The Grass

so it's april now, and in Maine that means the beginning of spring. and the beginning of spring in Maine means one or two more snowstorms of winter. but, knock on wood, i think we've gotten past those last few winter weathers and should be able to take "spring" seriously now.

been working. sitting on my ass in an office. getting paid. paying bills. trying to, anyway. this off-season has seen me in a couple temp jobs. neither of them very fun, or extremely lucrative and pretty far from satisfying. did some temp work for Leon Leonwood and met some nice people there. but in this current job, i might venture to say the most satisfying part is when the paycheck comes in. pretty sure that's it. but i'm not here to complain. the grass is always greener on the other side of the street.

maybe it's about sacrifices. i have a shitty job, but i get to see my friends all week long. pretty damn hard to catch a trout in Maine in february, but i get to ride around on snowmobiles on the ice and eat breakfast sandwiches in an ice shack. ain't no ice fishing in New Zealand in february. i said it before, but whenever you do one thing, you're not doing another. that's obvious, but i think about it. too much maybe.

maybe i've been daydreaming too much. my "to-go-to" list is the longest it has ever been. thing about that grass is that you don't get no home, no neighbors, no local pizza shop and bartender who knows your name. get that apartment and you can't fish a new river, can't drive a new road, can't put any checks on that list, every day. stay on the road and watch that bank account drop. stay put and wish you didn't.

so where's the compromise? i want it all! i want a trout stream out back that i can fish every evening. i want a week-long vacation every other week, a six-month adventure every year. i want everyone i know and love within an hour. i want a house. i want an old friend in every city i've never been to. i want a campervan. i want a fat paycheck. i want the grass i got and that grass over there.

only one thing on that list i can't get. so what good is wanting it, when i can't have it? shit, i want to be in the NBA but it just ain't happening. guess i should be more thankful of the grass i do have. it's pretty nice grass.

t-minus a month and Loocoos and i roll west. might go a little south first though. then lucas is headed up to AK for the summer and i'm headed back to the 4UR and Goose Creek. yea, lookin' forward to that grass, boy. got my boy Chrismass playin in town this weekend and i'm gonna shake what my momma gave me. got some homecooked dinner with some friends tonight. got me a good forecast and some lines to wet on saturday. got me a week before i dance with some big fish down Florida way. got me some good grass here.

and whad'ya know, there's even some Grass outside!

camp

i had the great pleasure of being a guest at my good friend Patty's camp recently. it's a half mile off the closest plowed road, so four of us snowshoed ourselves in, along with enough food and drink for dinner, the evening, breakfast and the morning.

Camp Maine sits atop a small hill overlooking Seven Mile Stream, the outlet of Webber Pond. i am told the smallmouth fishing in the stream can be fantastic. i will return in future, warmer months and lazily cast poppers from a canoe with Pat. been a while since i chugged some poppers for smallies.
i have been to a handful of camps in Maine over the years and i am drawn to them. most of the ones i've been to are within eyeshot of fishy water, so maybe as i try to describe what "camp" means to me, i'll start there. camp is a place, away from home, to frolick in the outdoors. most often, at least in Maine, the prominent outdoor activities are fishing or hunting, but there's no reason why any camp-goer can do whatever they want - fish, hunt, hike, swim, sun bathe, or stay inside and read. i'll go ahead and add that to my definition: camp is a place where you can do whatever you want.

i know people who go to camp, their greatest desire to cook for everyone else at camp. some go to camp to work on camp, while others go to camp and spend nearly every minute of daylight in the area around camp. whatever the actual motivating activity may be, whenever it's done, camp is there for food, spirits, conversation and rest.

most camps, at least the ones i've been in, have a lot in common as far as their construction, contents and therefore their overall atmosphere. wood is the dominant construction material. there's a porch. there are bunks, a fireplace and comfortable chairs. there are also a lot of shelves and drawers where things are stored. a lot of these 'things' are pretty old. they've been around camp for a while - and not necessarily this camp, but a camp. the things in camp are there because they need to be. that is to say, they are used. there's not a lot of things that sit on shelves and collect dust, the main reason being there isn't a lot of shelf space, the underlying one being that camp is not about living superfluously. there are tools, cooking utensils, a deck of cards and a cribbage board, a radio, some books, fishing and hunting gear, a journal; simple things. because of the simplicity of the things you find in camp, it follows that what goes on at camp is pretty simple: sleep, recreation, consumption, conversation.

and what else do you really need?

"Israel is 4 ballerz son!"*

(above, Negev Desert. below, The Old City)

i was very fortunate to have the opportunity to take a trip to Israel this winter. the closest i had ever been to the middle east was the Czech Republic in college. to say that it's a different world is perhaps both accurate and obvious at the same time. i didn't much of an idea what Israeli geography looked like, and as it turned out, i hadn't seen anything close to a lot of what i did see. it seems that the more places i see, the more times i can make comparisons between places, but there are also more times where it's undeniable that what i'm looking at i have never seen before. that's a pretty cool feeling.

instead of write a day-by-day synopsis, i'll just give some thoughts and stories. the pictures aren't in any sort of order, except the one i gave them.

(above, Negev Desert)

so i took my Birthright trip and as such, i was with a group of 40 Americans, 2 group leaders, 1 Israeli tour guide, 1 Israeli guard and also 8 young Israelis - 5 soldiers and 3 students. quite a crew! the dynamics of being on a "tour" are a completely different discussion that i'll leave out of here, but it did allow us to cover a vast amount of ground and see a quantity of sights that i might not have seen were i on my own schedule.

