Across Antarctica with Ran Fiennes and Mike Stroud

Yup, I am still travelling - in the metaphorical sense. I am reading both the Fiennes and Stroud accounts of their unsupported crossing of the Antarctic Continent.  I am not too sure that I would be Ran Fiennes first choice to pull a sledge weighing hundreds of pounds across the bottom of the world.  I went out for one hour with a young pioneer sister Thursday afternoon - a very easy hour, and she did the driving, there was minimal walking, and I was chauffered from door to door - but its pretty much finished me off. I can hardly move today.  No frostbite though.

At present we - Ran, Mike, and me along for the ride - are in the Mill Glacier - and very frostbitten. They're getting a bit ratty about having to tow me and my sofa along as well as their sledges. Did they think I was going to walk it!  And I think we must all be as mad as hatters, many icicles short of a load.  Here is another place no-one is supposed to be.  I don't think even germs can survive here. As Betty McDonald once said, of her home in the northerly USA: "Any germ that could survive the rigours of this climate would be so big and strapping you could see it coming for blocks."

Ran Fiennes says this:  "I found this canvas full of power and wonder and thanked God for this moment of being alive.  Nothing else lived here nor ever had since the dinosaurs of Gondwanaland. No birds nor beasts nor the least bacteria survived. Only the deep roar of massive avalanche, the shriek and grind of splitting rock, the groan of shifting ice, and the music, soft or fierce, of the winds from a thousand valleys, moved to and fro across the eternal silence."
("Mind Over Matter", Ranulph Fiennes, Mandarin non-fiction)

The beauty and the power of the creation moved  him to thank God for it.  And for the gift of life.

Even now, imperfect, dying, cut off from our Source of life as we are, and with the whole world system lying in the power of "the wicked one", we can see the wonderful qualities of Jehovah in the splendour of his creation.  And that can move us to search for Him.

And, if we do, we are assured that he will let himself be found by us.

And we can find such joy in being alive, even as things are now.  How much more wonderful it will be when the earth is being restored to Paradise, we can probably only begin to imagine.

Captain Butterfly has set off looking smart in his yellow safety jacket for a morning's  bucket rattling outside Sainsbury's - collecting to finance the Sussex Rescuers.    Jacks is back!  Hurrray!!  She gave us a lovely supper last night - lasagne, chocolate chiffon cake, and Oyster Bay wine.

I can't go on the door to door work this morning as I can barely stand up.  Not because of Jack's supper, I must quickly, add - but because of my arthritic legs.    I will pray for some internet witnessing to do.

By the way, whether Ran Fiennes and Mike Stroud should have made that crossing or not, given how precious life is, what an achievement... I don't understand how they were alive at the end of it.

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Climbing Everest

I've been climbing Everest again - and this time by the Northerly route, which believe you me is more difficult than the Southerly route. It requires more technical climbing for a start.

Well, no, i haven't actually been there.  Not as such.  Not with my knees.  I am still waiting for the Stannah Stairlift Expedition, but I don't think they've installed one yet.  It would seem to be only a matter of time though.

And i have to think that is the only way anyone should go up there.  Life is too precious.   And look what all this climbing is doing to a beautiful mountain.

I have been reading Matt Dickinson's "The Death Zone".  And in it he says, of arriving at Camp 5:  "I began to notice the squalor our tents are pitched amongst.  The platform was littered with the shredded remains of abandoned tents, with strips of fabric blowing in the wind.  Pieces of rope, half buried sachets of food and remnants of clothing were embedded in almost every inch of ice.  Sharp metal snow stakes were sticking out at crazy angles, attached to lines which went nowhere.  Large areas of ice were stained yellow from urine, and frozen faeces were abundantly scattered around."

And bodies of dead climbers lie in the high mountain too, unburied.

Who could bury them, or bring them down again?   Once you are in the death zone, there is no guarantee you can get yourself back down alive, let alone anyone else.  This is not a place where we should be.

