Hiatus

Sometimes I think of myself as a writer, sometimes as a photographer.  Yet the truth is I’m a professional student—at least Humdrum is.  Trixsay is often inspired by the results of Humdrum’s efforts.

My problem is that studying takes time—productive time unfettered by fibro and RA fatigue or by chores like doing the laundry and shopping for groceries.  At most I have two to four hours of free productive time a day.

With that time, I want to learn about travel writing.  As my cameras shrink in size due to my diminishing strength and my time in the field shooting shrinks correspondingly, I want to expand the writing I do.  I can write on my laptop or in my i-PAD or with a pencil, or I can dictate into a recorder.  I want to take notes while we travel on photo-shoots, then structure the notes into stories—creative non-fiction essays and stories—travel writing.

For example, you’ve read the two posts I wrote about our Brazil trip.  What you didn’t see was

• A Franciscan monk meditating on scriptures as birds fed on the seeds he’d scattered.  

• Or my spouse giving the guide one end of his walking stick before he unwittingly slid down into the water.  To free his hands and help himself out, my spouse let go of his end.  The guide fell backwards onto high ground waving the stick at the sun.  

• Or me sitting in the back of a boat trying to see jaguars through man-sized bodies while under strict orders not to stand up.  (I obeyed because if I fell into the river, I might well feed the piranhas.)  

So much of that story has yet to be told.  So much of the story cannot be seen solely through the photos we took or the poems I wrote.

I am going to suspend this blog until the first of the year (2016) so that I can study travel writing from themes to voice.  I want to organize my memories using our photos as reminders of earlier stories, to list the reasons people travel, and to study how to write personal essays.  Finally, I want to study how other writers incorporate these facets into their travel pieces.

Early next year we’re going to India and later to the Louisiana bayous.  I want to be ready to write those travel stories.

☻ Happy Holidays ☻

Swimmingly*

Holy guacamole, what was that?  I’m being sloshed around down here like undies in a washer.  Now it’s too dark to see.  What the hell happened to the sunlight?  Is there a storm?

I’m gonna to turn on my headlamp so I can count those damned taco trout and get out of here.  What? There it goes again—that sloshing.

Hey, are you guys listening to me?  What in hell’s name are you doing anyway?  Is this some kind of prank?

It feels like the pressure is increasing, like I’m being sucked down to the bottom.  What kind of fucking whirlpool forms in muddy lake?

There, there’s a light.  Looks like a line, like it might be coming through a big florescent tube.  I’m going to see what’s up.  Maybe a meteor’s struck or something.

*     *     *

Had to drop my weights to get up here.  The light is seeping through a slit.  I seem to be in some kind of tank.  Or maybe I’ve been swallowed by a whale.  Maybe the damned thing’s trying to suck me down into its gullet.  A whale in fresh water?

There is an air pocket up here.  I’m going to take off my mask and drop my tank so I’ll be out of touch for a minute.

*     *     *

Cough!  Hack!  Hack!  Holy guacamole, it’s smoke.  I must be close to a forest fire.

Just a minute while I get my tank back on and my mask secured.

*     *     *

That’s better.  I can breathe.  I think I’ve been skimmed off with water to fight that fire.  Am I going to be dumped?  Holy cayenne guacamole!

There’s no way to get to the plane or chopper or whatever from inside here.  I tried when swam up to the slit.  Couldn’t get more than my neck out of the water and the sides of the, the bag are too slimy up there to hang onto.  I couldn’t pull myself out.

I could try again, but why?  If the smoke doesn’t get me, the fire will.  If the fire doesn’t get me, the trees will.  And if the trees don’t get me, that hard ground will.

So I guess I’ll just have to tell you guys my last will and testament—and it doesn’t have anything to do with trout except that there are at least three swimming around in here with me on their way to the same frying pan.

Hell, my tank is running low.  So here it is: I bequeath to you guys all the damned enchiladas.  They’re in the fridge.

Tell Maria I love her.  I should have asked her to marry me last Sunday, but I got cold feet.

Wonder if I could use this wet suit as a parachute—Wait?!  HOOOOLY GUACAMOOOLE!!

*    *     *

Hello.  Are you reading me?  I think I’m hung up on a lodgepole pine.  My tank seems to be caught on a branch.  There’s more smoke than fire here, thank God.  Steamy smoke.

Forget that bit about Maria.  I’ll tell her myself.

END

*Writing suggestion #2:

News stories can inspire a story like this one which originated with a newspaper clipping I misplaced some time ago—but it made an impression on me.

Sunrise from Sea of Cortez
by Jeter Skeet

Landshape

Giant Anteater
by Jeter Skeet

Landshape, the physics

of curves and parabolas carved 

by wind and rain—

Landshape, grassy highland savannas south of the Amazon jungles in Brazil,

A giant anteater

licks her way across what was 

once a lush pastureland.

Through binoculars, a local guide spots her for visitors from foreign lands.

The Landshape sings a 

subconscious siren song in

dry photographers,

a lullaby for the newborn riding side-saddle on his mother’s back.