(above, Dead Sea)

for me, the most culturally foreign thing that hit me was the presence of war and conflict. to say that the Middle East has a history of conflict is certainly an understatement and an obvious one at that, but for me, an admitted often passer-by of current events and news, it was an eye opener. in every town or city we passed, we saw Israeli soldiers on guard, or on the move, each with an M-16 over their shoulder. Yossi, our guard carried a rifle wherever we went. the majority of historical sites or sights we went to/saw carried with them a story of conflict. Israel keeps a watchful eye on current events in Egypt.

the road above was the beginning to a canyon hike we did in the Golan Heighs. abutting this road on either wide are Syrian landmine fields.

(above, Sea of Galilee. below, pre-Shabbat market in Jerusalem)

(above, farm fence in the north. below, view through old Syrian bunker)

above, the ancient fortress Masada. of all the history and information we were presented with at this site, i'd like to share one bit about desert warfare. the desert can be a horribly intolerable place, but if you've got water and food, you're set. so if you can keep enough water and food for yourself then the desert becomes your enemy's enemy.

(Bedouin camels)

while milling around in Tel Aviv one afternoon, Roz, one of the Israeli soldiers with us approached me and asked if i was cold in my shorts and sandals. i explained how the weather in Maine was and how grateful i was to be in the sun and 60+ degree weather. she shivered in her fatigues. we shared brief life stories, talking about travel and school and work. at the end of mine she said, "you don't look like someone who works in an office." why thank you.

while on a hike, i was talking with Amir, one of the Israeli soldiers who had joined us. he asked me how i was liking Israel. i immediately said that it was great - i was loving the scenery and also the weather, as i had been wearing shorts, sandals and a t-shirt for most of the trip. Amir responded and said, "This is the Holy Land, you never know what each day will bring." dumb tourist that i am, i nodded my head and was about to tell him about how variable weather in Maine can be, when he finished his sentence: "...war or peace."


*text message received from the big man on the eve of departure

happnin'

seeing as this web-log has been fairly inactive as of late, i reckon it's about time to give an update on what's been happnin'. settled down for a minute here in portland, finding a home with a good friend from Belfast and Bates. good times on Emery Street, yet again.

i will be heading back to the 4UR in May and looking forward to it as well. i just can't seem to get fish and water out of my head. so that's a good thing. been getting my fix on the Mousam here and there and after a successful outing on the Royal, i'll be investigating those waters a little more as well.

the job "market" in Portland is a little discouraging to say the least. this off-season seasonal work thing will perhaps require a little more forethought in the future. what it is.

my itchy feet got a little scratching in the past couple weeks though. more on that to come.

at any rate, hello, SeektheFreed lives on, please keep stopping by!

-j

Time

i guess it's been a solid month since i composed anything. time has passed. things have happened, like they always do. hello!

so i moved into an apartment in Portland. and whad'ya know, it's on good 'ol Emery st. so that makes the 3rd apartment on one street. 73, 85 and now 91 Emery. more on that later. but for now, a poem by a good friend, written on the banks of the Rio Grande.

He said his watch was too big for his wrist,
Kept sliding back and forth and back.
Every time he raised a hand to wave hello,
cast a line while he was fishing-
Even just flipping over a pillow at night,
that watch was always moving
And chafing across his skin.

Once he tole me that it bothered him,
All that back and forth of the watch,
So I said, Well why don't you just make it
Tighter, then you won't even notice it there.

But I knew he'd keep it loose
Cuz really it's about feeling those moments
On his skin.
That watch, always moving, always reminding
Him that time is just slightly big
So really, he should always feel it passing.

fishing along the way...

10/14 - 10/17: Western North Carolina





10/18 - 10/20: Charleston, South Carolina
10/21 - 10/24: Atlantic Beach, North Carolina


10/28 - 10/31: Pulaski, New York


11/2 - 11/4: Southern Maine

the coming home of the son and brother

after four weeks exactly on the road, the son arrived at home. a solid trip, to say the least. the final tour: ranch - austin - shreveport - atlanta - anderson, sc - cashiers, nc - charleston, sc - atlantic beach, nc - anderson - brooklyn - pulaski - arlington - lincoln - portland - home.
above, thoreau's jam.
my roadmate, Southern Steele, captain of Southern Justice, and i parted ways at logan int'l last week. it had been a good run for us. shame on me for not keeping a journal this summer, but if Boone and i weren't on the water 7 days a week, it was 6. if there was ever a common thread to make a friendship, i think the water is it. triumphs and failures bring people together, as do fish in the net. see ya soon, boy.
rolled north and west out of the big city and in a cozy cabin in upstate new york, the reunion i had been waiting for for months awaited. the steele brothers in full were there, not to mention my brother from down under. 7 of us in total took the the Salmon River early every day. in those waters, we would find large trout. in the cabin we would find stories and laughs. a fishing trip of the finest kind.
arrived in Portland early this week, gathered a few friends and made our way to Ruski's, my local watering hole for three years when i lived there. waitress arrived and asked for drink orders. beers, please. "i need id's from you three, but i know you," she said, looking at me. i hadn't been in this bar but one time in the last year and she still recognized me. if that's not a home bar, i'm not sure i know what one is. that was nice. i was able to get reacquainted with a couple waters around Portland while i was there and that was nice as well. Mousamus giveth and while the Presumpscot didn't allow for any "catching," i ran into a few guys on the stream that i knew and had a little reunion with those fellers too.

so. now what. i will make a half-year home in Portland. i will work. apparently this is easier said than done, as craigslist is being a little fickle for me. ol' craig has been real good to me over the past year, so i guess i'm due for some frustration. alas, it will work out. seems like it always does. "something will happen," that's for sure. looking forward to a home base though. it's nice to have the same bed for more than 2 or 3 nights at once. it's nice not to sometimes, but it's nice to sometimes as well. so i made it, back to the motherland. glad to be back. i hope everyone's well. holler at me and let's hang the hell out! see ya soon!