Went to my paddling waters last Sunday and on the road there everything was fine for the first 60 km. Then the brakes stopped to answer to my attempts to engage them. Experienced fear of good for the third time in my life, but made it to the destination, stomach full of butterflies. Made it back home after paddling as well.
Saw no seal.
But have surprised a swain family – two adults and two chickens, now in their swainy teens – coming with the elements from behind an island. Was observing them since the late of July, when I saw them for the first time, the chickens newly hutched then. A very distinguished family, as one of the chickens was white from the beginning, while the usual dress is grey. Took a few pictures.
The car is left for repairs, I’m stranded at home… Ah well, it’s too windy anyway.
Information for the interested. I chose a few paragraphs, you can read the whole article here:
October 1, 2021
Kevin Kavanagh, MD
Unlike influenza, SARS-CoV-2 uses ACE2 receptors to infiltrate cells. Similar to HIV, SARS-CoV-2 can silently spread throughout the host’s body and attack almost every organ.Medicine appears to have largely bought into the SARS-CoV-2 seasonal influenza analogy. Everything appears to be focused on pulmonary disease. Fringe coronavirus deniers started the narrative that COVID-19 was like the flu. This disinformation narrative has taken hold and has even affected decision making of prominent scientific committees, where disease severity is increasingly defined as a hospitalization (most commonly due to pulmonary distress), rather than the potential chronic and long-term disabling sequelae. (...)
COVID-19 has a number of presentations and pulmonary is just one. More than anything else, the receptor used for attachment determines the behavior of any virus, along with what organs and even species it can infect.
Human rhinoviruses, the most common cause of a cold, uses the ICAM-1 (intercellular adhesion molecule-1) receptor to enter cells. This receptor allows the virus to replicate in sinus tissues but not to a variety of other tissues. The influenza virus attaches to cells via sialic acid receptors, (...) The influenza virus primarily targets a patient’s lungs, but then the patient’s immune response can also produce a myriad of system symptoms from loss of appetite and myalgias. HIV uses the CD4 receptor residing on Lymphocytes. HIV is initially asymptomatic, and the initial stages of disease can easily be classified as “mild”, a disease which, if left untreated, almost uniformly turns aggressive and fatal over the course of 8 to 10 years.
In the case of SARS-CoV-2, the virus which causes COVID-19, the ACE2 receptor is used for viral entry into the cells. The ACE2 receptor is entirely different to that used by the rhinovirus and seasonal flu. (...) This receptor is present throughout the body, not just the lungs.
(...)
Thus, there are multiple presentations of SARS-CoV-2 including pulmonary, cardiac, gastrointestinal (GI), and central nervous system (CNS).
(...)
The other day I went to the nearest Lidl for groceries. Nothing dramatic: some fruits and… fruits. Would be a usual day and nothing to write home about, but upon arriving at check-out I’ve discovered that I didn’t have my card with me…
…I’s paddling the previous week-end and then I don’t take my whole wallet with me. In order to keep it “lite” I take only my driving licence and my card, leaving the whole heft of the wallet at home. I usually put the plastic squares back in upon returning…
…but not this time. (Any chance I’m emotional?)
So I’m staring into my wallet and see no card, but discover a 100 SEK note. (As an after-thought: if I stared hard enough, would I discover more?) And I tell the cashier that I’ve forgotten my card at home, but I have 100 SEK. And if my purchase costs more, then I’d have to abstain of some of it.
And then… (the heaven should crack at this point) a man, that checked-out before me, says: I pay gladly for you and you can swish me that amount.
A short mute scene… and then I say that I don’t have my mobile with me, but thank you nonetheless.
…I don’t always have my mobile with me. And the last I’ve paddled, I’ve forgotten it in the car (am I emotional or what?) And I expected to meet hordes of seals just lying there staring at me, because I had nothing to take a photo with. (When you have your mobile, they dive into water as soon as you appear at the horizon. They let yachts and motorboats pass “without a turn of their cabbage head”, but get all agitated, when I’m splashing by in my totally ecological and sustainable vessel. Unfair, to put it mildly… and where can I complain?)
…The man stays put while I’m digging up wee coins that’d add to 112 SEK of my purchase and then, when it was obvious that the matter is settled, he just disappears with a light nod and I don’t even have a chance to thank him properly for being there for me.
...cried the whole 35 min on my way home. Am I emotional or what?
There are men on this planet. And I am so sorry, for my own sake, that I always busy with my own emotions, when I should just enjoy the treat that Fortune sent me.
…might turn out to be something else, than you hoped they’d be during the acquisition.
For me it’s an alpaca poncho in winter – soft, light, very warm and comforting – rather expensive…
…and a fly swatter during the summer: serves faithfully and fearlessly, cost pittance.
Those, claiming that you can’t buy happiness for money, are just misinformed :)
The perfect place: so much space and light and air at once, felt like I came out from a prison. A perfect day: no wind within the fiord; no waves, safe for those from the motorboats. The perfect me: I never stopped to believe that I’d return and I returned. To turn it right: my belief returned me.
