Vintage Era Voyages: you don't need a ticket to travel back in time.
The View from the Sails
I feel the ocean calling out to me, inviting me to be one with it, and I accept its invitation as I walk into the water. I remove my nightgown and throw it into the air above my head.
The Boy Who Never
Day 44 out of Le Havre began hot and slow, with almost no wind and Victory picking up an uncomfortable sloshing that threatened to make Hannah and little Bertie sick again. Her son Willy, on the other hand, was by now an old hand in the rigging, and with his keen young eyesight, he was often ordered to the maintop to watch for islands and shallows. A low bank of far-off clouds came ever closer, and the wind began to build. Soon Victory was flying down the waves, in her element. Captain Anderson had the helm in hand, and he looked perfectly happy there, severe and alert, with smiling eyes.
The History Of Rideau Canal
It's an absolute necessity feature of the colder time of year season in Ottawa. It's the world's biggest skating arena and in 2007 it was assigned an UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Once upon a Samurai in Mexico… as well as Cuba, Spain, France and eventually Italy
Imagine the sun caressing your skin as you relax on a towel draped over the warm sand on the beach of Acapulco, Mexico. All around you are restaurants cooking traditional Mexican dishes and vendors selling handmade trinkets you can take home as souvenirs or decorations. A truly beautiful and serene place to be. But as you walk along the streets of Acapulco, something catches your eye. A large sign with Japanese characters in the middle, and two large words on either side of it: Plaza Japón, which translates to Japan Plaza.
The Path of the Shield
Irwin Molasky hung up the phone, perplexed. Why should a simple land purchase be so mysterious? It was 1963, and land deals were pretty simple in Las Vegas. Seldom were principals out of town, much less out of the Country. But this one was different. And it would be the biggest deal Irwin had done yet.
For What It's Worth
For What It’s Worth One swift kick from a spiteful mule was about to propel Jonathan and his father toward the new century and change the trajectory of everything. In less than a second, Jonathan was no longer standing on his own feet. He was shot through the air and careening, with a stream of water arcing high overhead. He never let go of the bucket as he was thrown ten feet back and into a heap. In five breaths he asserted that he was in fact breathing, was now someplace else, on the ground, and the pain began to run through him. Trickling like water, and searing hot, spreading, through his whole body. A body that was still too young to understand that this injury would leave him changed. His leg twisted in an unfamiliar way toward the house and then he was screaming.
NINE NIGHTS TO SEA
I barely make it before he starts. The answering machine clicks over as the floor’s coolness seeps through my pjs. He always starts haphazardly, like he’s not sure he should leave a message. I sip my wine, letting his familiar tenor envelope me. The only embrace of his I still allow myself. “Hi Freya. I uh hope this finds you well,” scoff. “Think I’ve convinced myself if I keep calling you’ll eventually answer. Till then I just call to hear your voice on the message.” I take a bigger drink as the usual pause comes up. My chance to pick up. My palm itches, my chest aches. Instead I rest my head against the table. He sighs. “I love you Frey. Never forget.” Feeling moisture on my cheeks, I give into the pain. Just for tonight. Seeing all the young people at work just makes me feel old, in more ways than one. I shake my head as I slip behind the counter. I lose myself in the rhythm of drink mixing; espresso, milk, syrup, whip cream, etc. It takes me a minute to realize its my name being called. “Frey-a!” “Yeah?” My boss does the old school hand gesture for phone. “Call for you.” I take the phone offered. My mind is racing. There’s only one person who would try to find me. His time was last night though. “Freya Mar?” “Yes?” “Were you married to David Gordon?” Ice courses through my veins. Its been years since I heard his name, since the word marriage was used in reference to me. Ten years to be exact. My silence gives him the go ahead. “I’m sorry to tell you, he’s passed away.” I don’t remember closing myself in the storage room. Now I slide down against the door, my knees too weak. “What?” I breathe. The sympathy oozes from his unfamiliar voice. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.” “What…what happened?” “He was fighting cancer.” My heart drops. While I had run as fast and far as I could, he had been dying. His very body deteriorating. I suddenly can’t catch my breath. He pauses then starts again. “Going about this backwards I apologize. I’m Arthur Dougal, his lawyer and estate executor. He’s requested you be present for the reading of his will.” I sink against the door. “Of course. I’ll be on the next flight out.” Time to stop running. I can’t resist. The waves kiss my feet. Enticing then withdrawing. Beckoning me in. It’s been so long. Too long. I sway forward, then back. It’s not the same now, nothing is. “Miss Mar?” I open my eyes when his shadow falls over me. “Freya.” I correct. He’s what I expect of a lawyer. Clean cut, fitted suit. Dress shoes despite the sand. I look away to hide my grin. Remembering what brought me back steals it. I shake his offered hand, slipping my sandals back on. “I’m new to lawyers but didn’t expect the meeting to occur on the beach.” He’s rueful. “I agree it is a bit out of the norm, however so was my client.” “That’s very true.” I mumble. He gestures ahead. “Shall we?” I look over, stopping short at a remembered structure. “The lighthouse.” He looks back. “You remember it?” I’m at a loss. “I mean I knew it had been in his family but I didn’t know he kept it….all this time.” He takes the lead at the stairs. The weathered wood is warm beneath my palm. “It’s tied to your part of the will.” “Ok…” “You want to step inside?” I feel this chill run down my spine. I can’t pinpoint what from though. I hug myself. “I’d rather not. Is it okay to stay out here instead?” He gives me a look, but lowers himself to the worn glider on the porch. “No problem,” He pulls a folder from his briefcase. “In accordance with his will he’s left his fortune to you with a few stipulations if you will.” “Stipulations as in?” “He also left you this property. However both are contingent on you spending nine nights-” I stiffen. “Nine nights?” This garners another look. With a shrug. “Yes. He was very specific. Nine nights spent here and after that both it and the money are yours free and clear.” I can’t meet his gaze. “And if it doesn’t happen?” He looks at the document, verifying what it says. “If the requested time isn’t met then everything is forfeited and the state will take possession of both property and assets if no next of kin can be found.” “He’s the last of his family line as far as I know.” I look to the ocean. “What happened to his body?” He sighs. “He requested to be cremated and placed in his family tomb.” My chest tightens. “Why me.” I whisper. He’s closer than I thought. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot at once.” I laugh though there’s no humor in it. “I’m sure you’re wondering why he pins all this on his separated wife of 10 years.” “I’m not here to pass judgment.” I meet his gaze. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have an opinion.” He sighs, putting the paperwork away. “I got the impression he didn’t have a lot of people he trusted. I don’t know what happened with your marriage, but it seems there was still a lot of love there. On his end anyway.” My chest aches, eyes burning. On both ends I almost admit. I stand, wringing my chilled hands. I stare toward the ocean. It suddenly just all feels like too much. I need space. Time to think, process, decompress. I don’t hear him move but suddenly I feel his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll give you some time. The doors unlocked and the keys with my card are on the front table. Let me know if you have any questions.” Lump in throat, all I can do is nod. He takes his leave and I’m left to my memories. It wouldn’t stop running through my mind. Nine nights, nine nights. How did he know of the significance of that? What had I missed? I’ve been packing my hotel room though slower than necessary. I dread staying at the lighthouse. Though I’m still unsure why. Call it a gut feeling. Though I move my luggage, I don’t last more than a few minutes in the lighthouse. Whatever feeling I have had from the beginning became even more oppressive once I was inside. I wander the town, heading nowhere in particular. Just trying to distance myself from my thoughts, memories. David. There’s never been a day I haven’t thought of him in 10 years, but being here, it was almost like he was next to me. I’m contemplating heading back when I see it. The Selkie: bar and grill. Beneath the name there’s a woman standing on a rock with seals frolicking at her feet. I’m baffled. But I can’t resist a peak inside. Past happy hour its sparsely filled. I head to the bar, taking in all the sea themed décor. Emphasis on seals. “What can I get you?” I turn to the bartender. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned skin. The epitome of a surfer washed ashore. “Tequila on the rocks please.” “What do you think?” “Of?” He gestures with the tequila bottle. “The theme, décor, etc.” I snort. “It’s definitely a first for me. Unique theme to pick.” He shrugs. “It’s compelling folklore and its good for tourism. They love all that what if?” I tip my drink in thanks. “True. You believe in the stories?” He wipes down the bar. “I didn’t say that. But it’s interesting. The owner was convinced his ancestor had an interaction with one, hence the bar theme.” “Ah.” “What about you? You a believer?” “I believe in what I can see and touch. Experience.” “Touché,” A commotion at the front door cuts him off. I glance over my shoulder. There’s now a group of women entering. Though nothing unique in particular, they seem to put out this untouchable aura. Almost dangerous. Whether