Wild Atlantic Way

Today I had a great day of pure unadulterated sightseeing from the comforts of a coach but in the company of some real idiots. 

I woke up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to the first bus bound for Galway at 6.45. Two and a bit hours later I got off at the bus terminal in the city centre and promptly jumped on another bus bound for the nearby Cliffs of Moher. Being such a tight and hastily thrown together side trip, I had spent a night googling and cherry picking all the most notable things to do in each city and in this instance, I surrendered to just booking myself in for a lazy bus tour to see some popular quintessential Irish sights. 

The Cliffs of Moher are reportedly the most visited natural attraction in Ireland, and it's not hard to see why. Spectacular sea cliffs of a scale that I had never imagined before - and absolutely seething with tourists. We were lucky enough to get some great weather today so with little to no wind it made the cliffs that much more crowded.

Along the way we stopped at Dunguaire Castle, where the clouds miraculously parted completely to make for some great photos (see above). We also drove through the Burren (a beautifully barren landscape of worn away limestone) and stopped at another crumbling church ruin and the Poulnabrone portal tomb which dates back to Neolithic times.

Now, I say idiots because as lovely as the lively chatty bus driver Gary was - he spent a good long while discussing different varieties of Irish boats and the finer details of roof thatching - the majority of the passengers either paid no attention to him or talked right over his efforts. A lot of them were Brazilian or Italian, and they had obviously not signed up for the thickly-accented history lesson, but it still felt wildly distracting and more than a bit rude. They also routinely ignored time constraints at each stop - mostly due to the multitude of selfies they were taking with those unnerving selfie sticks and their need to buy cheap nasty things at all the tourist trap gift shops. Let's just say it's been a loooooong time since I've been so eager to shop for key chains.

But irritation aside, seeing the cliffs and wandering around in County Clare on a beautiful warm day made up for however frustrating my company was. I'm now staying in a hilariously kitsch and OTT bed and breakfast found off of Airbnb. It feels like Professor Umbridge exploded in here, and the beautiful host Phil has festooned every surface and porcelain vase with doilies, tassels and fake flowers (her terrible hayfever prevents her from enjoying the real stuff). I've been assured a packed lunch and a full Irish breakfast tomorrow so all in all I think I've done alright.

Dublin Double

Dublin's been amazing. I didn't know what to expect when I landed, but in hindsight I wish I had given it more time. I stayed in yet another dank hostel in a creepy old building, but at least they threw in a meagre breakfast and the location was decent enough. 

The first night was a bit of a write off, as I got to the hostel as most things were starting to close. I did manage to initiate myself properly by having a liquid dinner (read: a few pints of Guinness) at an Irish pub with some fresh acquaintances. I even walked past a brawl, although I docked points off because it was still so early and it was clearly not a fight between two drunk Irishmen. 

I had the following day to smash through as many quintessential Dublin things as possible in the space of 12 hours. It started with a trip to the nearby city gallery where they recreated Francis Bacon's dusty decrepit studio down to the smallest detail. In a past life I might have wanted the same sort of chaotic trash pile studio set up, but I think I prefer a little more order nowadays.

I then walked to the beautiful Trinity College where I had a short tour of the grounds and bought a ticket to see the Book of Kells. I guess you could say it's Ireland's answer to the Mona Lisa as it's so popular and renowned that people make a pilgrimage just to see it. The book is an illuminated manuscript containing the four gospels of the New Testament - written/illustrated painstakingly on vellum and covered in these extravagant, insane, almost microscopic illuminations in vividly well-preserved colour. The line to get in was huge so I killed some time with lunch sitting in the central park St. Stephen's Green and a quick visit to see some blackened but well-preserved bog bodies at the Archaeology Museum (side note: I think it's nifty that 'archaeology' contains three vowels in a row). 

Like the Mona Lisa, the Book is pretty small; yet unlike the Mona Lisa I was genuinely floored by the sheer insanity of the book, as well how well preserved it is. (photos aren't allowed) It's just a shame that you can't flip through the thing to marvel at every glorious page for a good few days. The book is housed in a section of the old Trinity College Library, which is an impressive building in its own right. The Long Room especially has that quintessential grandiose old world library feel to it, complete with floor to ceiling shelves of dusty yellowing books, wood panelling on every surface and marble busts of famous writers through the ages. I'm not sure if the Jedi Archives were modelled from it but it definitely sprang to mind, as well as Hogwarts of course. 