After some time of adjustment, found the grip and the pace. And then the peace. And then the satisfaction. And then came joy. A total wholesome delight of being. At last!
Cloudy and warm enough to start the trip with short sleeves, took though on a wind-breaker with long sleeves upon coming closer to the open sea. There was a moderate North making waves, offering a resistance, waking up my abs and obliques. A pleasant discovery that I still had some after seven weeks.
Back in the protected waters, took a break for a few nuts and an apple. With a mouthful of juicy pulp, heard a proper splash as if someone dove in from a considerable height. Sure enough, an otter appeared a few metres from me and started to swim above the surface in a large circle. Chewing and softening, I observed the performance. On its second circle, a thought crossed my mind: could it be that the animal had a nest near the place I’s leisurely drifting by and the brave parent tried to lead me away from it? Increased the chewing frequencies, took the paddle and left the premises.
At the end of the trip – the marina’s already warned that I’m arriving in fifteen – I broke and turned, just to take in the whole view for the last time… and saw a rather large fish, ca 30 cm, jumping out of water once and again. Thought: “Someone has an excess of energy”, as I myself was totally exhausted. And then the fish jumped out a few times more: plump-plump-plump… And after came a seal and ended the story.
+5 C, cloudy and 2 m/s SW, which guarantees an event free paddling tour, but yesterday was windy, so the sea was rather choppy.
The usual baby-sitter couldn’t make it because of a minor injury, so I got a younger baby-sitter. Insurances and pleadings, that I’ll be fine on my own, didn’t do the trick. People have different ideas about what danger is. Had to accept the reality.
He’s the first time in those waters, in good mood, smiling and making small talk. I’m preferring to be on my own. Or at least left in peace. Led him through the crabbiest parts of the fjord, looking for the seal. No luck this time.
Around the first corner of Jonsborg, there is a low stone there that’s covered with water during high tide. The seal likes to lie there and then it looks like a seal is lying on water in the middle of the sea. (I have a picture.) No luck this time.
After rounding the second corner, we anchored for a tea break – the youth had thermos and cookies – so pleasant to get warm drink after all that seallessness and all…
And then on the way back, after we had chopped through an ice field – thin, but you can’t really paddle through ice – the youth said “It can’t be better, than that”, I sourly answered: “Oh, sure it can”… and there it was. Just appeared above the surface and looked at us. My companion was as enthusiastic and happy as I.
The seal let us see it for a few more times, but didn’t follow for long, as it had done a couple of times before.
Seals…
Got a short video of a colour-changing half-adult cygnet with a parent.
Found an oyster shell 18 cm long, 10 cm wide.
the coming Sunday.
Opened a bottle of champagne, I’ve bought for a different occasion, and called the marina. Told that I’ve checked with the weather god Prognosis and it promises -3 and 2 (5) m/s from NW (feels like -7). Whatchathink? The marina said: “Welcome”.
Bloody matured of them.
Poured a coupe and said that I’m sorry I’s sour the previous time.
A short discussion followed. I made my points, but accepted theirs. They own the enterprise, which wasn’t said. Bloody mature of them.
Took a sip from the coupe. Woosh… and got to hear that we’ll be paddling deeper into the fiord away from the open sea. Some places there are so shallow the kayak scraps the bottom: no rocks, no sea grass for the crustaceans to hide; no depth for small fishes to escape. Nothing to feed on for the next step of the food chain pyramid…
… and a couple of kilometres longer, than my usual route, which’s good, the days growing longer and all. And the very place I’ve seen my first sea star at. And a sea eagle. And enchantedly, Hänsel-und-Gretelly beautiful behind the turn island….
And no way for seeing a seal: too shallow for them.
I’ll always love you, my beautiful seal. As in Whitney Houston.
But I’m on.
Been and paddled: -5 (feels like -8), NW 3m/s, full sun shine. It can’t be better on the last day of January. A few strokes and you are gliding into vastness and stillness of the fjord, it’s only you and a few birds, who are still inhabiting the place. The mundane boredom of the past week – gone. The pain of the wrecked hip – gone. You made it again: you are on the water and moving and no one around…
…well, no one, except your companion, who fancies himself a singer and who happened to own the kayak, you are paddling in, and it all can go to hell any given moment, if you don’t contain yourself.
Which you usually do.
Success is not given. An obstacle is expected at every step of the enterprise: the garage door might get stuck so that you can’t manage it and there’s nothing else to do, but to abort the journey. The traffic might get stuck for so long, that there’s nothing else to do, but to abort the journey. The car is old, to put it mildly, so no comments. The ice at the perch might be too thick, that there’s nothing else to do, but to abort the paddling. Yes, you drove 110 km (the route includes a ferry) and there’s nothing else to do, but to turn around and go home. It is in the calculus and you’ve prepared to face it as a grown-up.
