Dingle, Ireland

Current Location: Dingle, Ireland

Current Coordinates: 52°′″N 10°′″W

Next Stop: Cork, Ireland

Listening: "Shine," by David Gray (discman, ipod soaked)

Reading: Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945 by Tony Judt

Last night after dinner while Mike and I were comparing our childhood summers we discovered that even though separated by approximately forty years, many of our experiences were the same if not exactly alike. Similarities included constant bike riding, no girls clubs, war games, and an obsession with building forts. Most notably, we agreed that as children our summers seemed to last forever, as if the space between Memorial day and Labor day was an eternity eclipsed only by the time spent waiting for the next summer to roll around. Childhood in suburban America before XBOX and ipods was an idyllic and formative experience.

This summer has been the first one since my preteen years that has progressed at a similarly pregnant pace, perhaps because of its familiarly adventerous spirit as manifested by open sees, endless days (literally, especially in Norway), and an overwhelming sense of freedom and invincibility.

July has been a particularly long month. In fact, much more has happened during the month of July worth writing about as compared to June when we spent most of our time in Norweigan ports (hence all of the pedantic and editorial stuff). But now that my role has shifted from cultural observer to field reporter, I feel as though I'm not keeping up my end of the bargain. In large part this is not my fault--internet is much less available along the wild western coasts of Scotland and Ireland. I went into one small pub in Scotland in a very small town (one payphone) and asked if they had "wi-fi internet access." The publican had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. That, coupled with the inferiority of my laptop and the hapless backpack in the bog incident at Tory Island has made posting on Paulgrimage challenging and stressful.

But, here I am. Enough excuses and apologies. I'm now going to do my best to recap the month of July before we're into August.

My first entry of this month was from Lerwick, Shetland islands. Since Lerwick we've sailed over 700 miles from...

Scotland:

Lerwick-->Stromness, Orkney Islands (July 4th)-->Stornoway, Isle of Lewis--> Isle of Skye (hatch incident), to Isle of Mull (where we sat anchored for 7 days), down into

Ireland:

Tory Island--> Inishbofin-->Kilronan, Aran Islands--> and finally to Dingle where we are now.

I covered most of what happened in Scotland in the posts from Stornoway and Mull. Highlights and lowlights here include the broken hatch incident and the seven day stint at Ross of Mull and the correlating pub time and overnight stay at the Argyll Arms Hotel. Really, those days passed by so slowly. The visit to Iona (where St. Colomba brought Christianity to the Scots in 536 AD) was worthwile and afforded me many nice shots of the Benedictine Abbey (dates back to the 9th century) that still operates there. Evidence of Viking raiding parties and their eventual absorption into the local populations and cultures is present at each port stop from Lerwick through Isle of Mull and really, down into where we are now. I have a new found respect and appreciation for the impact that viking culture had on the course of western civilization. I definitely was not given the full story on that in grade school. In fact, my 6th grade history teacher told me never to forget the date 1066-- the date of the Norman conquest. I never really stopped and thought about what the name Norman really meant literally. Nor-Men means "men from the north," or "north- men," all reffering to the race of sailors, plunders, and warriors who originally sailed down from Scandanavia into the British isles. These were the Vikings, and I want to be one when I grow up.

from Tory Island

I briefly described Tory Island in my most recent post from Inishbofin. Tory is notable because it is the most isolated habited island in Ireland and also of course because of the amazing dog and dolphin synchronizing swim team routine that takes place in the harbor. I've got some video on my digital camera of this and I will put it up on youtube as soon as I get back. We spent most of our time in Tory fixing, cleaning, all the while waiting for favorable winds to blow us further south down to Inishbofin.