I had planned to go see Dublin Castle afterwards but by then I was sick of paying admission to get inside yet another historical building so I went to go look for a caffeine fix instead. The day's festivities ended with a tour of the Guinness Storehouse. There I learnt the secrets of Ireland's drink of choice and all-round Favourite Thing and enjoyed a complimentary pint at the observatory deck on the top floor. 

My night would've been free had I not been randomly contacted by Sinead who I used to work with at Stables way back when. We went out for drinks and had a good time catching up. It's always so nice and unexpected when you see a familiar face overseas and being with that person in an unfamiliar environment overrides any potential awkwardness or distance between you.

Side Trip Quickie

Edinburgh's been heaps of fun. Of course it was a bit of a smack to the face after the peaceful simplicity of Norway and La Wayaka but I'm glad I can now tick the Fringe off my to do list.

Nine shows in four days might be nothing for some die hard fringers, but I think it was a fair effort from someone that usually wouldn't bother unless pushed and shoved by a certain sibling... On the first night I saw a free standup show and a dreadful absurdist one man show that left me super uncomfortable and wanting to run out ASAP. I planned out the following few days better and saw Courtney Act, a Game of Thrones parody musical, Korean drumming, two circus/acrobatic shows, improv murder mystery and (on Mish's recommendation) the absolute highlight that was Reuben Kaye. 

Reuben is a cabaret act from Melbourne, and for 90 minutes he had the entire audience in fits of laughter and tears. The songs were great, the humour was brutal and the jokes kept flying out before you could catch your breath. Charisma, uniqueness, nerve and talent in SPADES. 11/10 would recommend.

Onto my next leg of the trip now, and I'm writing this entry from Dublin. I had a few days to kill before Jake arrives on my birthday for a road trip into the highlands so I quickly threw together a side trip to the Emerald Isle on a whim.

Leaving Edinburgh this afternoon, I took a shoddy Ryanair flight to Dublin where I'll be staying for 2 nights. After that I'll head to Galway for another night, followed by 2 more in Belfast (couldn't think of a more ideal place to see the season finale of Thrones!). Should be a nice exciting few days. 

And on a side note, today was the last day to enrol for the mind-numbingly stupid SSM plebiscite. There's not much else to say really, but I thought I needed to throw in my 2 cents on the whole mess as it feels important to me. I'm lucky to be born in this century and not the last, and for the longest time I was fortunate to be in a position of enough privilege to be able to turn a blind eye to the hatred/bigotry faced by homosexuals in other parts of the world. It was easy to imagine that my sexuality didn't matter a whole lot, as I personally see it as just one minute facet of myself as a whole. However with this plebisicite rearing its ugly head, it makes everything painfully clear that for being who I am, I am denied a basic human right. Playing the religion card is cheap and cowardly, and at the end of the day it's only just a technicality in wording that will really change. I hope this all comes to a good and happy outcome soon. (PS. I took the idea from certain recent letters of resignation and threw in a tiny message in the text above. Look at the paragraphs. Honestly for fun more than anything). 

Transit South

Getting to Scotland took a few more days. I spent Friday mostly in a daze waiting for boats to carry me from A - B - C. Flying south on the same day didn't quite line up with the boat rides I needed to take so I decided to stay a little further south in Alta for the night. The harbour and airport are conveniently located next to each other, but unbeknownst to me my Airbnb was about 6km away from both. Not wanting to bother figuring out local buses or pay for a taxi I decided to walk. With my full array of packs that turned out to be more difficult than anticipated, and I arrived at the house completely and utterly drenched in sweat. 

And to show that I am really as stubborn as I look, I did it again the next day, only this time I had a quicker trip to the Alta Rock Art Museum. I spent a few hours walking along trails of neat board walks around the harbour to admire the rocks that had been delicately carved with figures, animals and scenes of hunting and fishing - the oldest of which date back to about 4200 BC. After fueling up on my last filter coffee + waffle + brunost combo I caught a bus to my final couple of planes to take me back to the capital and onwards to Scotland early the next day.