Matt Dickinson can climb and he can write.  He was there in the year of the calamitous storm, the year that John Krakauer wrote about in "Into Thin Air".   But of course Matt and his companions were climbing the other side of the mountain.  And yesterday I climbed it with them.

I knew that 3 Indian climbers and an Austrian had died on the North face in that storm, and this book tells something of their story.  There was a Japanese team on the mountain who apparently climbed right past the dying Indians and didn't stop or make any attempt to help them. However, it does seem from Matt's account that there was nothing they could have done to save them. They were all too high up.

Wasn't it Rob Hall's wife who said that expecting to be rescued from the summit of Everest was like expecting to be rescued from the surface of the Moon?

And of course her husband, and the New Zealand guide, Andy Harris, did try.  They were on the other side of the mountain when this happened, and, caught by the storm, they stayed with their client, Doug Hansen, and tried to get him back down to safety. But they couldn't save him, and they all died. And their bodies too lie unburied on the high mountain.

Should any of them have been there?  However I know Jehovah will not forget the love they showed for each other, and I hope he will wake them up when the time comes - all those dead climbers.  Then our lives will be so full of meaning and so full of joy that there will no need for dangerous adventuring.

And Everest will be clean and perfect again.

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The new Kingdom Hall

We had a meeting at the Bognor Regis Kingdom Hall this morning.  The brothers from the Building Committee gave us several talks about the work that is to start next week.  The angle was very much on how Jehovah will help us, and on Health and Safety.  It lasted nearly two hours, I was surprised to notice - as the time just flew by.

The first speaker started off by reminding us about the building of the Tabernacle and reading Exodus 36:1,2:   “And Bez′al‧el must work, also O‧ho′li‧ab and every wise-hearted man to whom Jehovah has given wisdom and understanding in these things in order to know how to do all the work of the holy service according to all that Jehovah has commanded.”  And Moses proceeded to call Bez′al‧el and O‧ho′li‧ab and every wise-hearted man into whose heart Jehovah had put wisdom, everyone whose heart impelled him to approach the work in order to do it."

We then read Exodus 35:25,26:  "And all the women who were wise of heart spun with their hands, and they kept bringing as yarn the blue thread and the wool dyed reddish purple, the coccus scarlet material and the fine linen.  And all the women whose hearts impelled them with wisdom spun the goat’s hair."

I doubt we will be needing any goats hair spun, but I love the idea that if we are wise at heart and want to serve Jehovah he will give us the wisdom and practical skills to do so.  Especially needed in my case.  Although I am not sure what I will be able to do, beyond make cakes, which the brothers will apparently be wanting in large numbers to have with their cups of tea.  I have two reliable recipes from the days when I used to bake for the Red Sea dive trips - carrot cake and marmalade muffins.  I may have to get the recipes out and dust them down.  IF the new medicine kicks in, I will certainly offer to wash up and peel veggies in the kitchens. But at the moment I can't stand up for more than about 10 minutes.

However, if I get to the restored earthly Paradise, there will be all sorts of things to do there, wonderful things, building, gardening, teaching all the resurrected dead - and learning more and more about Jehovah and his purposes. And it is good to be reminded that if we trust in Jehovah, he will equip us to do his will.

The second speaker started off by asking us what is Jehovah's view of life?  And of course, the Creator of life views life as sacred and highly values it.  Therefore so must we.  And we were discussing the provisions of the Mosaic Law - Jehovah's law.  For example, when a house was built, God’s Law required that its roof—a place of considerable family activity—have a parapet. “You must also make a parapet for your roof, that you may not place bloodguilt upon your house because someone . . . might fall from it.” (Deuteronomy 22:8) If someone fell because this safety law had not been observed, God held the owner responsible. No doubt, application of the loving principle embodied in this law would minimize accidents at the workplace or even in recreation.

