Bowermaster’s Antarctica — Elephant Island, South Shetland Islands

by Jon Bowermaster on

Six a.m. and the sea is clouded by a morning mist, making the always mysterious-looking Elephant Island appear evermore … mysterious. Its sharp rocky peaks climb out of the Southern Ocean in inverted Vs; the tide is high, washing out the few shallow beaches that ring it. Just off Point Wild – named for Frank Wild, Ernest Shackleton’s right hand man – penguins feed near the surface of the gray sea and a solitary Weddell seal curls up in the rocks. Just around the point we watch a leopard seal rip a penguin to bits for breakfast, flopping it around on the surface like a rag doll.

I wonder how Elephant Island would have fared historically if this weren’t the very beach where Shackleton and the twenty two men from his crushed “Endurance” had pulled and sailed to back in 1916. It is impossible to land on the beach this morning, due to the high tide, but I have been here before. Even when the seas are calm and the tide low it is a narrow, rocky, inhospitable place. That they managed to sail their trio of tiny lifeboats here, to the far eastern end of the South Shetland Islands at all is a miracle. That they survived for many months on this thin sliver of rock is testament to … well … I’m not sure what exactly. Fortitude? Patience? Belief in myriad higher powers?

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Minus the Shackleton quotient, I doubt many around the world would have ever heard of this rocky lump. But today it holds a historical context far larger than its minute circumference. Bobbing in the rough seas just offshore, I can make out the monument built by the Chileans who sailed to the rescue aboard the “Yelcho” to rescue Shackleton’s men.

As we rock in the morning mist I try to imagine the scene as Shackleton and his crew prepared the small, twenty-three foot, six-inch lifeboat “James Caird” for its last-gasp, 800 mile sail to South Georgia. I envision them chasing down seals as they slid up onto the rocks, both for the sustenance they would give and the warmth their just-slit bellies held for the men’s long-frozen hands. I can imagine the men gathering in small groups to discuss among themselves the wisdom in the choices made by “the Boss” of who would go … and who would stay behind.

Today the pack ice is far from Elephant Island, but in April 1916 it was threatening to return any day, trapping the entire crew for another winter. They’d already been “lost” for fifteen months and were nearing the end of … everything … food, health, sanity. Which meant as they pounded nails straight, gathered provisions (matches, paraffin, extra socks) and filled the bow of the small boat with rocks for ballast there was an urgency that we cannot imagine from this vantage point. They all knew the risks of trying to sail a gerry-rigged lifeboat across the stormiest seas in the world with the scantest of navigational tools and a tiny, homemade sail. In the quiet of this morning I can almost hear their last conversations as they readied to push the “James Caird” off into the rising seas.

Click HERE for more dispatches from Antarctica!

Tour the world’s vandalism

by Tom Johansmeyer on

Eyesore or art, graffiti is part of any culture’s public dialogue. Vandalism is visual profanity, and we all swear in our own f—ing ways. I’ve been drawn to these wall scrawls for a while, probably since I read Holden Caulfield‘s concerns about the subject in Catcher in the Rye. My fascination gained momentum while I was stationed in South Korea.

A soldiers’ bar in Tong Du Chon (the Peace Club, which is no longer there) was littered with attempted wit. “I used to believe in the common decency of main,” one drunken soldier-scholar printed at eye level. Another replied, “I still do.” Eight hours into a soju-induced haze, this stuff is profound.

Along the way, I’ve become a connoisseur of this crime, though only as an observer. I have seen social commentary and even debate. And, there’s even been a bit of meaningless paint spilled in the vain hope of making a point. I’ve soaked it all in and hit a few readers up for their tips, as well.

So, let’s take a tour of some of my favorite acts of defacement. Some reflect careful planning and show artistic talent. Others offer nothing more than layers upon layers of cries for attention and assertions of self-importance.In Iceland, I read in the local English language newspaper, the Reykjavik Grapevine, that an outbreak of graffiti was the result of building vacancies triggered by the weakened economy (and this was back in June). This was supported by the observations of the walking tour’s prophetic viking. Hell, the wall says it all.

The Parisians waxed political on the walls of metro stations. I was in town for the hotly contested presidential election of May 2007, and the ultimate winner, Nicolas Sarkozy, took a beating in the vandals’ press. This is nothing compared to the scratched-out eyes on campaign posters, though.

Translation: Sarko = Bush = Berlusconi = Shit. The tagger lumps the president of France with the now former president of the United States and the hotheaded former president of Italy … not to mention a steaming pile. Politics took center stage in Tallinn, Estonia, as well. Thankfully, the vandals worked in English, making it easy for me to take a stab at recreating the crime.