This is one of the pictures that cost me my ipod. (above)

Dog and dolphin

Inishbofin is famous because it boasts one of the world's most protected natural harbors and because of the Cromwellian fort that overlooks the town. Oliver Cromwell made a point to fortify and protect Ireland during the interregnum, fearing that the Vatican and the Spanish would intervene on behalf of the once entirely Catholic nation. Today, Inishbofin is a popular vacation destination. There is a very swanky hotel here that has a spa, a very posh (and overpriced) restaurant, and a spacious bar populated on the evening we were there by singles in their mid-forties. Not my crowd. By the way, posh was originally a nautical term, meaning "port out, starboard home," which was typically the most desirable cabin location on passenger ships travelling to and from the British colonies in the far east. Free etymology lesson, no charge.

We left Inishbofin for the Aran Islands on Saturday morning at 5am. The passage was smooth and the scenery was amazing. Scotland was nice, the western coast of Ireland during summertime is one of the most beatiful places that I've ever seen, even taking into account the Greek Isles, which is where I was one year ago today.

The Aran Isles is a popular vacation spot for people my age. The most common mode of transportation on the island is a bike, which can be rented at a cost of 10 euro for the whole day. The town is located right near the harbor with bars, internet cafes, a few hotels, one large beach, and even some palm trees (caused by the Gulf Stream). This was the first time on this trip that it really felt like summer outside. I was sweating, and even managed to get some much needed sun on my chest. I'd like to have some color when I get back! I rented a bike and hoofed it up to Dun Aengus, one of several prehistoric forts on the Aran Islands. Here I took pictures and video of sheer cliffs that drop off into the Atlantic. Also, when looking out beyond these cliffs, it was powerful to know that I was standing on the last edge of land between Ireland and the other side of the Atlantic.

We sailed away from Aran down into Dingle on Sunday evening at 6pm. On the way down I caught the most amazing sunset-- I must have taken 50 pictures of it. Absoultely spectacular colors! I also caught several pictures of dolphins jumping in mid-air with the sunset in the backdrop. I might even be able to make some money off of these shots--the best pictures that I have ever taken.

So there you have it. That's my month of July in retrospect. I'm very glad to be here in Dingle now, the last stop before Cork. We sail for Cork tomorrow morning. Cork is unfortunately where Jack is getting off the boat. I am truly sad to see him go, as I am doubtful that I will ever see him again. Spending time with Mr. Nye over the past two months has been an honor. He is a good man--kind, patient, quick-witted with a sharp sense of humor. In essence, he is exactly what I want to be when I'm his age. A true gentleman.

Summer rolls on. Believe it or not, there are only three weeks left before I get off of the ship and head back to the states for a few weeks before heading off on my next adventure. This has been most demanding experience of my life both physically and psychologically, and I'm proud to say that I'm fully adjusted to life at sea. I am completely comfortable being uncomfortable, prepared for things to go bad and pleasantly surprised when they go right. This, like those of my preteen years, has been an endless summer--a formative and life changing experience that I'm sure I'll spend the rest of my life measuring myself against.

--Paul

The sea - this truth must be confessed - has no generosity. No display of manly qualities - courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness - has ever been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power. The ocean has the conscienceless temper of a savage autocrat spoiled by much adulation. He cannot brook the slightest appearance of defiance, and has remained the irreconcilable enemy of ships and men ever since ships and men had the unheard of audacity to go afloat together in the face of his frown."

from Mirror of the Sea, by Joseph Conrad

Inishbofin, Ireland

Current Location: Inishbofin, Ireland
Current Coordinates: 53° 37' N 10° 12' 32 W
Next Stop: Aran Islands, Ireland
Listening: Crossroads, by Robert Johnson, as performed by Phish 12/29/97
Reading: Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945, by Tony Judt

Gitana arrived at Inishbofin Harbor at 9:00 am Friday, July 25th after a 1.5 day sail from Tory Island Ireland. We will only be here overnight as we will be heading south to the Aran Isles tomorrow on our way to Cork. It appears that we will arrive in Cork on Thursday of next week if the weather unfolds as forecasted. I'm very eager to get to Cork!

