The Assiniboine initially flows southward near the Manitoba border, but after Virden it takes a swing to the east, towards Winnipeg. The wind had been trying to push me in that direction for a week, ever since I got on to the river, and I knew that couldn't last.
The wind blew east that first day after Virden. There was violent rushing during the night as the four winds clashed for dominance, and in the morning I discovered my enemy had come out on top.
The river continued to meander, giving periods where paddling was necessary for progress, and others where I could take a more relaxed attitude, pull out a book and float along. The book that day would be the Oedipus plays by Sophocles.
I won't claim that the wind was fated to fight me, nor can I think did it desire to. Nature is not malicious, merely indifferent, and for each person inconvenienced by a westward wind another found it helpful.
There were few breaks in the day. I briefly surveyed the equipment gathered around a half dismantled bridge, I was scared off of a landing by some trailer campers, and criticized myself for not at least knocking before continuing on.
Meanwhile the sun stayed hidden behind the dense cloud cover, foreboding worse suffering yet to come.
Day 71 ended: 49*48.833N, 100*29.338W
Sunday, October 12, 2008
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3 comments:
Man, not only did the wind impede your progress, but it accidentally mixed up your journal. Here's what you meant to write:
The Assiniboine takes a swing to the east, trying to push me in flows southward. The wind takes me in that direction, after Virden, towards Winnipeg, near the Manitoba border. I knew ever since I got on to the river it couldn't last.
The four winds blew. Virden was my enemy, and had come out rushing east. There, during the night, first day after, I clashed for dominance. I discovered the morning on top, as in the winds.
I, by Sophocles, play that book, a book relaxed and more giving. Oedipus could take float, paddling the days: would-be progress. Where others continued to meander,
pull along for the periods where the attitude was necessary. A long river, and out.
The wind, it did desire to claim that nature is not malicious, merely indifferent, for each person found it helpful. It inconvenienced another westward wind; I was fated. I won't fight by me, and nor can I think to.
I briefly surveyed at the equipment: a few breaks off of a half dismantled trailer. I was scared by some campers landing around bridge, gathered in and knocking. There were criticized before myself, the least not continuing on for a day.
The sun suffering behind the dense cloud cover, meanwhile stayed hidden foreboding worse yet to come.
Is this some new script that has been making the rounds while I have been at sea?
I am the Markov chain in question!
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