The baby bounces riding 

across the Landshape, scalloped by 

treeless hills and deep ravines.

The distance is far, further than the leader wishes to walk across an unkempt savanna.  But a promising treasure—pixilated memories of these unique creatures—makes the risk worth the taking.  

The Landshape bathes 

them in winter’s warm sunlight so

near the equator—

and so they begin their journey with hope, and determination, and eyes to the ground.  Dormant grasses hide irregularities along the route.  

For Landshape, time means

little more than the change in

angles of sunlight.

Some photographers stay behind in the van waiting not too patiently for a closer and more cooperative anteater.  Time creeps as their colleagues disappear over the rim. 

The Landshape disguises

their view with tawny grasses

and weedy flowers.

The adventurers stop to find the best place to cross a mercurial ravine.  

Slurries of soil and flowing 

water offer uncertain support  

for shifting mats of grass.

The guide probes and sinks.  He pulls himself toward the opposite side of the ravine while the rest decide whether to venture across or turn and go back.

The Landshape reveals the

anteater working her way toward 

higher ground with ease.

Leaving her camera behind, the leader climbs out of the water onto a small island midway across.

A conveyer belt of 

outstretched arms hand camera gear from

tourists to leader to guide.

On higher ground, a retreating photographer pauses to take videos of the crossings.

The Landshape changes, 

an easy way down into a

strenuous way up.

Those who stayed behind ask, “What happened?”  The videographer prefers to show them the raw footage.

If Landshape could grin

it would look like a ravine buried in grass 

and awash in water.

Giant Anteater with Offspring
by Jeter Skeet

Wildlife Photography

On To Brazil

Who rents a scooter to see the animals in a zoo?  I do.  Who walks on wooded trails, on its ups and downs, with a walking cane?  I do.  Who is left at home while the spouse goes on a wildlife photoshoot in Australia.   Me, but that’s not unusual.  I want it to be that way even though I am jealous.  I just can’t keep up with healthy photographers, and they don’t need me slowing them down.  Besides my spouse needs a break from helping me.

So now that my love has flown halfway around the world, I’m going to post a couple of pieces with photos from our Brazil trip.  In the meantime I’ll refocus on my everyday life and writing—and try to ignore my envy and wanderlust.

    Wildlife Photography

    A Maned Wolf receives a blessing

at an ancient monastery.

   A newborn rides her Giant Anteater mother

across a highland savanna.

Clever Brown Capuchins create 

their own crosswalk.

A South American Tapir swims 

across a peaceful river.

  An Amazon Kingfisher races

our speeding boat.

   A Jabaru protects her eggs warming 

in a treetop nest.

   A fish jumps to avoid a Speckled Caiman 

and lands in our boat.

  A Giant Otter hides in a den

beneath a hungry Jaguar.

   A Black-Tufted Marmoset looks down

at me while I look up,

   And I feel like I’m trying to capture

rainbows in a butterfly net.

Giant River Otter  and Jaguar
by Jeter Skeet

A hungry jaguar smells the giant river otter in the den beneath him.

DSS Part 8: Unusual Perspectives

African Elephant Watches her Trunk (T)
by Jeter Skeet

Plains Zebra (T)
by Jeter Skeet

What is it like visually to be part of a zebra herd?  Confusing?

Hammercop Reflection (T)
by Jeter Skeet

Panther Cameleon's Tail (R)
by Jeter Skeet

Montezuma's Oropendola (CR)
by Jeter Skeet

Birds like dogs will shake off the rain.

Sunset Reveals Landscape's Pattern (T)
by Jeter Skeet

DSS Part 7: Landscapes

Klipspringer on Top of his World (T)
by Jeter Skeet

Hippos Feeding in Ngorongoro Crater (T)
by Jeter Skeet

Cheetah Silhouetted at Sunset (T)
by Jeter Skeet

Blue Moon (T)
by Jeter Skeet

Surprise, the rim of the moon is not smooth.

DSS Part 6: Mammals

Africian Lions (T)
by Jeter Skeet

In a great expanse of savanna with one tree in the middle, two lions find some shade from the sun.  This
may be a rare paring that occurs when a male has been supplanted.  An older female who is no longer
fertile may leave the pride to be with him.  They are looking in opposite directions for safety and to spot a source of food.

Young Defender (T)
by Jeter Skeet

This young fellow is growling at us because we apparently are multi-eyed, metallic dragons.

To Thieve from a Thief (T)
by Jeter Skeet

A black-back jackal is following a spotted hyena who has snatched a gnu skull from a lion kill.

Follow the Leader (T)
                                                  by Jeter Skeet                                                     

Wildebeests or Gnu form the great herds that migrate across the Serengeti Plains. It’s estimated that there are about 3,000,000 Gnus in these herds.

Synchronized Diving (T)
by Jeter Skeet

The great herds of Wildebeests form bottlenecks at river crossings, especially at the Mara River.

Chaos in the River (T)
by Jeter Skeet

During one crossing we saw a Nile Crocodile take one of the Wildebeests.