Tory Island is the smallest, most isolated, habited island in Ireland. We had planned to be there only one day but ended up spending three there because of the same SW winds that have bedeviled us since we left Bodo a month and a half ago. The island has its own king who personally greets each person off of each ship that enters the harbor. Also of note were synchronized swimming partners "Dougie" the dolphin and "Ben" the dog--a yellow lab. Every time Ben sees the dolphin swimming (very conspicuouosly) in the harbor he high tails it to the dock and leaps in and begins to swim around with his fishy friend. It was outrageous, and luckily, I recorded it with my digital camera. I'll put it up on my next post when I get to Cork.

We spent our time in Tory fixing, cleaning, scrubbing, and...well yeh, that's pretty much what we did the whole time, minus a few trips to the pub for a pint. I worked my ass off in Tory Island! I did however manage to get away from the boat for a few moments to take some really amazing photos--one of which cost me my ipod. I was trying to capture the most amazing sunset by walking along an old stone wall that stretched out across a field that towered above sheer cliffs that gave the most amazing panoramic views of the mainland and the sea. Unfortunately, I lost my footing and came hurling down to the ground landing in a bog on my back--completely soaking my backpack and all the contents inside of it. This ruined my ipod (a real bummer--nothing to listen to during my 4 hour watches) and also the power supply cable to my laptop (I am now typing from a computer at an internet cafe that is not mine). I did, luckily (and perhaps most significantly) manage to save my digital camera from submersion, holding it up high in the air as I fell to the ground. I was soaked. I'll find a way to keep posting at cafes like this one during the remaining 3 weeks of the trip, so please do stay tuned.

The passage from Tory Island to Inishbofin was a struggle . Our course required us to sail past some very treacherous rocks as we sailed across Donegal bay towards Inishbofin. Unfortunately, we reached this point during Jack's watch. As I mentioned before, Jack has a problem with numbers, which is a REAL problem when you're trying to steer a very expensive vessel through tight channels. Jack kept falling off course, I kept trying to help him stay on but it became a comedy of errors as it got dark, the winds shifted, and the sails began to luff all at the same time. Skipper was angrier than I have seen him yet. In the midst of another eruption he paused, holding back his fury for one wee moment to tell me that "this is exactly the kind of scenario that {I} need to be in to learn how to be a good sailor." He's right.

Jack gets off in Cork and Mike's nephew Zack gets on. Mike, Zach, and I will then sail from Cork south all the way across Bay of Biscay to La Coruna, Spain. This is 485 miles and will be the longest passage that I've done yet. I'm looking forward to that. I will then most likely be getting off the boat in Portugal (Lisbon) where I'll have to hop on a plane to Rome to connect with my return flight back to the States on August 17.

There's so much more going on that I'm missing but I have to return to the dock and put diesel fuel into the tank. Hooray. A much more in depth post as soon as possible, perhaps Monday or Tuesday. I've gotten a lot out keeping this blog I'll continue to work hard on it with the limited free time that I have.

Stay Tuned!

Ross Of Mull, Isle of Mull, Scotland

Note: This post was updated on Thursday, July 17th

Current Location: Ross of Mull, Isle of Mull, Scotland
Current Coordinates: 56°′N 6°′W
Next Stop: Tory Island, Ireland
Listening:

1)"Everybody Wants to Rule the World," by Tears for Fears as performed by The Bad Plus

2) "Iambic 9 Poetry," by Squarepusher

3) "Sunny's Song," by the Benevento/ Russo Duo

Reading: The Israel Lobby, by John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt

We arrived at Stornoway, Isle of Lewis from Stromness early Sunday morning, July 6th. This was probably the nicest port we've been in since Alesund--lots of shops, pubs, showering facilities, etc. It was here that we encountered another American boat for the first time since Bodo. We tied up along Indian Summer, sailed by Jerry and Terry Solom, father and son, respectively. These guys were great. They were knowledgeable about the area as they had been there for nearly a month when we had arrived preparing their boat for a transatlantic passage from Scotland to Maine. They expected that their passage would take about 5 or 6 weeks so I suspect that they are now about a quarter of the way across now. Godspeed, Gentlemen!







