Day Four Hundred Forty Nine #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Heavy rains moved in today. The Captain’s concern grew when the wind picked up. He ordered the ship underway after a thorough checking of the lashings. In charge of that detail, Tomas had some of them doubled.

I watched from the bridge as the shoreline slid by. Elijah pointed out the rickety staircase by which we climbed up off the beach. The wind then died and a mist settled in along the coast of the island.

We were no sooner into the channel between the island and the mainland when the wind freshened. And within seconds day turned to blackened night and the wind mounted in ferocity.

The Captain commanded the ship about and we sailed away from our destination.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Eight #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We are making much better progress. The road keeps within a stone’s throw of the cliff edge as it runs its course, passing a whole series of widely spaced villas. Noticeably it passes by those properties built on points of land that jut out towards the sea. Points that often cut off our advance when below on the beach and held us up until the tide retreated.

We have yet to encounter anyone on the road. Elijah thinks that everyone from out this way has moved into the city. The properties seem all well kept and cared for, so if Elijah is correct it could only have happened recently.

We picked up the pace upon sighting the ship in harbor.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

At long last we found a way up off of the beach.

It was during one of our down times. Elijah sat facing the ocean while communing with the One. I found a rivulet that sank into the sand before reaching the sea and followed it back in hopes that it would lead to an opening in the cliff wall. Or perhaps even a valley that could carry us into the interior.

Instead its source was a pool at the foot of the rock wall, fed by a waterfall down its face.

And running parallel to it was a rickety stairway structure. I clambered to the top and there, sitting abandoned was a lovely villa.

I ran to fetch Elijah.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Five #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

A tantalizing sight within our prospect, the island’s port city in its glass and steel grandeur, but at the same time we are sobered by the zig-zagging coastline between us and it. It goes on forever and ever.

I take the opportunity here and there to push in off of the beach to look for any means by which to scale to the heights above us.

I returned from one such foray to an excited Elijah. He had spotted a ship underway off the coast. A ship that he is certain is the one that carried us across the other ocean.

It seems more important than ever that we find a way up the cliffs that hem us in.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Three #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

An interruption in the night (that is, the incoming tide) chased us further up the beach.

Upon dropping us off yesterday, the fisherman pointed west to indicate in which direction the island’s port city lay. So we set our sights to explore that quarter.

So far we have encountered no roads, and any and all paths have only led us up against a high wall of rock.

The lingering fog hides the features of the surrounding area. We can only surmise that this beach is hemmed in by the sea and the towering cliffs of the mainland, and hence the beach itself is our only available pathway.

Every so often the fog rises and we see ships in the distance.

Day Three Hundred Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

But the hail did not spare those surrounding us. To the last man they were swept away or crushed under boulders of ice.

And there is no sign of Stan. Elijah is sure he is well away from the city. I am sure we have not seen the last of him.

We made it down to the dockside where our vessel had previously berthed. Another was is its place, its back broken, as though dropped from the sky too.

Our ship rode at anchor still out in the roads. Elijah observed me watching it, then took me in tow.

We rounded some buildings and climbed down to the beach.

From there I followed Elijah as we walked to our ship.

Photos at my Feet

My wife thinks I take the oddest photos. (Actually I prefer video, but she thinks that’s odd too). There are times that I am arrested by a particular view. She refers to those shots that I snap of the sights that appear on the ground before me.

We recently delighted ourselves with a walk on the beach in Lincoln City, OR. My wife, with her steady hand caught these views:

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I shot some video. Later, when the camera was in her hands again, I saw these views and whipped out my iPod to capture them:

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Maybe sometime soon I’ll share my shots of the floors at the Louvre.