Even in summer, there remains a bit of chill to that water this far south. This does not deter the intrepid though, and we only turned back when we started bumping into icebergs…
I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
Comments
And lucky you living so close to the ocean.
No doubt you turned back after the iceberg encounter!
«Louis» was happy to see you had stopped by San Francisco Bay Daily Photo.
Thiên, now I have Glen Campbell stuck in my head! Did you hear the sea waves crashing?
Carola, believe me that it was chilly! Video to come!
Louis la Vache, we waved to the penguins that were catching a lift and carried on in true Tasmanian spirit.
Roddy, as a sailor, I should expect you to know that the Atlantic is on the other side of Antarctica.