The castle above was the home of James Matheson, a British trader who played an instrumental role in starting the Opium Wars. Matheson used his outrageous profits from the opium trade to buy the whole of Isle of Lewis which is where he chose to build Lews Castle. The island and the castle are now owned by the local council.



Gitana left Stornoway on Wednesday morning at 3:30 am (July 9) and sailed south to Dunvagen, Isle of Skye. The passage was only about fifty miles and we had reasonably good weather so we pulled into Dunvagen about 4pm. Sailing was the easy part of this day--the rest of it was very rough.

I was having trouble keeping my eyes open during my watch so I went beneath to catch a cup of coffee. I heard a strange noise coming from above and so I put my coffee down and decided to have a look. I failed to realize/remember that I'd only closed the hatch halfway when I went down and so with my reascent I rammed my head with full force into the hatch which ripped the cover board off of it. After I came too (moment of dizziness and confusion) I realized what I had done and I had the worst feeling of shear panic and doom as I imagined Skipper's reaction to my carelessness. Really, I thought he was going to kill me, and I kept repeating that to myself. The worst part is that the noise didn't wake him up from his nap--I had to sit there in the cockpit behind the helm staring at the mangled wood as I envisioned being thrown overboard or something worse. Somewhat to my relief, Skipper popped his head up about 10 minutes later just to check on things. Before pointing out what I had done I admitted that I made a mistake and that I was willing to pay for the damages and do whatever necessary to fix the problem. He said, "enough already, what'd you break?" He seemed actually relieved when I told him what it was--there are so many other more expensive and important mechanisms on that boat that can easily be damaged that would really slow our progress.

But things got worse in Dunvagen. Up to this point, we've been lucky enough to find suitable piers to tie up against, eliminating the need for our anchor. But places as far south and as remote as Isle of Skye and Isle of Mull (where we are now) do not have sophisticated marinas--you have to anchor. So, I had my first anchoring drill at 4pm, July 10 upon entering the Loch at Dunvagen. It did not go well. When explaining the anchoring process Skipper's tone was more hurried and frustrated than it was calm and instructive--perhaps because of the broken hatch incident from earlier in the day. There I was, up at the bow with a $600 anchor in my hands trying to understand Skipper's orders coming from the cockpit, shouted over the engine and into the wind as the boat bobbled back and forth in the lee of the small island we were setting up behind. We finally got the anchor set, but not before I'd been thoroughly yelled at like a marine recruit on his first day at Parris Island. It was bad, and it got worse over the next couple of days.



For the next day or so Skipper erupted into a tirade every five or ten minutes over things like misplaced items on the boat or the use of precious paper towels (they are hard to find here) or unidentified ziploc bags left in the galley--"what's supposed to go in this!?" At first I'd flinch and tense up waiting for the next barrage since most of these criticisms were directed at me. But eventually I got used to them and could even see them coming well in advance..

"oh shit, Jack put the fenders out in the wrong place, I was supposed to do that, but I haven't got to it yet because I'm still trying to finish up task X which can't be done before I finish task Y which if not done carefully and thoroughly will result in task Z which Skipper explicitly expressed he does not want to have to do because it will F*@* everything up"

or..

"someone left the water pressure on at the control panel..I wonder if I can click it off without him hearing the noise, which would reveal the mistake..."


or..

"the seacock in the head that restricts water from sinking the boat was left down...."

My mind races a million miles a minute trying to anticipate what's going to create the next problem, the next eruption, the next barrage of criticisms. I try and balance doing what is expected of me and taking cautious initiative, ala, "what made you think that was a good idea?" Again, I don't intend to demonize Skipper or make him sound unreasonable. I do, however want to make my account as verisimilar as possible. Mike has a lifetime of experience at sea and he knows exactly what needs to be done (and what cannot be done) in order to safely get the boat where it is heading. It is absolutely an honor and a privelege to sail with Michael Johnson. He's told me in calmer moments not to take what happens at sea too seriously, but you can only be yelled at for so long before you start to internalize what's being said. Humility. Endurance. Perseverance.




