Saturday, December 27, 2014

7: Leaving the Known World





A steward with dreadlocks showed Alan to his cabin, a nice one on the main deck with a generous ocean view. Alan was unsure about sea travel, having never done it before, and hoped he wouldn't get seasick. The steward showed Alan all the details of his accommodation, such as how to flush the 'ead. (Oh, the toilet, Alan realized.) "Mealtimes", the steward explained, "are announced by a series of bells: two bells, rung three times, announce breakfast; three bells (rung twice) are the call for lunch, and four bells (rung twice) announce supper. A loud buzzer, by contrast, will announce various emergencies such as a fire, man overboard, or taking on water. Got all that?" Alan nodded as the steward pointed to the chart for all that on the door. 

"On a lighter note," he continued, "on almost every trip a few passengers do the drums and play guitars in the evening, out aft of the outdoor cantina....quite spontaneous, and sometimes there's the dancing. It's become a kind of tradition. Yer welcome to join us..." 

And then he left.

Alan sat down on his bunk. Now that was nice, he thought, but he wasn't sure he'd venture it...the music that is. He then began to wonder what the ticket-lady meant when she said "Glad you made it." Did she hug everyone coming through there? It left him with a good-feeling, that he was wanted, appreciated, but also mystified. 

He looked around and began to notice his cabin. He admired the carved-wood sideboard on his bunk to prevent his rolling off in rough seas, he figured. He continued to sit there, not thinking much about anything, just looked around his little room. He liked the well-worn varnished mahogany, the heavy white paint on the steel walls, the functional brass hardware. It was all of such practical design, he thought, and this felt good, too. 

Alan heard a long deep horn blast - and then the shed outside his window slowly began to glide by. Soon after that, four bells sounded and Alan went off to search for the dining room.

Alan is embarking on a three-day, two-night trip to Victoria Harbor from 
Fremantle, Western Australia. He has trouble believing he has come so far!

6: Settling on Board the SS Charles Ames





A steward with dreadlocks showed Alan to his cabin, a nice one on the main deck with a generous ocean view. Alan was unsure about sea travel, having never done it before, and hoped he wouldn't get seasick. The steward showed Alan all the details of his accommodation, such as how to flush the 'ead. (Oh, the toilet, Alan realized.) "Mealtimes", the steward explained, "are announced by a series of bells: two bells, rung three times, announce breakfast; three bells (rung twice) are the call for lunch, and four bells (rung twice) announce supper. A loud buzzer, by contrast, will announce various emergencies such as a fire, man overboard, or taking on water. Got all that?" Alan nodded as the steward pointed to the chart for all that on the door. 

"On a lighter note," he continued, "on almost every trip a few passengers do the drums and play guitars in the evening, out aft of the outdoor cantina....quite spontaneous, and sometimes there's the dancing. It's become a kind of tradition. Yer welcome to join us..." 

And then he left.

Alan sat down on his bunk. Now that was nice, he thought, but he wasn't sure he'd venture it...the music that is. He then began to wonder what the ticket-lady meant when she said "Glad you made it." Did she hug everyone coming through there? It left him with a good-feeling, that he was wanted, appreciated, but also mystified. 

He looked around and began to notice his cabin. He admired the carved-wood sideboard on his bunk to prevent his rolling off in rough seas, he figured. He continued to sit there, not thinking much about anything, just looked around his little room. He liked the well-worn varnished mahogany, the heavy white paint on the steel walls, the functional brass hardware. It was all of such practical design, he thought, and this felt good, too. 

Alan heard a long deep horn blast - and then the shed outside his window slowly began to glide by. Soon after that, four bells sounded and Alan went off to search for the dining room.

Alan is embarking on a three-day, two-night trip to Victoria Harbor from 
Fremantle, Western Australia. He has trouble believing he has come so far!

Monday, December 22, 2014

5: Alan Steps into a New Plane of Existance

Alan showed his ticket to board the SS Charles Ames to the concierge at the Orient Hotel. The smart-looking young woman studied it, front and back, scratched her head, and and gave it back to Alan, saying she'd never heard of this shipping company, or, for that matter, the destination on the ticket! 


