End of the Northern Era
Cries of Furies
Nonfiction, Travel, Canada, Western Canada, Adventure & Literary Travel, Biography & Memoir
| Author: | Dawn Kostelnik | ISBN: | 9781927812624 |
| Publisher: | Kobo | Publication: | May 10, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Dawn Kostelnik |
| ISBN: | 9781927812624 |
| Publisher: | Kobo |
| Publication: | May 10, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
This is the end my friend. After hurricane lashings, cold wet nights,(the toothpaste was frozen some mornings) and dock disputes, spring has finally beaten up old man winter.
The Furies still try to push their way around the docks and stir up shorelines but are losing much of their ability to huff and puff and blow the boats around. The sun is shining and the dock dudes are crawling out of their bachelor bunks earlier in the day. They look like wilted dandelions that need water and sun. By coffee break they are showing their faces to the sun and seem to be thinking about making a contribution to this day and the world around them. By 10:30 the smell of dead skunk in the middle of the road drifts down the docks and one by one the spaced out dudes crawl back into their bunks, not to be seen till the morrow.
The Captain has made a new set of stairs for access to the flying bridge. I have applied four coats of a two-part epoxy to these works of wonder. There is beauty in simple things; wooden steps built by a welder are a thing of beauty. We are very close to leaving these winter moorings. The old steps were a hazard and access to the flying bridge was becoming dangerous, almost the last reason to put off crossing Johnston Straight to our new home.
This is the end my friend. After hurricane lashings, cold wet nights,(the toothpaste was frozen some mornings) and dock disputes, spring has finally beaten up old man winter.
The Furies still try to push their way around the docks and stir up shorelines but are losing much of their ability to huff and puff and blow the boats around. The sun is shining and the dock dudes are crawling out of their bachelor bunks earlier in the day. They look like wilted dandelions that need water and sun. By coffee break they are showing their faces to the sun and seem to be thinking about making a contribution to this day and the world around them. By 10:30 the smell of dead skunk in the middle of the road drifts down the docks and one by one the spaced out dudes crawl back into their bunks, not to be seen till the morrow.
The Captain has made a new set of stairs for access to the flying bridge. I have applied four coats of a two-part epoxy to these works of wonder. There is beauty in simple things; wooden steps built by a welder are a thing of beauty. We are very close to leaving these winter moorings. The old steps were a hazard and access to the flying bridge was becoming dangerous, almost the last reason to put off crossing Johnston Straight to our new home.