We left Dunvagen on Thursday morning July 10 and headed south for Isle of Mull, which is where we are now. The hotel is awesome, a real haven, a breath of fresh air with new faces and a positive vibe that was much needed after the previous two or three days of "badness." I decided to spend a night in the hotel to get a hot meal, take a shower, and sleep on a stable surface. This proved to be a good move. After the bar closed I enjoyed pints with the publicans (bar managers) who were still lingering around. I also encountered a drunk Irish woman named "Theresa" who initially called me an "American wanker." By the end of the evening I managed to endear myself to Theresa, not having engaged her but instead choosing to type down her many outlandish statments, sketching out a character who is most certainly fodder for future fiction. I wish I could delve more into her character here, but I promise that I won't go nearly as deep as I did last post. No abstractions, all descriptive, informative, no blabbering. Oh yeh--one thing to mention. Theresa was particularly put off by my intent to study the EU--an institution whose existence "{tramples} on the graves of all of the men who fought for Irish independence." It was healthy for me to hear this as most of what I've read in the academic books I've read about EU politics this far has given me the impression that the European Union is a widely favored (if not popular) body amongst Europeans. This tells of the real disconnect between the people and the politicians. Still, for the record, I believe that the EU is a great plan, the next logical step for the spread and maintenance of democracy in the west.




Mike and I went to Iona yesterday to see the abbey. Iona is the site where St. Colombo brought Christianity to Scotland from Ireland in the year 563. He established a small monastery there housed in thatch roofed buildings and the like. Later the Benedictines built the Abbey which still stands today. It is an ecumenical church now that houses a retreat facility used by pilgrims from across the world. A real charm to the place. There is also a small nunnery that was established by the sister of the Benedictine monk who ran the monastery. It is located a discreet distance from the monastery in a smal meadow that nears the shore. Very nice place. Pictures below.

On our progress: Skipper says that we "have been be-deviled by bad weather." According to our original itenerary, we were supposed to be in Cork, Ireland on June 26. We are still about 400 miles north of Cork. Really, there is nothing to blame here except the weather--which nothing can be done about. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the pattern so far has been to arrive at a port and stay there for 4 or 5 days waiting on favorable winds to blow us to our next spot further south. This means that I'm spending more money than I wanted to and seeing fewer countries than I had expected. However, I still wouldn't trade this experience for anything. What I have learned so far about myself, life, discipline, and perseverance (amongst other things) has been invaluable. For instance, if I ever encounter a pushy boss in the future, it will be nothing compared to having lived with a drill seargeant in a small cabin the size of a glorified port- o -john. There are so many other things that come to mind but I'm limited by time here.


So at this point I'm thinking that I'll make it to Gibraltar before August 17th, which is when I'm due back in the States. It may also be that I'm back a bit early, which wouldn't be bad considering the number of people that I want to spend good time with before I head off to school in Italy. I hope to see all of you!

Very strong SW winds kept us aboard Gitana all day long yesterday. Our dinghy is in dire need of repair and skipper didn't want to risk it breaking to pieces as we tried to row ashore. There's nothing worse than a broken dinghy. Made the most of it by reading, cooking beans and rice and drinking some red wine.

We sail for Tory Island, Ireland tomorrow afternoon if all goes as planned. From what we hear the island has its own king who has only 190 subjects as Tory is scarcely populated. I'm hoping that there is somewhere for me to connect so that I can post. If not, I'll update as soon as I can. In the meantime, thanks so much for following my travels and stay tuned--there's much more Paulgrimage to come.

L'chaim. --Paul

pinecones.



"Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men’s reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of “the rat race” is not yet final."


--Hunter Stockton Thompson, from The Great Shark Hunt, pt. 3 (1979)

(July 18th, 1937- February 20th, 2005)



Happy Birthday Gonzo.

Oops!

Hello all. Somehow my most recent entry (7-7--8) got placed behind an old one. Please click on this link to see my newest post. Thanks!