Unfortunately, there was no Fremantle street address on the back of the ticket, so Alan found a taxi out front and asked the driver to get him to the Rudyard Shipping terminal or offices or whatever... The taxi driver was Malaysian, with a thick Aussie accent, so all Alan could do was ask him to just drive around. After about ten minutes, Alan saw this little building and shouted "Stop!"



"Okay", he thought, "I guess this must be it." 

The cabbie looked around, confused, and asked, "You want off here, mate?" 
"Oh, yes - this is the Rudyard Lines shipping office, see?"
"Okaaay, mon, whatever you say..." The cabbie apparently saw nothing.

Alan retrieved his bag and backpack, and the cabbie graciously accepted a hefty fare in Alan's US dollars. (He hadn't yet changed any money, and then there was the tip, but still...)  As Alan approached the heavy-looking wooden doors, he noticed the neighborhood seemed eerily quiet for the location of an international passenger terminal. 

He opened the door and stepped inside.

A strange but softly pleasant buzzing sensation hit Alan when he entered the building. It pulsed all through his body, and then ebbed a bit but not completely. He sensed that  things were different here, and that he might not even be in Australia any more... 

The interior was dim, dusty and very quiet. There were a few faded "Visit New Island" posters on the walls, a row of lovely old waiting-room chairs, some vending machines next to a pay phone, and a long wooden check-in counter. He showed his ticket to an older lady who came to the counter.  She stamped it, and asked, "Any Baggage?" and Alan showed his one bag, and pointed to his backpack. "Change your currency?" Oh yes, Alan thought, and pulled out his wallet, and traded his 1100 US dollars for about 49 rogers. She didn't even ask to see his passport. 

Then she looked at him closely - seemed to study his face, making Alan instantly nervous. He fought his usual impulse to look away whenever he was scrutinized like this, but a tiny voice within said hold your ground.  Then her eyes softened and she almost smiled, as if he passed some kind of test. "OK, follow me"(she wasn't a chatty sort). They went out the back of the building and she mounted a pedicab with two back seats. She told Alan to toss his bags in the back and then climb aboard, and she proceeded to pedal them to "D" Shed in Fremantle's inner harbor, about four blocks away.  

And there was the Charles Ames, an older-looking passenger-freighter, all white with only a few rust stains, its forward crane still taking on cargo. Alan, amazed at the strength in her legs, tipped the lady. She smiled broadly this time, gave him a hug (which surprised him) and then said into his ear "Glad you made it!"  Alan, flustered but happy in a strange way, whispered back, "Thanks", and walked up the gangway.

He found the bursar and showed him his ticket. The boat was to leave in about two hours. "Wow, how easy was that," Alan thought. He was on his way.




Monday, December 15, 2014

4: Alan Starts Out from Michigan City...


At 8:43 am that morning, Alan boarded the South Shore train at the 11th Street stop in Michigan City. He had to wait on the sidewalk - there wasn't really a station there.  In downtown Chicago, He connected with a Metra train that took him to O'hare International Airport.

He had to use his own money to get to O'hare, but he had his tickets from the New Island Ministry of Trade for the rest of the trip. In Terminal 1 he boarded a Qantas flight at 3:30 pm bound for Perth, Western Australia. Almost 33 hours later, after stops in Los Angeles and Melbourne, he arrived in Perth about 2:10 in the afternoon, and Alan didn't know what day it was.  From the airport in Perth, he took a taxi to Fremantle, where he had a voucher for the Orient Hotel on the corner of Henry and High Streets.


After spending a lovely and very restful night at the Orient (the corner suite, third floor), Alan had a leisurely breakfast, and then inquired about directions to the Rudyard Line office. The concierge smiled, and with a kind of blank look, replied, "The who"?

Sunday, November 9, 2014

3. Getting There

Alan was blown away by the letter.