But when you made it and on… When you on the water and paddling… When you are already made the first third of the trip, just got that “at least!” feeling, when the tension started to seep off you and relaxation on its way… Your companion says: “There’s fog and we are to turn around and paddle as fast as possible to get from it.”
Wut? It’s a sea smoke, goossake man!, and there’s no wind, no waves, no boats and we have GPS in my mobile.
Goose – facking sake – and he insisted and I turned around.
The very first paddling that’s a complete disappointment. 7 km in 2 hours and I hated the last half of it. Pure primordial hate.
Saw a fox on the way back.
I don’t know what friendship means to you. I also don’t care. If somebody is to be a friend with me, it’s my definition of friendship that matters.
Never had a male friend. All my friends to the date were women.
I had male relatives, school-comrades, dates, lovers, husbands, colleagues, neighbours, acquaintances. Never friends.
When a man on a dating site expresses a wish to be friend with me in the initial message, I regard him as a left-behind in more than one sense of the word.
I’ve read somewhere (could be the Guardian), that forming a friendship takes from 100 to 400 hours of quality time spent together. Let’s do some mathematics and let’s take the minimum as a start.
Hence, we start with 100 hours of quality time. A show at the Opera takes ca 2 hours and we can meet a couple of hours before for dinner: makes 4 hours at a time. 100 / 4 = 25. A year has 52 weeks. I have my friend, whom I meet at least once a month, and I paddle every week-end, if weather allows. Additional hinder: opera and restaurants are quite costly in Sweden. The conclusion I landed at is that it could happen 5 times a year, if I really make a lot of efforts and sacrifices (any reason I’d want to?). Nonetheless, under the most favourable circumstances, It’d take 5 years to fulfill this minimum of 100 quality hours spent together. Chances are, that we might realise after all that time (and money) wasted, that we are not friends. (Quite a discovery, isn’t it?)
There is also a slim chance, that we’d discover that we are friends. Well, good! But a friend isn’t a date. So, my friend, you will not mind when I prefer going to a date instead of meeting you. None of my friends ever minded, so why would you?
A friend means loyalty and obligation of support, that you free-willingly accept because you like the person. Would you, please, explain me why a random male passer-by expects me to grant him loyalty and support on the first notice?
PS this subject was trigged by a Q-Anonist suggesting that he is my friend. Duh!
An ordinary gal.
Always try my best.
Romantic: treat a man to best of my ability. Can be sensitive. Not perfect, but a good person. Like to laugh and have fun.
You are to be booby rich...
**fell off the pin**
Sometimes you feel the smell first. Top note: a lot of freshly chopped cucumbers, base note: fish oil. And if you slowly circle the place, it just might to let you see it.
Sometimes you turn the corner and there it is: lying on a low stone, basking in the Novembrian drizzle, clapping itself on the stomach. You stare at each other for a moment, equally surprised by the encounter. You are exited as a child, your counterpart has “darn inconvenience” written all over its face. Then the elements draw your vessel away.
But sometimes you just feel the presence. Unexplainable. No smell, no sound, just presence. As if someone is staring at you. You turn around and yes, it is staring at you.
And it happens – you are tired, frozen and happy with the day, shoveling water all you can ‘coz the sun is setting and the marina called and inquired: “where are you?” – that it suddenly emerges in the front of your kayak and looks at you from five meters distance for long enough for you to take off the gloves, fish up the mobile from presumably waterproof bag and turn the camera on. At that point, it will close its finely outlined nostrils and large gorgeous eyes and submerge, no splash, no sound. Did it really happen?
Saw as well a sea-gull catching and carrying away a crustacean. Imagine: to experience flying before your death. If only everybody was that lucky!
When driving home had the newly born crescent in the right corner of my windscreen, thin and bright, for 20 minutes. Then the road turned.
Been and paddled on 24th of December.
Supposed to be a merry rainbow flotilla of five kayaks, mais none. Only us two chickens, boss… well, not really, as the third chicken found us in the middle of the fjord to tell us that she’s in hurry and merry-christmas-off-I-go.
But never mind.
People - the bathing people, see - took pictures of us, imagine :)
My companion is known to fancy himself as a singer, so singing he did. It was as paddling with a radio on. Nothing you can do about, only to endure and wait for the better. In the end, he kindly asked what song I liked better. I honestly answered: the last one. I didn’t say, that I liked it because I thought it was the last one – I’d like any last song per default (that’s the major feature of mine) – it’s being Christmas and all – and immediately I’s rewarded by the repeating of the favourite. You like it or not.
None the less.
The bleak sun of Scandinavian winter painted the tops of the low hills in peach-pink: you could eat it with a tea spoon.
On the way home, had Orion plastered across my windscreen for 20 min: bright stars sending their light through brazillions of time and space units to humour me…
….then the road turned.
This is a list of Tulefell's Blogs. Click here for Tulefell's Blog List
Tulefell Blog (40)