--Paul

Stromness, Scotland

Current Location: Stromness, Orkney Islands, Scotland
Current Coordinates: 58°′N 3°′W
Next Stop: Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, Scotland
Listening: Jimi Hendrix, The Star Spangled Banner, Woodstock, 1969
Above Photo: Entrance to Scapa Flow, Orkney Islands

Skipper At the Helm

Gitana left Lerwick, Shetland Islands Thursday morning at 0600 for Stromness, Orkney Islands. The passage took 24 hours and covered 120 nautical miles. Very calm seas, thanks to yet another high pressure system to our northwest. Arrived in Stromness at 0645 Friday morning.

Happy Fourth of July to all. Now that I've shown my political colors I might as well tell you of the first thing someone asked me as I stepped on terra firma in the Orkneys this morning. Another elderly man (I keep running into these characters) watched us tie up to the floating dock, taking notice of the American flag that flies at Gitana's stern. He looked at me, said "welcome," and then asked me if I {was} "ready to celebrate my independence from George Bush--Jujj Boosh." A classic Scotsman. I laughed. In an effort to try and reestablish some political benignness on Paulgrimage, I'll keep my response to myself.



Stromness is just near Scappa Flow--one of the great natural harbors of the world. It was used as a stopping point by the Hudson Bay company during the 18th century and later became famous for its roles in WWI and WWII. During the Second world war the Royal Navy made the perilous mistake of assuming that German uboats a) wouldnt' come as far north as the Orkneys on an offensive and b) wouldn't be able to bypass the sunken ships at the harbor's south entrance and make an attack and c) wouldn't be able to combat the strong currents that ebb and flow from the harbor during tide changes. However, a German uboat skippered by Gunther Prien came into this harbor in 1939 and sank British Destroyer killing Royal Oak killing 800 on board.





Also of note--Jack spent time here when he was 18 years old as a sailor in the Royal Navy. He teared up as we entered the harbor, clearly recognizing the place and its awesome scenery. He told me shortly after we tied up that he never would have imaged that he'd live long enough to be back here and that he couldn't believe the circumstances surrounding his second visit. The last time Jack was in Scapa Flow was in October of 1942.

Because I am abroad I feel an even stronger sense of patriotism this 4th of July. In many ways, I see this sailing trip is an expression of my own patriotism. Ironically, the farther away I travel the more profoundly I come to understand what is unique and important about America--most relavant for me are the passion for adventure and a desire to experience the unkown. We live in the best country in the world!

Happy Fourth of July! God Bless America!

--Paul

"I look forward to a future in which our country will match its military strength with our moral restraint, its wealth with our wisdom, its power with our purpose. "

- President John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Credo Quia Absurdum Est; One Pilgrim's Profession of Faith

Current Location: Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, Scotland
Current Coordinates: 58°12′ N 06°19′ W
Next Stop: Isle of Mull, Scotland
Listening: "After the Goldrush," by Neil Young, 1970, performed 1989

If you look up the word "pilgrimage" in the Merriam-Webster dictionary you'll find this definition: "a journey of a pilgrim; especially one to a shrine or to a sacred place." When we talk about pilgrimage in the Christian tradition we're often referring to a trip to the Holy Land to walk in the footsteps of Jesus Christ or of a 300 mile trek along "El Camino de Santiago" which stretches from southern France to Northern Spain to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela where the remains of St. James are believed to be buried. The Holy Land is also the focal point for pilgrimage in the Jewish tradition. Many Christian pilgrims also journey to the Vatican City to see the tomb of St. Peter, the first Bishop of Rome at St. Peter's Basilica. In Islam, pilgrimage refers to an obligatory ten day journey to Mecca in accordance with the "steps of Hajj."