intentional or not the rest of the patrons give them a wide berth. Guys giving longing looks while girls are more scathing. I don’t know them, but there’s still a feeling of familiarity. One girl catches my eye. Black cornrows cross her head and her eyes are almost unnaturally green. Sea glass green. I can tell she feels it too. She smirks. “Hey.” I nod. “Hi.” They pass the bar, instead heading to a tall table in the back. “It’s that time again.” The bartender mumbles. I turn back. “Pardon?” He looks rueful. “Every few nights a group of them come in and ten to one there’s some kind of altercation involving them before the nights over.” “How often? Do they come in a mean?” “Every 8-9 days? It’s always the same. Can’t get too mad though, they are really good tippers.” Suddenly all I can smell is the ocean. Cool and salty. My chest aches. I down my drink before setting some cash on the table. “Thank you. Hopefully its an uneventful night tonight.” He winks. “Well not sure I want that.” I chuckle heading out. Time to face the music. I take a deep breath as I enter the lighthouse. I left the light on by the front door. Given I didn’t go in any farther, it’s the only light in a sea of darkness. On the table I find the business card from the lawyer. Next to it is a small, black book. The note on the cover says: Maybe this will have the answers you’re looking for – Arthur D. The lighthouse is so sparse, its hard to believe David had lived here full time. I can’t bring myself to stay in his room. Just feels too personal, almost like I’m trying to go back to our marriage bed. Given there’s no guest room I move my stuff to the surprisingly large couch in the living room. Makes me smile. David always did fall asleep watching TV. I change into my pjs before settling into the cushions with my pilfered bedding. No guest room but he wasn’t completely unprepared luckily. Bottle of wine and that book. I take a soldiering drink of wine. Then dive in. Turns out it was David’s journal, dating back to when we first found. It’s an out of body experience to relive all this memories, but through his eyes. His point of view. So far there aren’t any answers coming from this trip down memory lane. Then I find a photo in the pages. It almost slips through my fingers. Included was a man and woman on a cliffs edge near the sea. Of the selfie style, the man is grinning at the camera as the woman tries to hide in his neck. The colors are faded and their clothing shows his dated. Its her face that makes me cringe. It’s the same one I see in the mirror. I drop both on the coffee table, my palms almost feeling scalded. He can’t know. How did he know? I finish the wine, setting the empty bottle on the floor. I turn off the light and try to bury myself in the covers and cushions. Anything to escape my new questions, the taint that is now spreading across my memories with David. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. Or at all. Scarier, maybe he knew me better than I thought. And based on his possession of the photo I thought long gone, perhaps he had known me longer too. Though I had hoped the wine would help, sleep eluded me. My head was too full of memories. And this photo caused me to go over each of them with a fine tooth comb, now convinced I had missed signs along the way. At dawn I give up. With a pit in my stomach, I open his journal to where I left off. I catch my breath. The entry date is only weeks before he passed away.
The small, black notebook was worn and looked like the pages would fall out if I wasn’t careful. Curiosity got the better of me, though it still felt like an invasion of her privacy, I opened it up and began reading journal entries from a life I never knew Gran had.
Samboy Mutoko Today is Friday. There are many Fridays since the advent of time. Thousands and thousands of Fridays have passed on without any sincere reminder to connect me back but his Friday; I remembered something, it is Samboy Mutoko.
Ancient North America’s sites.
((Ancient North America’s ) The North America’s, when most think of this land we think of the Native American’s and the European take over 500 plus years ago. But the north America’s region has a lot of ancient sites, archeological sites, which date back to even before the ancient Egyptians and Greek. After the end of the ice age we have a somewhat lost history of the north America’s. But we have been finding ancient archaeological sites dating 10’s of thousand of years old.
Valley of Whales (Wadi Al Hitan)
Did you know that whales were originally land animals like hippos and only then gradually turned into inhabitants of the seas? If you still don't believe in evolution, it is worth going to the Egyptian desert.
Secret owner of the lost ranch at Pine Creek
Three quarters of a mile off the Scenic Loop in Red Rock Canyon National Recreation Area, hikers come across the remains of a structure, which today is not on the map. A concrete basement foundation of a home suddenly appears in a clearing, as the trail meets Pine Creek, in the afternoon shadow of the massive cliffs of Mount Wilson and Bridge Mountain.