And, yes, it would. I was reminded of a tragic incident many years ago when my parents were still alive.  There is a block of flats beside their bungalow - 4 storey I think - with a flat roof.   In the Fifties and Sixties builders and architects seemed to forget that it rains a lot in England.   Anyway this roof needed some attention and there was scaffolding up and some workmen on the top, and lots of clattering and banging.  Then suddenly the site went quiet and all the workmen went home.

It turned out that one of them had fallen from the roof, onto concrete and died.  And I feel sure that if a barrier, a parapet, had been erected while the building work was going on that would not have happened.

Its not that Christians are under the Mosaic Law. They aren't.   But we can and must learn from the principles that it teaches us.

So we heard about all the safety precautions that will be taken, and what part we can each play in keeping everybody involved with the build safe.

Col kindly drove me there and one of my siblings drove me back and dropped me off at my front door.

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Her Indoors

I am still Her Indoors, though the legs do feel somewhat better. Foot still very swollen though.  Studied, did some housework, made the Captain's sandwiches - he fluttered off the minute the sun came out - and read. Got to the meeting last night - very glad to be in touch with my siblings again, but feel so bad I haven't been out on the door to door work.  Audrey has phoned every day and kept me in touch. There is a big meeting at the hall on Saturday morning for all us volunteers, as the building work is about to start.  Though what use I can be I don't know.  Can't exactly see myself climbing up ladders carrying bricks.  Maybe the brothers will need sandwiches and cakes making, that sort of thing. Hopefully I can do that.

Here is a poem - well definitely not a poem, but a verse - I wrote it so many years ago it makes me dizzy to think about.  We were visiting my brother - before he left for Oz - before he got married - before he had children.  He was a student at the time, I think, and was living in a friend's house in Bath.

It was so long ago.  One of the strange new things about getting old is that you have a longer and longer perspective - layers upon layer of memory.  Its good. But strange.

AVONDALE ROAD

by me 

The spider guard to Judy’s plum tree

Nearly caught me

However tables neatly turned

 For Colin caught it in his hand

 It was lifted, turned, and photographed

 Exultantly our Colin laughed

 “This photograph, it will be good.”

 And sure enough, it got a first

 At the Dhahran Expat’s Camera Club.

We must have that spider photo somewhere, in one of the many many boxes we bought back with us from our expat years.

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A Butterfly Sea - and Jekyll

We woke up to storms. Wind, much needed rain, and a fierce Channel.  "Isn't the sea wonderful?" I gushed to Captain B.  "No." he said, with a face like thunder (to keep the storm motif going) "Its not a butterfly sea."

True enough - cold, windy, rainy.   However, after a few hours, the sun appeared, and Captain Butterfly disappeared.  He was off to Rewell Woods, to look for PBFs - Pearl Bordered Fritillarys to all you non-butterfly buffs out there.

I sent Joy (in Expatland) a poem I just found.  We spent many years of our expat life round at her parents house - and went on holidays with them, and camping trips.   They had a mynah bird called Jekyll, who was quite fierce and noisy. When he died I wrote a poem for him.

JEKYLL
by me

So farewell then darling Jekyll

Now no voice our guests will heckle

No seed our floors will speckle

And no beak our hands will peckle

You’re a bird we’ll not forgetle

An eagle, not a starling!

Farewell then, Jekyll darling.

 I haven't done much as I am still not very mobile.  My medicine came.  I studied, and I used up some veggies to make us a soup for our tea, and an apple crumble to go along with it.  "Will there be custard?" asked Captain B when he rang me from the woods to tell me about the PBF situation.  

There was.

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Hobbling through the Bluebell Woods - and re-reading

I did manage half an hour's slow and painful walk in the Arundel woods.  There was a cold wind, and we didn't see a single butterfly, but the bluebells are coming out.  Soon they will be a carpet.  Sadly I did not make it to the field service group on Saturday or to the meeting today.  I can't drive at the moment, and El Capitano is away stewarding the Brighton Marathon, or he would have driven me.