In all three traditions, the reasons why and the means by which faithful people make pilgrimages are similar. We embark on spiritual journeys in search for more profound and meaningful relationships with God (however we understand Him/Her to exist). Self-sacrifice and stoicism are common to all pilgrimages. Individual steps along the way become outward manifestations of our faith and of our willingness to endure suffering to achieve spiritual growth and holiness. Further, the purpose and intentionality of steps is shared by all faiths. The premise here is that the totality of these individual steps will result in a superior understanding of God, His will, and of our purpose here on earth. We are all seeking this kind of enlightenment whether or not we are aware of it. But I believe that something more important must be absorbed before we map out our pilgrimages.

Steps have been an important part of my Pilgrimage thus far both literally and figuratively. Those of you who read "The Floggings will Continue until The Morale Improves" know of the many tasks and chores I completed in Bodo that were all aimed at getting the boat in the water. In port, I'm given a list of chores that I must complete before I'm allowed to delve into abstraction (like I am now) at the local wi-fi pub or internet cafe. But I've also been going through many spiritual steps on Paulgrimage trying to achieve a deeper faith and greater moral clarity. Those of you who read "Abba-Solution" are aware of my attempts to give and receive forgiveness for all transgressions. But there is also a lot going on beneath the surface, not the least of which is trying to discern God's purpose for me during my time here on earth. During the long and frequently cold hours I spend on watch when Gitana is at sea I'm always looking for revelation on the horizon, celestial signs or messages to point me in the right direction, providential "aha" moments where everything "clicks." In essence, I'm trying to reconcile the metaphysical concept of God in my mind with His presence in the physical world that surrounds me. But the process is becoming mechanical, contrived, and I'm beginning to think that pilgrimage steps are merely means leading me to an intangible and abstract end.

Most pilgrims probably wouldn't readily admit it, but they've likely experienced these pilgrimage blues. The steps, the rules, and the process become overwhelming and exhausting. We lose sight of what we're searching for, or we're disappointed by what we are finding or by what we are not finding. Many pilgrims become afraid of what they are finding. The obsession with faithful steps towards God has claimed many casualties and has resulted in biblical drama galore. Delve a bit deeper in abstraction with me for just one moment. I promise, we'll return to the surface.

There is similarity in the pilgrim's desire to achieve enlightenment by means of the faithful steps of pilgrimage and St. Anselm's Ontological Argument for the Existence of God. Anselm lived a thousand years ago and became Archbishop of Canterbury, England. He was famous for his motto "Credo ut intelligam," or "I believe in order to think" and for his argument to prove the existence of God. I've given this argument quite a bit of thought during my hours alone behind the helm of Gitana and have only recently been able to wrap my mind around it.

Anselm argued:

1) God is defined as the being in which none greater is possible.
2) It is true that the notion of God exists in the understanding (your mind.)
3) And that God may exist in reality (God is a possible being.)
4) If God only exists in the mind, and may have existed, then God might have been greater than He is.
5) Then, God might have been greater than He is (if He existed in reality.)
6) Therefore, God is a being which a greater is possible.
7) This is not possible, for God is a being in which a greater is impossible.
8) Therefore God exists in reality as well as the mind.

Confused? Orverwhelmed? Your delirium is similar to what pilgrims experience as they try and connect the significance of individual steps made on their spiritual journeys towards a closer understanding of and relationship with God. An epistomoligist, Anselm believed that the mind itself was capable of making a pilgrimage and that because all knowledge came from God, the aquisition of it would bridge the gap between our metaphysical understanding of Him and His physical presence here on earth. Like Anselm, all pilgrims struggle to piece together their own theologies and understandings of divinity. The pilgrimage is the exact physical expression of this spiritual process.