Yet fortunately the planes all ran on time, and I made it sweaty and tired once more to my next stop. - the stupidly named Kick Ass Hostels in the heart of the Edinburgh Old Town.

To The Top

I originally started writing this last week, but other things obviously came up. This was my last big hike in Norway and it did feel like I was going out with a bang. Not only was it by far the longest journey (the round trip was at least 20km) but the views hugging the coast were some of the best/scariest that I've come across so far.

The hike in question took me all the way to the northernmost point of Sørøya. It is by no means the most northern point of Norway, but I think I have a thing with reaching the ends of things. The journey started along the same route as I had taken getting to Sandfjellet the other week. After tumbling once more down the dunes I veered north and continued the long hike upwards over vast rolling hills and past several lakes. The weather was magnificently calm and clear for the most part; a polar opposite to the continuous gales that had battered us day and night prior to the day of the hike (and starting up again the very next day after said hike). 

The hills gradually tapered off towards the pointy end until finally I was left with the fun part - a pathway made up of narrow trails carved into the steep and almost sheer sea cliffs. The fact that whoever made it had actually bothered to add in a hand rail made it pretty legit, as so many other hikes I've tried in Norway seem to disregard human safety so easily. I would definitely not recommend it to anyone bothered by heights. Had there been any wind or rain I would have been more hesitant to attempt this part of the walk, but things stayed calm so I kept going. 

Almost at the end is a small hut hiding in a break in the cliffs. It stays unlocked for bypassing hikers wanting to stay the night, like the other DNT huts around the country. I considered staying but knew that ran the real risk of having to walk home the next day in another storm, so I left after an hour or so of nursing my limp aching feet.

In hindsight I should have delayed the start of the hike by a few hours, as the hut would have been the perfect spot to watch a late sunset. I had the sunset behind me as I trudged back home, with the best part of it clearly obscured by the hills. I arrived back at the house almost 10 hours after I started and my legs began cramping immediately after I kicked off the first boot. Job well done.

Back To The Big Smoke

The last few days have been a blur. Losing Charlie came so suddenly and took everyone by surprise. My mind was definitely elsewhere as I packed up my things from that beautiful house by the beach and hugged everyone goodbye. Looking back it was truly a special and unique experience, and worth the expense and pain involved in getting there - even if my output for the time being doesn't quite reflect it.

I'm now in Edinburgh, and despite less than two hours flying here it just feels like such an outrageous contrast to the slow, pastoral life that I enjoyed for three weeks. I forgot what it was like to be stuck in a crowd, and how much I hated it. I'm here to catch some of the Fringe Festival, and I had prepared myself for something of an onslaught. Still it feels like a shock to be bombarded with so many posters, queues, venues and people shoving flyers in your face at every given opportunity.

I might've missed certain things about city living (other things I know i can't live without), but nothing really compares to the ease and simplicity of a place like Nes or La Wayaka. 

Eulogy

It's been a rough few days. On Thursday Charlie passed away gently and without any pain in his sleep. It was sudden and unexpected. I don't want to be writing this, but the grief and numbness feels so consuming.

I never thought I would be seeing him for the last time when I scratched his head and gave him a thorough rub down before my flight out. Nothing in his eyes suggested anything other than pure joy, happiness and love. Now I don't think I'll be able to forgive myself for not being there to hold him as he went away. There won't be any closure, and everything now feels so absolute and final. 

It was so easy to love Charlie, as he so easily fell in love with everyone he met. He loved to eat more than anything, as is often the case with most labs. This immense brown mass of fur and fat just constantly wanting and needing to be near you; to hold your hand while you watched TV; to nuzzle into your lap as you tried to do some work. He was never like the other dogs, and that made it easier to think of him as someone special who by some miracle came into my life for a decade. 

I remember way back when we first had him as a puppy, and Mum brought him along for the after school pickup. I can't imagine a more perfect little unaware pile of fluff rolling around the school grounds followed by two very concerned parents. He was always in his own world - wandering off to smell the flowers instead of playing with other dogs, and casually allowing himself to get dry humped by every other dog at the beach.

