The Cutty Sark, Greenwich London - Photograph - Alden Smith
Any sailor worth his sea boots and his medicinal purposes only hip flask of rum, knows that when she starts taking it green over the bows and the spindrift starts flying, you turn your pipe upside down and suck harder. This keeps the tobacco in and the embers alight! Its really just a question of common sense and basic physics. Sailors are full of common sense and Triston Jones was a sailor with a good understanding of the physics and agelessness of wind propulsion. This is what he said about the world and its reliance on oil.
"I can't wait for the oil wells to run dry, for the last gob of black, sticky muck to come oozing out of some remote well. Then the glory of sail will return." - Triston Jones
You know as well as I do shipmates that this desire flies as high as a warm wind filled spinnaker in the hearts of those who love sail. When peoples faces appear gloomy at the words 'Peak Oil' we smile a smile as broad as the Mississippi in full flood. Aye, its an ill wind that blows no one any good and what's blowing a cold blast around the smelly empty tanks of noisy petrol heads is blowing a warm trade wind song around the poetic hearts of sailors. The beauty and strength of this lyrical wind shipmates is that it is free, just as its always been.
Any sailor worth his sea boots and his medicinal purposes only hip flask of rum, knows that when she starts taking it green over the bows and the spindrift starts flying, you turn your pipe upside down and suck harder. This keeps the tobacco in and the embers alight! Its really just a question of common sense and basic physics. Sailors are full of common sense and Triston Jones was a sailor with a good understanding of the physics and agelessness of wind propulsion. This is what he said about the world and its reliance on oil.
"I can't wait for the oil wells to run dry, for the last gob of black, sticky muck to come oozing out of some remote well. Then the glory of sail will return." - Triston Jones
You know as well as I do shipmates that this desire flies as high as a warm wind filled spinnaker in the hearts of those who love sail. When peoples faces appear gloomy at the words 'Peak Oil' we smile a smile as broad as the Mississippi in full flood. Aye, its an ill wind that blows no one any good and what's blowing a cold blast around the smelly empty tanks of noisy petrol heads is blowing a warm trade wind song around the poetic hearts of sailors. The beauty and strength of this lyrical wind shipmates is that it is free, just as its always been.
1 comment:
Yes yes yes! I harbour (heh) a picture in my head of fabulous tea-clippers plying the coast of New Zealand - mail, fresh tea, coffee, chocolate and spices (from Northland of course) to Tauranga, Napier, Wellington and points south...
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