So I am in intensive training for the Couch Potato Marathon - and at this rate will be pretty hard to beat.

Just re-read "Quartet in Autumn" by Barbara Pym.  The quartet are four office workers, two who retire during the course of the book, and two who will retire.  Its the first time I've read it as a retiree myself.  She captures well, and with a very light touch, how, as retirement approaches, you find yourself becoming a part of the past.  The world is going on without you.

Quartet is funny and sad in just the right way.  Spoiler alert...!  Although given that this not a thriller...  Marcia's oddity and unpleasantness are wonderfully captured, as is the way her mind is starting to go haywire - you see how strange her actions are, but how they make perfect sense to her.

And the saga of the alien milk bottle is brilliant.

Barbara Pym gives Marcia a happy and peaceful death, even though it takes place in hospital. But...  well, let it speak for itself:  "The young doctor bent over Marcia. He didn't like the look of her at all - indeed she was the kind of patient one didn't like the look of at the best of times."

And the book ends on a note of hope for our heroine Letty who sees how much life might still be holding out to her.

And, speaking as one who is loving retirement, I think that is the perfect way to end it.

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Poems and Poets

I have been re-reading a couple of books about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath - and I wonder why there had to be such sturm and drang about the writing of poetry back then.

Maybe there still is now?  But hopefully not.

And what a bad press Sylvia Plath gave to those who loved her.  If I hadn't read about her life but had only read her poetry I would have assumed that her father was a Nazi.  Whereas he was far from it.  He did die when Sylvia was young, but i doubt that he did it on purpose.

Once again, I have to note the Bible's superior wisdom.  "The truly wise woman has built up her house, but the foolish one tears it down with her own hands." - Proverbs 14:1

And also, as I don't want to take sides, suppose Ted Hughes had known and taken to heart these words:  "Drink water out of your own cistern, and tricklings out of the midst of your own well.  Should your springs be scattered out of doors, [your] streams of water in the public squares themselves?  Let them prove to be for you alone, and not for strangers with you.  Let your water source prove to be blessed, and rejoice with the wife of your youth,  a lovable hind and a charming mountain goat. Let her own breasts intoxicate you at all times. With her love may you be in an ecstasy constantly.  So why should you, my son, be in an ecstasy with a strange woman or embrace the bosom of a foreign woman? " - Proverbs 5:15-20

A charming mountain goat... of course, as us ladies get older it tends to become more of a (hopefully) charming mountain goat with rather bad knees who tends to avoid mountains and stairs. But the principle remains the same.  Faithful and loyal love between a married couple is a source of true happiness. Especially in retirement.

Its difficult because it wasn't meant to be like this We were never meant to wither and die. We were made to live forever. And we would, if our first parents had not unplugged themselves from their Creator, their source of life, before they had us, their children.  So its not easy to cope with. And marriage now is the union of two imperfect people in an imperfect world.   But we all long for the perfection we should have had - and will have, if we trust in Jehovah with all our heart.

Ted and Sylvia were the fatally flawed children of Adam, living in a world system ruled by Satan. And so am I.  So I am in no position to judge them (or anyone) - I just wish they had known the truth.

However, I can say that it didn't require one ounce of sturm and drang to get this poem written (but you could probably have guessed that even if i hadn't told you):

THE BACKYARD SQUIRREL

 by me 

The cardboard – Cardboard?? – that helps to prop

My aged father’s tumbledown Heath Robinson greenhouse up

Has come into its own today

The backyard squirrel has been carting it away

To become part of a ramshackle array

Of nesting bits that fill the fork

Of our tallest tree.   We must be careful how we walk

So as not to frighten her away.

If she can rear a brood in that leafy muddle

We’ll have a Spring of baby squirrels.

If the backyard squirrel is still around she must be a great grandmother many times squared by now.  

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