Surf and the Wild Southern

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Though completely swamped, the boat was nearly unharmed. Swimming round it we picked up the floating oars, and lashing them across the gunwale, tumbled back to our places. There we sat up to our knees in the sea, the water covering every rib and plank, so that to our downward gazing eyes the suspended craft seemed.

Meanwhile the driving scud, rack, and mist, grew darker with the shadows of night; no sign of the ship could be seen. The rising sea forbade all attempts to bale out the boat. The oars were useless as propellers, performing now the office of life-preservers the real life from the wild one.

Wet, drenched through, and shivering cold, despairing of ship or boat, we lifted up our eyes as the dawn came on.

There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own. However, nothing dispirits, and nothing seems worth while disputing. He bolts down all events, all creeds, and beliefs, and persuasions, all hard things visible and invisible, never mind how knobby; as an ostrich of potent digestion gobbles down bullets and gun flints. And as for small difficulties and worryings, prospects of sudden disaster, peril of life and limb; all these, and death itself, seem to him only sly, good-natured hits.

Surfing time!

Waiting for hide tide. It was to fully enjoy and embrace this part of the journey. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life surfing the best spots in the world, living easy and minimal. Spend time with my familiy, eating healthy and doing sports.

The Good Life

The Good Life

Surfing — 7:30 to 9:30. The Good Life. In Costa Rica, the present, the past, and the future lie in the same line. Surf or Die.

The deepest in the jungle, the more alive you feel — Nature is awesome.

Amazing country, poor politics. As many, Costa Rica is a country whose people saw their rights violated for a long time: the country is full of natural resources snatched by the corrupted politicians to hugely enrich themselves. Low education caps the story.

The Good People. I’m deeply interested in the shapes and the colours we use to design and fill the spaces that surrounds us.

Neverland Stories from Morocco

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“The harder the road, the highest the fun. Nature is Awesome.”

Outstanding Sahara

 

The wind increased to a howl; the waves dashed their bucklers together; the whole squall roared, forked, and crackled around us like a white fire upon the prairie, in which, unconsumed, we were burning; immortal in these jaws of death.

Floating on the waves we saw the abandoned boat, as for one instant it tossed and gaped beneath. There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke.

Crushed in the bottom of the boat. Suddenly Queequeg started to his feet, hollowing his hand to his ear. We all heard a faint creaking, as of ropes and yards hitherto muffled by the storm. The sound came nearer and nearer; the thick mists were dimly parted by the way. Again we swam for it, were dashed against it by the seas, and were at last taken up and safely landed on board.

There we sat up to our knees in the sea, the water covering every rib and plank, so that to our downward gazing eyes the suspended craft seemed a coral boat grown up.

Fez and the ‘Moodina’

The wind increased to a howl; the waves dashed their bucklers together; the whole squall roared, forked, and crackled around us like a white fire upon the prairie, in which, unconsumed, we were burning; immortal in these jaws of death! In vain we hailed the other boats; as well roar to the live coals down the chimney of a flaming furnace as hail those boats in that storm. Meanwhile the driving scud, rack, and mist, grew darker with the shadows of night; no sign of the ship could be seen.

The rising sea forbade all attempts to bale out the boat. The oars were useless as propellers, performing now the office of life-preservers. So, cutting the lashing of the waterproof match keg, after many failures Starbuck contrived to ignite the lamp in the lantern; then stretching it on a waif pole, handed it to Queequeg as the standard-bearer of this forlorn hope. There, then, he sat, holding up that imbecile candle in the heart of that almighty forlornness. There, then, he sat, the sign and symbol.