Wednesday, 25 November 2015
Wet Hell Hounds chasing, by Stevie sleepy Haston.
Flat as a duck pond yesterday when I stripped one of my projects, today I couldn't get to another, lost a stack of gear I imagine.
I was so pleased with myself yesterday, got my gear, didn't think the wind would shift all over the place! You can never trust the sea, that is why, she is a she.
I love hanging out on this bar, its my favourite hang, in a rough sea you wrap your arms around the railings and hang on, I really mean hang on. The weight of the water hits you from above, and pushes you down, then it shifts, and buffets and tries to rip you off the walk way.
This is the arch, the window we call it locally in our Arab speech, people come to jump off it, one died recently. To jump off it today would be a bit more interesting I think. Potential warring politicians should be dangled on a rope till they forsake punitive strikes and just want to be pulled back from the brink of Hell. Peace, hope you enjoyed the photos. My camping devices, nuts and gear and various routes are now defunct, need some more, I guess. The push towards Berlin must continue.