WHAT IS THERE IN THIS OF THAT?
Approaching the Azores
Storm clouds round the horizon
Sea and sky darkening
You will look back on these words and say
Did I write this there?
Did ink flow from a pen held in my fingers
In those circumstances
1500 miles from land?
What is there in this of that?
Perhaps the tank smell of old fuel oil on the paper
The stain of some smut
Or meaning in words
But I am white-outed
Surrounded by everything until it comes in
Sometimes there is almost no me
I am chores - washing, drying
Checking for colour run
Black tapes with colour bars
Plot points on charts
Say my two words of Russian
Smile a lot
In my neat soldier's cabin
I am not home.
2300: Clocks back to GMT -1, so it was another impossibly long evening. Of course there is no reason why we passengers should be hugger-mugger and the language thing is a problem, but I at least need some way of getting through the evenings without feeling isolated.
0930 - 1045: After breakfast, up onto the deck. Lot of filming right at the top of the ship, a bit of writing. Sky blue and spectacular. The crew busy working round the ship, the hatch covers open for repairs on the tracks. Fantastic up there, listening to Dylan on 'random' play.
1400: Went to the bridge to get a position. The officer on watch delightedly told me that at 1600/ 1630 we would be passing 5 miles from the Azores . He showed me on the chart - I think we pass between Flores and Horta, with Vila de Santa Cruz as our landfall. "Perhaps mobile!" he said, and showed me his phone all ready to hand. I was surprised - I wondered who had told him I was hoping to make mobile contact in passing. Then I realised that the entire crew must look forward to times like this. Stupid not to realise that would be the case. Now I have a picture in my head of forty people all over the ship simultaneously trying to get a line.
I suppose there may be special provision on the Azores for this - powerful and big aerials for example. That would be good. Although ultimately it might be a bad thing to perpetuate these efforts at vicarious homecomings. It just maintains an impractical and destructive dependence. We'll see.
1645: Went to postpone daily table tennis in the interests of seeing our first landfall.
I came back on deck with camera and walkman (still listening to Dylan) and set up a shot of me watching for the landfall. And then, on the port bow, there they were - The Azores. All in one mass, and very high. I grabbed the camera and filmed, then went and made some phone calls. During the opportunity I made 4 calls and exchanged about 20 text messages, so Christ knows how much that cost.
Mark texted that South West Film Studios has gone bankrupt. Heads should roll, but I bet they won't. All is well at home and I managed to speak to Nick.
The Azores were partly shrouded in cloud and the weather looked rough. They seemed very rugged and the only settlements visible were white buildings dotted on high slopes.
THE SEA IS A COLOUR THAT REVEALS NO SECRETS
We foresee this
A place of nothing
But water and weather
The sea is a colour that reveals no secrets
Tell us what you want, water
Tell us stories of your relationship with the wind
No consciousness here except that evoked by sheer size of movement
A million billion changes must have some existence
Outside the events
Like some great ray
Flapping through itself
Watching
Dappled by its filtered light
It does not diminish meaning
It focuses our attention
Giving none to panics
At the limits of our possibilities
This is only realism
We know our power and our own fears
When we fail to go mad here
In the face of such insensitivity.
What drove those people who first faced this?
The Azores
Sudden rush
All business
Phone calls
Images collected
White settlements in steep hillsides
Look like bungalow towns
Steep and high
Need to be
Existence nearly cancelled out
By average with so much nothing
Got to make a noise if
You want to exist
So much sea
So much sky
So little else
If I could find a way
To bring everyone here with words or a picture
I wouldn't do it
I can't recommend it
It's a lonely view
Not all of us want that
If we are lucky enough to avoid it
Do we need it?
All in pieces
All pieces don't fit
Let it go.
1615: Up on deck, right at the top of the ship, but nothing in view.
1200LT GMT(posted):
N 40 10.4; W 26 14.5
Course 234
Speed 19.0Kt
Distances: from Le Havre 1265Nm; to go 2427Nm.
Air +21C; sea +23C;
Wind NE7, sea state 6.
BBC World Service: 25m band, 12.00Mhz.
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