I'll miss the soft smell of cinnamon after he came back from the groomers each and every time. I'll miss his complete and utter terror of jumping out of the car. I'll miss his blissed out face as we lathered him up at the dog wash (just a long extended wet hug really). That one time he smashed Dim in the balls will stay with me forever, as well as the time he pooed on the carpet out of sheer excitement that Reb had shown up at the door. He always maintained those twinkling puppy dog eyes that made you weak at the knees, even as the fur around his muzzle started to grey and the cataracts began to turn opaque. 

He was always there, ready and willing to just be your friend. I can't help but feel that I took it for granted while he was still around, and that I didn't put more care into my last farewell to him - but I guess that's the harsh reality of hindsight. 

I miss him so much, and I'm not ready to describe him in the past tense. Life is just so much easier having a dog by your side. I can't believe he's gone. 

Thank you for everything.

Winding Down

Amy, Lindsey and Kieran left this morning, so the group is down to 5 (+Sofie and Victor). It's definitely feeling like the end is drawing near, and I'm glad I managed to finish the painting that you see here with time to spare. I guess you could call it a sequel to my initial 'portrait of summer', but rendered in gouache and watercolour with a lot more consideration taken into the composition and framing. It's been so long since I've committed to a full-blooded/unadulterated gouache piece and it was super satisfying to sign off on this one. 

I worked from an arrangement that I pieced together on the studio floor - rhubarb leaves, weeds and lupine from the garden; a king crab shell found on the beach and urchin shells picked up by past visitors. Short of a few reindeer I think it paints a decent picture of the short but energetic Arctic summer. The pile of stuff is still sitting where I left it so I might attempt a part 2 of the same arrangement but wilted and decayed for comparison.

The last few days (since moon-gazing) have been completely housebound as we waited out a vicious and continuous gale that dragged on for 2 days straight. The house was creaking and whistling and the thought of going outside never crossed any of our minds. My only venture past the door was to go down into the sauna. However this morning was a totally different story. The wind has died down and the sky is back to an impossible blue. After lunch I'm off to attempt a monster hike to the northernmost tip of Sørøya. It seems like a fitting way to cap off the adventure. 

Moonrise Pt.2 The Remix

Just as I was about to go to bed I noticed it was perfectly still outside and the moon was just starting to peak out from some receding clouds. So out I ran again tripod and camera in arm, but this time with clear uninhibited skies and all the time in the world to snap away. It would have made for a nicer shot if the moon was a bit lower in the sky and closer to the ridge, but I can't complain really. I spent a good 30 minutes scrambling in and out of frame trying to get a decent shot with semi-transparent me in the photo as well. Happy with the results!

Moonrise Interrupted

The moon was big and bright last night so I ran out onto the beach with a borrowed tripod and a fresh memory card. The clouds kept on getting in the way so I only had a small window to get any decent shots in. If the rain holds off I'll try again tonight.

Distractions

Greetings again from Akkarfjord! We arrived home yesterday afternoon after most of the day was spent driving back up the coast followed by a few hours idly waiting around for the ferry in Hammerfest. 

It's wet and windy outside, so perfect conditions to hole up inside and do some solid work. But instead I've spent the morning not doing anything remotely constructive. The postal vote for SSM looks like it's finally happening, and I don't think I have enough words to succinctly describe how disappointed, frustrated and angry I feel that such a simple straightforward human rights issue has been allowed to drag on for so long. Anything I have to say about being denied equal rights, about this being a great opportunity for bigots to casually spray their hate speech, about the sheer waste of time/money it is to confirm an opinion which is shared by the vast majority of the Australian public anyway, and about the complete pointlessness of it all has already been talked about ad nauseam by people more eloquent and more notable than me. That we still live in a time when this has to be discussed and debated is shameful and embarrassing. 

Of course I won't be in town for whenever the ballots get mailed out, so I spent the morning trying to somehow enrol myself for an overseas vote. The powers-that-be don't yet know if/where there will be places set up for voting (again, on an opinion poll that is not legally binding) in the UK. I'll be damned if I have to spend my own precious time and money travelling down south to the London embassy to put in my 2 cents. 

