Smallness, the Man and an Adventurer, Magic, and Gifts (Post by Michael)

Seems each movement in my life is thematic.

My passport struggles resolve before Nick's and while Nick is in boat arrest, I hitchhike to see Iceland's giant glacier. On the way, two or three cars stop to say that they have no room for me. Who does that? Holy cow, I am not only tiny in front of the glacier, I am small in the warmth of these Icelanders. The continuing of the gifts.

So we're sailing from Djupivogur (which I now can pronounce, btw.) and lo and behold, a giant vessel births a tiny boat filled with official looking 30 year-olds sporting uniformed dry suits. I am at the helm and while smiling quizzically at Nick, I head into the wind so we can be boarded by the Icelandic Coast Guard. An hour later and after much confession and explanation, they release us after determining it is indeed Nick's choice to either go to jail, pay the fine, or go to court. Curiously and after being interviewed/interrogated/quizzed by one young officer, he declares, "so you are an adventurer". Ay, it started me musing and it felt, tho unintended and tho cast in the opposite direction, to be a fit.

The wind and time dictate (analogous to life, eh?) to Nick that we sail to the Hebrides and end up in a safe harbor on the Isle of Lewis, near Carloway.  This landing is not without incident as we scout for a lighthouse at the entrance to the harbor with, it turns out, is not functioning. Safe from a close call with a rock (the spotting of which I modestly take credit), we set an anchor at midnight. The next morning and after finding the pier, I ask the only person to be found where might be the village. And after a couple of hours, including previewing the Broch (see the photo of round stone structure, above, built in about the Jesus) and the Callinish Stones (see the photo of the standing stones, above, built about 3,000 years earlier than Jesus), and a trip to his abattoir for some ram horns, Ian drops us back to the boat. From one asking to a guided tour

The other day on Loch Maddy it was galing. Force 7 or 8. Glad Nick foresaw this weather and guided us to a safe harbor. Walking about on the dock I was blown hither and thither - the rain stung my face. 

This trip is not about seeing or experiencing. Its about magic. Its about gifting. It's about kind words. About touching sharings. Crab from one fisherman, offers of lobster from two others, a monkfish from fourth. A gift of a hand knit sweater, for goodness sakes. Mike and Jess, and deep conversations after a chance meeting and a few minutes. A new friend giving oilskins so I won't be wet and cold. 

I could not be cold with all this warmth. I could not be cold with all this warmth.