Ryuishiro, Kanako, Juna and Carlos come to stay. We have the best fun.
Anyway, we had a wonderful time. Children make everything more fun. Thanks Carlos and Juna.
Ryuishiro, Kanako, Juna and Carlos come to stay. We have the best fun.
Anyway, we had a wonderful time. Children make everything more fun. Thanks Carlos and Juna.
Well, not the oldest thing I own because I have inherited some very old stuff, nor the oldest thing I have bought because I have purchased some 19th century maps. What I am trying to say is that the thing I am about to talk about is the oldest thing I bought new in my lifetime that I have still got. Er I thought this was my yellow diving bag that recently went to it. https://quietripple.wordpress.com/2016/07/02/bye-bye-bag/
However, as I was stirring my gruel last night, I realized that the wooden spoon I was using was a couscous spoon that I had purchased in Oran in 1975, which certainly predates the bag. These spoons are made out of palm trees. That does not sound quite right. I mean , you can make a lot of spoons from one palm tree.
I used to have an orange plastic comb that I used at school. It would pop up every 10 years or so but I have not seen it recently. Maybe it is in San Francisco.
I would be interested to know if any gentle readers have old stuff. I know my brothers have beautiful handwoven Calder tartan rugs that I think were bought in the 60s.
The words in the title have many meanings: cricket I think is bail, water from boat is also bail, I think, misery woe sorrow, is definitely bale, as is a compactness of stuff like cotton or hay. Then there is the whole leaving category as in: “Sorry chaps, left wing has gone, time to bail out.” or more recently, “Dudes, I am like totally gone, time to bail.”
So it has really rained a lot.
The rain fills the Scaffie with water. She becomes very heavy and I fear that she will drag her anchor or maybe rip the anchor cleat out of the thwart, if you see what I mean. I rush home from work to bail. This could mean: jump from aeroplane, leave a party in San Francisco or empty a boat of water. You decide.

Very low in the water
Having bailed I wade home to eat. I fear or exult that OIST has changed stuff around here. When I came here, big lumps of meat were not. You had to wangle your way onto an Ameircan base to buy steak. This was always kinda demeaning.
Now, in the supermarket down the road, I can buy amazing steak.

Is this a good thing?
Am I destroying Okinawan tradition? I bail.
My life has been characterized by a series of lucky breaks. One is the tree that grows smack in front of my house.
I remember my early childhood as hours and hours staring at willow pattern plates in cold rooms as the rain slashed against the window panes.
Now between my house and the sea, is a very beautiful tree.She reminds me of my childhood. She reminds me of Willow Pattern. She is elegantly formed and gives each gaze seaward a benchmark of quality. “Look at me!” she insists, “Before you look at that vulgar blue sea stuff.”
Just prior to moving into this house, Okinawa had been battered by 3 big-boy typhoons. My tree looked fragile and I did not know if she would make it. I have nursed her assiduously by cutting back invasive vegetation and pruning any dead wood.
I lash my saw to a bamboo pole and clear away the tree stuff that is blocking the purity of my view.
My tree is doing very well. I am so happy.
More turtle release with Rumi san. I walk over to her beach gazing at supersonic sunset.
It is very warm and pesky fruit bats get tangled in my hair.
We release about 100 babies who charge down the beach and heroically swim away.
Thank you Rumi san.
I was very excited going into this weekend. It is Summer, I have tanks, I have boat, I can still manage to haul myself into boat. These are all the ingredients needed for a lot of fun without drowning.
All day Saturday it rains like crazy. Thunderstorms that bring no wind. I stay inside sulking.
Finally, on Sunday afternoon the weather clears but even so there is little wind. Notwithstanding I slowly reach across Nagahama bay to the Cliffs of Zampa and the best diving in the world.
I dive.
The video only captures 10% of the amazingness.
I then have a very long sail home. The wind such as it is, blows more or less towards me. I set off on long tacks. The worst thing about sailing is not high wind and dreadful seas, it is gentle winds blowing against you. I make very slow progress but frankly who cares? It is a magnificent evening.
Not quite the weekend I had anticipated but incredible all same.
It is summer. I take off my shirt. I lurch into the Scaffie for an evening sail. In the process it would appear that I wrenched off my Raybans as I find only the string things that attached them to my person. Oh dear. Maybe I will find the in Davey Jone’s Locker tomorrow.
The wind is perfect, the weather is hot, it is the end of a very satisfying week like, you know, you know, kinda, workwise.
I decapsule a bottle of beer as what had been left behind post party.
I look at it accidentally and discover that it had been brewed in Wisconsin. Wisconsin! I am surging over the reef in Onna son on a hot Okinawan evening, drinking beer made in Wisconsin.
Guess the name of the beer? Leinenkugel! Germans in America now in Okinawa!
Hey, Politicians leave those immigrants alone.
Wonderful evening and I have the whole weekend ahead!
Rumi san, the lady who gave me the plumeria cuttings, came to the party. To my amazement she humbly mentions that every year she releases thousands of baby turtles onto the beach next to her idyllic guest house. http://www.sunset-bh.com/english/index.html Would I like to take part?
She explains that the real danger for turtle eggs are typhoons. The sea comes right up the beach, floods the nests in the sand and the eggs rot. To avoid this she locates the nests, digs up the eggs and reburies them in cosy sand boxes on her deck.
I go over tonight as the first babies have hatched. There are five and after sundown we release them.
It is too dark for photography and flash would not be appropriate. The little darlings go like hell straight to the sea and off they swim. One in a thousand grows to adulthood – boo hoo.
Golly.
I rise with the dawn and wander into my devastated home. I hate cleaning up late at night, at the end of the party. https://quietripple.wordpress.com/2016/07/23/rebexit/ It turns wildness into domesticity, enjoyment into puritanism, release into control. So at 6:30 the next day, which is today, I wander around with various trash bags picking up the aftermath. I like this. It brings back cameos of the previous evening as I come across various clusters of glasses, cans and bottles. It is party archaeology. By 7:30 it is all clean. Luckily today is the day of glass bottle, can and plastic bottle pick up. Did I organize this?
It is the most beautiful day ever and I take diving stuff into the Scaffie to explore the seas around Cape Zampa.
There is a gentle onshore wind that drives us elegantly across Nagahama bay.
Nobody goes here to dive. It is remote and you need a boat to get there, which is probably the reason. Anyway, under the water there are dozens of chasms each covered in an amazing variety of coral. It is relatively shallow. I think I rarely went under 40 feet. This means there is lots of light and visibility. It is incredible. The video that you will find does no justice to the real colors of the coral and the fish. I dive, I look, I gasp. I take the opportunity to clean the Scaffie’s bottom. I sail back across the bay towards my home. I head out to sea and then, profiting from the onshore breeze, take the gentlest of runs onto the mooring. No words.
There is a shoulder of lamb on the Cobb. Not very Okinawan I know but God bless you Okinawa and all who sail in her.
Rebecca has been with us for the last 6 months and has been the best fun. Now she leaves. We are so unhappy that we have a party.
My neighbor comes in unusual garb. He is frankly er eccentric.
Frankly, it is too hot to have a party but we work at it.