I’ve just read Gibbings, “Thames Run Softly”. Good read. I have many books on the shelf where the author tells of some trip they’ve taken. Early explorers crossing the oceans for the chance to discover new worlds, others sailing far and wide for trade, some going out to battle for their country, some hiking across foreign lands and some just plain pirates but some of the best tales are told by those who went just to go, to see what they might see. So it is with Gibbings. He takes a small boat and floats down the Thames.

I have a long held favorite of these sorts of books, Harry Pidgeon, “Around the World in Islander”. Harry is more the rough sort than Robert. One a farm boy, ranch hand, gold miner, boat builder, solo circumnavigator, the other, engraver, author, teacher, amateur naturalist, still different as they may seem from that, the books read with a familiarity you might not expect. Both these men draw you in with simple honest caring, not boyish enthusiasm, neither was a boy when he wrote. You would expect that a voyage around the globe and a drift down the Thames would be much different stories. They are very different in detail. Robert tells about the particular habit of birds nesting on the shore, the plants and the fish in the river, Harry’s concerns are the mountains, the sea, the islands, the boat and the weather. They both like to speak with any and all they come across. Obviously due to circumstances Gibbings has more opportunity than Pidgeon. Gibbings is good in his stories of people, Pidgeon more the romantic in nature. A small flat bottomed boat, a 37 foot ocean goer, as I was saying to a friend the other day, scale is often determined by how you frame the view.

As I read I find a similarity of “voice”. I think that Harry and Robert could have enjoyed a beer together; I think they would have recognized in each other the pleasure of simply going into the world and looking about, one of my favorite pastimes as well. I am happy to recommend both books.

“From the top of those downs one can see a mighty long way on a clear day. There is however, nothing that is really spectacular, though much that is homely and lovable, in the gently undulating country, where farm succeeds farm, and fields of newly turned earth alternate with those whose crops are ripening to harvest.” Gibbings, cultured Englishman.

“At last we came down to where herds of cattle were grazing on a beautiful meadow. We found sweet oranges to quench our thirst, and rested in the shade of the trees. It was one of the prettiest spots in the world, and as I looked over the green valley nestling between the mountains, I thought I should like to settle there, and quit the tossing sea; but in the end I wandered back to where the Islander lay, and made ready to sail.” Pidgeon, Iowa loose on the world.

I have quoted a couple of the prettier passages, naturally. Looking back over this I remember an English teacher who lowered my grade for too many commas, it didn’t work.

The other night I had dinner with a friend, good man, good heart, seen enough of life to know what it is. He’s alone again and I’m coming on my twenty fifth anniversary. So we talked about relationships the how’s and why’s. I've kept thinking the last few days.

So many things must come together to have a relationship that lasts. So many fail at the start, from attitudes, expectations. It only makes it harder as you try and make it happen, harder still if you fight, from fear.

How to find someone, I’m no help, how to keep, perhaps.

Start with someone you like to hang out with and do. Don’t think about romance, don’t think about sex, and don’t think about what may be. Sit over coffee and watch passersby. Read the paper together. Go for walks. Simple things will tell, no movies where the two of you sit in darkness watching someone else’s fantasy, not the concert hall or playhouse. Simple quiet times will tell. Are you friends? The young and the ones not ready to go the distance are the ones that need romance. With experience we grow less fascinated with the drama, less susceptible, some of us even immune.

Sometimes a lover becomes a friend and it works. A more likely path is to fall in love with a friend. Start with something real. Nothing from Disney or Pixar, nothing ethereal, not gossamer but granite, and no shining polished slab, a chunk broken from the mountain, hard, plain, with sharp edges. Beautiful in its way but the look of it tells you there’ll be pain, if you look, if you see. Pain will always come, just as well to see it early and know whence it comes. The polish comes with time, with patience. How rough a piece can you handle? Don’t start with some monstrous struggle. What that means only you can know and you need too.

Deb and I have been together many years. We have our marriage. We have our love.

It is no clear sun shinning bright on us. That light makes hard shadows, places you can’t see into. More like a high clouded sky. Everywhere is lit, the shadows are open. There is nothing hidden, the truth of us is plain, easy to see and understand. It is no dream that keeps us together, but the simple truth of who we are, what we've been thru together, the bond that has grown stronger thru the good times and the bad. The commitment we made to each other, the stubbornness to see it through. No fairy tale romance, no plate of gold, more a fistful of rich earth, you can feel the grit and know the fullness of life within it. That is our marriage and I can think of nothing more wonderful, nothing I could treasure more.

Good luck.

 Aside;

Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life.       Joseph Conrad

Sausal Creek

Went for a walk Sat. Picked up the trail at the end of Bridgeview Drive in Oakland. My fav hiking stick, hazel and a Red deer drop, all the way from England via Ebay.

Nice wide path, some joggers, some dog walkers. I hadn't been on this trail before, I was pleased it wasn't more crowded.

Some nice views across the canyon.

After heading uphill a bit I found a trail down to Sausal Creek. Left at the post.

Good trail all the way down. I think 5 switchbacks, probably 90 or 100 nice long paces apart.

Once I got down I felt at home.

When I was 5 or 6 we moved to a house next to a large (to me) vacant lot, many trees, lots of brush. A creek ran past our back yard and cut thru the lot. I spent many hours wandering that lot and creek. That's when I started tuning creeks. I would shift the rocks at key points to get the sound I wanted. Maybe taking out the middles so the bass and treble had more separation, sometimes featuring one or the other, sometimes louder, sometimes softer. I still do it some times.

Catching crawdads, scrambling up and down the banks to no particular purpose,   idling,   listening,   seeing.  Still these places are special to me. I think most people favor the open hillside and grand view. To me those places can't compare with the pleasure of traipsing the creek bed. Judging which rock won't roll under my step, listening to the squirrels chatter, the birds in the brush. Sheltered from the sun by overhanging branches, the world seeming to be cut back to this close view. Alone, in such good company.