From what I could see, this is something of a public discussion. First, it seems, a disgruntled “activist” wrote “Fuck Fascism!” And, I have to admit, it’s hard to disagree with that. Next, a second person probably popped “anti” in front of fascism, before a third joined the spray-painted conversation by crossing out “fuck.” A fourth crossed out “anti,” and we’re left with fascism. But, the entire discourse supports the original position.

At least, that’s how I’d imagine the entire process unfolding.

The most compelling, however, was in Quebec. I found it fascinating that the retort to an assertion of independence was proffered in English.

Of course, my neighbors are far from innocent. Here on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, we seem to be waging a war on body image. Custo Barcelona, an upscale fashion retailer, has ads on the corner of W. 71st St. and Columbus Ave. The models, wearing about as much body fat as they are clothing, glare at me every time I walk to Gray’s Papaya for a hot dog, as if holding me in contempt for my substandard diet. Someone (not me, I promise) decided to comment.

Hey, New Yorkers can be brutal, even in my quiet, peace-loving corner of the city. This is but one example of how the poor Custo models, have suffered, though. Check out the photo gallery below to get a sense of how Upper West Siders feel about this bit of eye candy.

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And, this is just a taste of what I have collected. Take a look at the next photo gallery to see what our readers have submitted. Fortunately, their collections are a bit more high-minded than mine. The stories with each photos are in the readers’ own words (with some slight editing).

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Irishman Runs Seven Marathons on Seven Continents, in Six Days

by Kraig Becker on

Irish endurance runner Richard Donovan completed an impressive series of runs a few days back when he completed his seventh marathon in just six days. Even more impressive than that however, is that each of those marathons was run on a different continent.

The World Marathon Challenge got underway on January 31st when Donvan ran a marathon in Antarctica, covering the 26.2 miles n 4 hours, 39 minutes, 29 seconds in temperatures hovering around 0º Fahrenheit. Upon completing that race, he immediately hopped on a plane and flew to Cape Town, for his second run on the same day. From there, it was on to Dubai, where the temperatures soared dramatically, but Richard completed his third marathon in two days on the 1st of February.

The next destination was London, where the city was experiencing its worst snowfall in years, but Donvan pushed through, and logged his 26.2 miles, at three in the morning no less, before jetting off to Toronto, for yet another marathon. He completed the South American leg of his challenge by running a marathon in Santiago, Chile. The last of his runs took place in Sydney, Australia on Thursday, February 5th.

All told, Richard completed his journey in just 5 days, 10 hours, and 8 minutes, collecting 26,719 frequent flyer miles in the process. According to this story from the Independent, his only opportunities to eat and rest were aboard the airplanes he was flyng on, which caused him to battle sleep deprivation and jet lag the entire was as well.

What were Richard’s motivations for undertaking the World Marathon Challenge? To raise awareness of the ongoing crisis in Darfur, and to raise funds for the Irish charity GOAL.

Jetstar charges passengers by the pound

by Tom Johansmeyer on

The debate has gone on for years. Larger people have had to deal with shrinking plane seats. We all complain, with the svelte arguing that the not-so-trim should have to purchase an extra seat. I have to be honest, here. I believe that you should pay for what you consume. If you take two seats pay for them. Apparently, low-cost Australian airline Jetstar agrees, with much more zeal than I would have ever imagined.

For some, airfare must be purchased by the pound … and I’m not talking about the British currency.

Samantha Scafe, a 350 pound transgender passenger on Jetstar, was forced to pay for a second seat “for other people’s comfort” after twice being assured that this would not be necessary. Jetstar later apologized for the debacle, saying that it doesn’t provide overweight customers with “two-for-one deals.”

Obviously, she’s filing a lawsuit over this.

Now, let’s give Jetstar credit for follow-through. Not only do they offend a passenger, but the two seats they gave her had a slight problem: they were separated by the aisle. If she occupied them, she’d have had the flight attendants all over her for not getting out of the way of the drink cart!

These women should’ve been charged for their “crimes”!


[Via news.com.au, Blackbook]

Budget program strains your budget

by Tom Johansmeyer on

We’re all turned on by the thought of getting free money in the mail, but you should be skeptical unless the tooth fairy delivers it personally. According to Upgrade:Travel Better, you should be wary of a new deal from Budget Rent-A-Car.

Sign the $10 check that you get from Budget, and you’re really joining a fee-laden membership program that will cost you much more. The best part? You’re giving the company that manages this program (Trilegiant) access to your credit card information. So, you know they’ll get paid. As you may have figured out by now, Trilegiant has a history of complaints about its billing practices.

If you believe in free money, sign the “check” immediately. If Trilegiant doesn’t take your money, someone else undoubtedly will.

[Via Wall Street Journal]

[Thanks, Dad]