Hurtling Through the Sky in a Metal Tube

Assume it's 1527 London and Thomas Cromwell is telling Cardinal Woolsey that he can just get into a metal tube and fly to France without having to get seasick crossing the English Channel. 


Or riding up the Congo in the late 19th Century telling Joseph Conrad  he can return to Europe by air. 

I'm still amazed that we get into these metal tubes and fly 37,000 feet above the trees and rocks and waves.  There I was flying over the US West Coast, but lost in Cromwell and Woolsey's England as I read Wolf Hall, while the woman next to me was lost in the Congo reading King Leopold's Ghost. 

Earlier we got to the airport with time to spare, the long lines at security weren't there.  We walked through at 7:50am without anyone in front of us.  That gave us time to get some walking in before having to sit for 6 hours. We figure the distance from the end of Terminal B to the end of Terminal C in the Anchorage Airport is .14 miles.  So one lap is about .28 miles, and 3.5 laps would be close to a mile.  We got about 40 minutes walk in before going to our gate.  The geese in Terminal B were decorated in Christmas garb.

The sky was rosy above the Chugach as we passed over Prince William sound around 10am.

Seattle was socked in. 

But we got to see Pat McGuire's FOOD CHAIN:  Silver Salmon and Herring as we went from Terminal D to Terminal C to catch the plane on to LA.









It was great to be picked up by my mom and son.  The rain was gone and moon is shining bright.  We hooked up with my daughter and her friend for dinner.  Good times. 






Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it.  For the rest, enjoy the time off and I hope you have some family and/or friends nearby and you enjoy your time with them. 

Sunrise Fires - Winter Ice

J's workshop met today as well, but an hour later.  Yesterday it was clear at 8am when I dropped her off and today there were fog/clouds still hanging in.  One of the peaks is just barely visible above the fog (it's above the 'm' in 'am' in the Saturday picture and below that 'm' in the Sunday picture.)

I decided to go a little further and check out Campbell Airstrip. As I drove east, the sky got pink.  Once I turned up Campbell Airstrip Road, I could stop and shoot.

 

There is good reason to get up for sunrise, and in the winter, when it's after 9am, it's not that hard to do.  Below I'm walking on the bridge over Campbell Creek which was already frozen over.  But there was water running under the ice.  (See the video below.)

I really hadn't dressed to go out for a walk in the 10˚F (-12˚C) chill of east Anchorage, but I did go up the trail for ten minutes and took some pictures.  These ice crystals are on a small tree branch.  And before I got to the bridge I went down to the creek to watch and listen to the water flowing under the ice. 

Sunset, Sunrise, and Reefer Madness In Between

October and November are always the months when my exercise routines fall apart.  This year, coming back from LA in mid-October was even worse.  I got to run in LA most days, and it felt nippy back in Anchorage.  But I did keep biking and walking a lot.  But then we got ice and it was darker and I found lots of excuses.  So Friday, when it was just about 20˚F (-7˚C),  I went for a short run.  Our official sunset was at 4:10 pm.  This shot of the moon was taken at 4:55pm.  (Digital cameras are nice that way, you can see exactly when you took the picture. On the other hand, the moon's shadow is actually a spec of dust on the sensor.  It shows at certain openings but not at others.  On my Powershot, according to the repair shop, getting at the sensor is tricky and probably not worth it. I know, I can photoshop it out or hide it in the background.  But I wanted to make a point of it here.) 

Almost home, I came across our neighbor and his dog in the alley.

[The pictures are all from the curtain calls, not the show.]

We went to the Wild Berry Theater to see Reefer Madness.  From Wikipedia:   


"Reefer Madness (aka Tell Your Children) is a well known 1938 American exploitation film revolving around the tragic events that ensue when high school students are lured by pushers to try "marihuana": a hit and run accident, manslaughter, suicide, attempted rape, and descent into madness all ensue. The film was directed by Louis Gasnier and starred a cast composed of mostly unknown bit actors. It was originally financed by a church group and made under the title Tell Your Children.  

The film was intended to be shown to parents as a morality tale attempting to teach them about the dangers of cannabis use." 

