a chunk of ice and become a new thing, an iceberg, then an absorbed thing, part of the old, the ocean.
Sharon! You are going to tell us that delectable desert is underpar when compared to a bag of nuts or an energy bar on the road? I am not convinced! :) The cabin looks soooo luxurious. I'll be going to Alaska on a cruise in 2018. Would you recommend this line. Okay more soon fellow traveler. xx
ReplyDeleteNot exactly, Lois, I said that freeze-dried food cooked in the woods after 20 miles of carrying it, along with my backpacking gear, in a wilderness makeshift camp tastes as good as a gourmet dinner on a cruise ship. I do recommend Princess Cruise Line for the inside passage sailing to or from Alaska.
Deletekathabela--
ReplyDeleteSuch an evocative, multi-layered tanka, i love this one.
and I was just about to ask sharon where her falling ice spire poem was and then I come across your tanka!
Thank you dear Susan and Sharon, you are both so encouraging to me, and inspiring to all of us!
DeleteAnd you are inspiring to me in your comment under "Klondike Goldrush" for example.
Delete"having meaning that depends on observers" ... ain't that the truth in many places?
ReplyDeleteYes Junnie, as in our poems, this ice reacts to outside forces with meaning that depends on observers. Thanks for your comments.
DeleteI once again rambled on perhaps hitting the enter key too close to ‘delete’ and that which I ascribed disappeared into the internet abyss. One wonders what it was that was pouring out from the avalanche of words that had collected in my mind ~ words I allowed to spill out from my fingers dancing ‘cross the keyboard as I glanced upward in a detached space, allowing random thoughts to tumble forth. And then, they vanished into places unobserved by anyone, including me and hence there is no ‘meaning’ to them save for the attention I placed upon them in the moment of my glancing upward. Thus, for whatever words are worth to save and savor. I fashioned this comment first in WORD so it could not escape. Now that this has been observed, is there a 'meaning' to assign to it? Starshine's Sillynesses shall sleep now.
DeleteYou do better, Junnie, than most of my readers in handling the comment process on Blogger. Many have told me they simply can't comment here. Try as I do to explain what works for me, they cannot leave a comment. I cannot explain why they cannot, any more than you can explain how your comment went into the internet abyss. Your solution though, is good. Type in a word processor and copy/paste it here.
DeleteThe meaning is this: Programmers at Blogger and most other websites are so busy making their sites look fancy, that they overlook simple mistakes in their code. They are like God, in that we cannot change them, and have to do things their way.