But briefly pushing that to one side, I'll give a brief account of the last few days before I get back onto work. We set out on Tuesday afternoon for Hammerfest, where we hopped on another ferry for Alta where we would pick up our van. The trip from Alta to Karasjok took about 4 hours, with a few detours and stops along the way. We stopped over in the village of Masi to meet with Sami musician Johan Sara - a friend of Sofie and Victor who creates contemporary music based on the Sami tradition of the Joik (an oral tradition somewhere between singing and chanting). We had a chat and he showed us around his beautiful log cabin studio. 

Being further inland away from the coast and pockmarked with lakes, this area of Finnmark is a hot bed breeding ground in summer for mosquitoes, midges and all those other flying biting insects that no one appreciates. None of us were prepared for the sheer numbers though. I've never been so engulfed in clouds of buzzing swarms every time I stood out in the open. We were basically followed for the entirety of the road trip, so it did feel like a less literal cloud hanging over us while we were away. It also turns out that I'm allergic to something in the air. I wasn't expecting my hayfever to pick up again so far up north, but since arriving in Sørøya I've been combatting the usual symptoms of a dripping/blocked nose and itchy eyes/throat - as much as I'd like to deny it altogether.

We arrived late that night to our cabins at the Karasjok camping grounds. The next morning we visited the Sami parliament (a large wooden building built to evoke a traditional Sami lavvu tent) and the Sami centre of contemporary art. There we were given a tour by the director Jan Erik and met a local artist Aage Gaupe who took us over to his studio for another tour after seeing the gallery. 

The afternoon/evening was free as S&V drove over the border to Finland for cheaper groceries, and we had a communal dinner in one of the wooden BBQ huts at the campsite. The next day (yesterday) Victor drove us home via another route so we could see more of the landscape. Akkarfjord - Hammerfest - Alta - Masi - Karasjok - Hammerfest - Akkarfjord. 

It was good to get out of the house for a bit, and to learn about a culture that I otherwise would not have much contact with. However it's now my last week here at the residency and I still can't help but feel like I haven't used my time wisely. For my work habits and practice, 3 weeks is a miniscule amount of time and I haven't been able to settle on anything concrete so far (and I don't think I will). But there's no use in bemoaning the point. This place is magical, and I'm glad to just be here taking everything in as much as possible.

Idle Days

I haven't been out in the last few days, with the exception of a few strolls out onto the beach to chase sheep and kick at all the dead jellyfish washed up by the tide. Some of them are huge, and they look more like giant sacks of pus than anything formerly living. 

On Saturday evening we were all invited to the camel trainer's 50th birthday, which doubled as a 25th anniversary with his wife and a do over of his wife's 50th a few years back which was cancelled when some workplace accident resulted in the loss of a hand. Wild stuff. We were treated to a bathtub of fish soup, an extensive dessert/cake spread, live music, and lots of curious and awkward meet-and-greets with the locals who at best only seemed to have a fleeting idea of what an artist residency was and why we were here. Still, they were all too happy to accommodate us and to keep our cups constantly refilled.

When it came down to speeches of course I didn't catch most of it, but the Mongolian camel trainer was universally understood when he came up to sing a really lovely traditional song/chant to give thanks. With the help of his translator they presented the birthday boy with a huge bottle of Mongolian vodka and the promise of a newborn camel from his herd back at home. It was a wonderful sentiment, and the crowd mostly went wild when they found out, but I couldn't help but wonder how difficult/costly it would be to transport a live camel from inner Mongolia over to far north Finnmark.

I finished the drawing up top only this morning. I don't usually resort to a straight up pencil/graphite drawing, but I guess this is the ideal place to spread out and try new things without much consequence. The interiors of the barn and the boathouse are beautifully aged and worn. I really wanted to capture some of the textures and a bit of the light filtering through the grubby windows. This drawing probably took longer than it should have, but I hope to do a follow up over the next few days. 

In a few hours almost all of us will be heading off to take the ferry back to the mainland for a little road trip! Sofie and Viktor have rented a van and we're driving to the town of Karasjok further inland. Karasjok is something of a capital for the indigenous Sami population in Finnmark and I'm looking forward to loading up my brain with Sami stuff over the next few days.