Seventy two years later, it's just a big spoof.  This was done pretty low budget and compared to some of the really fine local theater I've seen lately, it was at the next level down.  There was a lot of young, buff, naked (and some older, not so buff), male flesh. (Nothing you wouldn't see at a swim meet and less than the TSA man sees, but there was enough to be remarkable - in the literal sense - especially from the front row.) The singers were all good, some of the dancers did beautiful leaps, and the audience was having a good time.  At $20 a head (online) it's live theater for not a lot more than a movie and the theater is small (not much over 100 though it looks bigger) so everyone has a good seat.  We ended up in the first row and it felt like we were part of the performance at times.  Actually, we were at one point when Jesus Christ handed out saltines.

On the way home we noticed patches of micro-fog around the bigger street lights. 

And this morning, when I drove J to her 8am workshop, a lot of the trees and shrubs were frosted.


But as we moved a little east, it cleared up and even though sunrise wasn't scheduled until 9:15am,  it was starting to lighten over the mountains to the east a little after 8am. 

We do have long twilight periods at 61˚ North, summer AND winter.

Rosy Fingered Dawn

Looking out the window about 9:30 this morning my thoughts went back to a college classroom where Professor Pasinetti* lectured us in Humanities at UCLA. He recited in whatever language was appropriate - Latin, Italian, Greek, English - and he recited it so beautifully, that I was transported, even when I couldn't understand a word.  (Most of the time he lectured in English)  It was in that class that I read some of the greatest books ever written, including the Odyssey.

And as I looked out at the fleecy pink clouds, the words "Rosy fingered dawn" immediately came to mind. So here's a bit of Homer - from Chapter IX - where he's plotting how to deal with Cyclops.

"When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, he again lit his fire, milked his goats and ewes, all quite rightly, and then let each have her own young one; as soon as he had got through with all his work, he clutched up two more of my men, and began eating them for his morning's meal. Presently, with the utmost ease, he rolled the stone away from the door and drove out his sheep, but he at once put it back again- as easily as though he were merely clapping the lid on to a quiver full of arrows. As soon as he had done so he shouted, and cried 'Shoo, shoo,' after his sheep to drive them on to the mountain; so I was left to scheme some way of taking my revenge and covering myself with glory.

"In the end I deemed it would be the best plan to do as follows. The Cyclops had a great club which was lying near one of the sheep pens; it was of green olive wood, and he had cut it intending to use it for a staff as soon as it should be dry. It was so huge that we could only compare it to the mast of a twenty-oared merchant vessel of large burden, and able to venture out into open sea. I went up to this club and cut off about six feet of it; I then gave this piece to the men and told them to fine it evenly off at one end, which they proceeded to do, and lastly I brought it to a point myself, charring the end in the fire to make it harder. When I had done this I hid it under dung, which was lying about all over the cave, and told the men to cast lots which of them should venture along with myself to lift it and bore it into the monster's eye while he was asleep. The lot fell upon the very four whom I should have chosen, and I myself made five. In the evening the wretch came back from shepherding, and drove his flocks into the cave- this time driving them all inside, and not leaving any in the yards; I suppose some fancy must have taken him, or a god must have prompted him to do so. As soon as he had put the stone back to its place against the door, he sat down, milked his ewes and his goats all quite rightly, and then let each have her own young one; when he had got through with all this work, he gripped up two more of my men, and made his supper off them. So I went up to him with an ivy-wood bowl of black wine in my hands:

"'Look here, Cyclops,' said I, you have been eating a great deal of man's flesh, so take this and drink some wine, that you may see what kind of liquor we had on board my ship. I was bringing it to you as a drink-offering, in the hope that you would take compassion upon me and further me on my way home, whereas all you do is to go on ramping and raving most intolerably. You ought to be ashamed yourself; how can you expect people to come see you any more if you treat them in this way?'

You can read it all at classics.mit.  I don't have any cyclops to battle today, but I do have some things to do. 

*This is for college students.  I googled Prof. Pasinetti to make sure I spelled his name right and found a whole Wikipedia page on him.  I really had no idea (until now) who he was when I was his student - I was a freshman.  I knew he was a fantastic lecturer, but I had no idea about who he was beyond that lecture hall.  So, check out your professors.  Know who they are.  And go talk to them about their lives and yours.  Get the most out of your education.