Back to the surface, I mentioned earlier that there was something crucial that we must be able to accept before we map out our pilgrimages. Before we make our first step and before we delve into the depths of our souls looking for God's imprint, we must first be willing to believe in the absurd. "Credo Quia Absurdum est" is a Latin phrase of uncertain origin that literally means "I believe it because it is absurd." It is not neccesarily an opposing viewpoint of Anselm's "Credo ut intelligam," but it does point out an important difference in the agency of the faithful. The premise of Anselm's argument is similar to the motivation of pilgrims--the notion that we can reach God by bridging the gap between our metaphysical understandings of Him and His physical presence on earth by acquiring knowledge and/or by making faithful steps, respectively. This is a kind of active agency, where we come to see ourselves as vehicles of God's Will and His desire to reveal His will to us. With "Credo quia Absurdum est," we are merely witnesses and interpreters of God's will. By this logic, the purpose of the spiritual journey is not to reach God, but rather to surrender to the absurd premises of His existence and at best become a conduit through which He reveals Himself to the world. Before we can take even the first faithful step towards a deeper understanding of God, we must first be willing to free fall into faith, to fearlessly embark upon a journey that has no clear path. We must be capable of believing in the unbelievable, willing to accept the futility of our minds to ever completely understand what God is and how He works.

Being good pilgrims is about surrender, not steps. This is true in life's pilgrimage and more specifically in all forms of human expression. For instance, the best live music that I've seen has been performed by musicians who interpret their surroundings improvisationally through their instruments. If you've ever listened to real jazz music (not Kenny G) then you know exactly what I'm talking about. The best speakers that I've seen are those who are capable of speaking extemporaneously, inspired by the spontaneity of the moment that they are witness to. The best art that I've looked at is impressionistic--it attempts to capture the essence of a moment in time with color on a blank canvass. And the best writing that I've ever read is written by authors who write from their stream of consciousness, uninhibited by the obstacles of proper grammar and language. But most importantly, the best pilgrims that I've known are those who see life as a work of art and themselves as instruments through which God continues to reveal Himself to the world.

Amen.

PS-- Happy late Birthday Claire! I love you! OO
(sorry about the photo Adam, much love to you also.)

Hurry Up...and Wait

Current Location: Shetland Islands, UK

Current Coordinates: 60°′″N 1°′″W ( just barely west of Greenwich)

Listening: "Steal My Sunshine" by LEN, 1999

Still in Lerwick and waiting on the weather to change for the better. The pattern so far has been to pull into port, do maintenance on the boat and then wait for a week for the weather to change. This is very frustrating, but you can't argue with the weather.

I'm spending most of my time reading my books for the M.A. program that I start in September in Florence. I'm also writing here, running on some of the best coastal trails I've ever seen, and taking as many pictures as I can.

On Sunday we went down to Sumburgh Head where there is a viking ruin called Jarlshof. I took lots of pictures, some of which I've attached below. Enjoy.

(Shetland Pony)

Last night Mike, Jack, and I went back down to the Douglas Arms for a pint and some celtic music. This was very neat--live musicians playing celtic music with everyone sitting around like it was someone's living room. It was fantastic!

We may have a break in the weather today after all. We've had nothing but S and SE winds at Beaufort force 5 and 6 since we've been here--the nautical equivalent of trying to drive into a brick wall. According to MagicSeaweed.com (our weather site) we're going to get some favorable winds for the next few days. Our plan is to get as far south down into Scotland as we can to make up for lost time. We hope to be in Cork by mid July.

Political trouble in Israel (pending conflict with Iran?) might change Gitana's course. Mike had originally planned to sail Gitana to Australia via the Med and the Red Sea but the latest edition of The Economist reports that Israel is rattling its sabers, threatening to invade Iran and destroy its nuclear sites. In Mike's words, being in the middle of such a conflict "would not be good."

This means that we might go into the Med only as far as Tunis, Tunisia (Northern Africa) where Mike has considered wintering the boat. He then would come back next year (perhaps with me) and head back out into the Atlantic past Gibraltar and then sail south down the western coast of Africa down around Cape of Good Hope. The passage from Cape of Good Hope to the western part of Australia is apparently very quick because you can catch the tradewinds.

Thanks again to all for reading and keeping up with my journey. I've talked to Mom and Dad back home and they keep telling me that all kinds of people are keeping up with it which is great. I'd love to hear from more of you! Drop me a line at evans2pm@gmail.com or leave me a comment on the page.

Most likely won't be back online until Saturday or Sunday. Until then.

Cheers! --Paul