All he could think about was how could the drawing he sold in Michigan City, Indiana get in the hands of this secretary on a very obscure island in the Indian Ocean? What really seemed cosmic was that he dreamed the subject of the drawing - he had never been further west than his home town of Oceanside! The coastline, the house, the "cargo trike", and the winding road were nothing he had actually seen, at least not in this lifetime.

Alan has made drawings and watercolors from his dreams for many years; and now this one seems to be of a real place.

The woman, Margaret, also sent Alan a road map of the island, that had this little map on the cover...



So Alan realized he must travel from Michigan City, Indiana, USA (click this link) to New Island. 

Alan wrote back saying, "Send me the tickets, I can leave tomorrow!"

Monday, November 3, 2014

2. Alan Gets a Letter




The drawing that eventually found its way to New Island.

Alan, a bit breathless, called Michelle about a week later...

"Hey, you know that show that the Art Club had last fall? And that drawing I did of an imaginary coastline? It sold, and all I knew was that the buyer was visiting from Australia..."

"Yessss," Michelle answered, not sure where this was going.

"Well, I just I got this crazy letter..."




THE COMMONWEALTH OF NEW ISLAND

Office of Wainwright Stevens, Ministry of Trade

Mr. Alan Faramond
671-B Willard Avenue
Michigan City, Indiana 46360
USA

17 March 2012

Dear Mr. Faramond,
     
     I am Margaret Mullen, the Secretary-in-Chief to Mr. Wainwright Stevens, Chief of Tourism. I happen to have in my possession an excellent drawing of our southwest coast that belonged to a local man of my acquaintance. An Australian woman may have purchased it; we are not sure. It has your name and address on the reverse. I brought the drawing to Wainwright’s attention, and we both reviewed more pictures on your ‘Alan’s Art’ website. We decided at once to contact you, since you are obviously familiar with our island.
    We are creating a guidebook that shows the beauty of our island and that depicts the joys of being here. It is our pleasure to request of you, in the capacity of Official Depictor, to produce a series of pictures of our island-nation.
     We will provide you with a list of the places we would like depicted. We can offer you a stipend as well. In return, we ask that you produce hand-made pictures and tourist maps of our island,as requested. The number and completion date of these is to be determined by mutual agreement.
     We are willing to offer transportation to New Island via Perth-FremantleWestern AustraliaWhen you arrive we will arrange for accommodations, and local transportation.
     Please reply via E-mail or telephone at your earliest convenience, and we will send airline and ship tickets in your name. Also, if you accept our offer, plan to be here for as long as necessary to complete the number of images in question. 

Sincerely,

Margaret

Margaret Mullen, for the Minister

PS: I do hope you say yes. Mr. Stevens has been under pressure to get our island “on the map” to increase international revenue. Your pictures are by far the best we have seen -- you seem to know our island well!

M.


The Ministry of Trade15 Government Hill Mall, The Commonwealth of New Island 1005 ▪ 99-12-334-2995 ▪ trademin1@freenet..ni



Wednesday, October 29, 2014

1. Meet Alan Faramond...



Alan Faramond's story will reveal New Island a little bit at a time... 

Alan's old neighborhood, on Willard Avenue.

Alan's life was on pause but he didn't know it. He lived in Michigan City, Indiana, where he was teaching middle school until a classroom incident prompted him to quit. He had lost his temper with a disruptive 7th-grade boy. The parents complained, and Alan was suspended for a week and asked to get counseling. The Counselor assigned to him let him know he was suffering from a "mild depression." He simply didn't return after his suspension was up.

He was seeing Michelle, his friend and sometime lover, who he had met at the local art center. She had been married once, had no kids and now lives with her aging mother.

Sometimes Michelle spent the night at Alan's, and one night his dreaming woke her up.
On this particular night, she watched him muttering in his sleep. He was asking questions such as, …Carla, is that you? What am I doing here? What is this place? Who are these people?

This wasn’t the first time he’d woken her up this way, so she poked him and said,

“Is there something going on with you?”

Alan opened his eyes, and groggily looked at her. “…Huh?”

“Hey, you've been talking in your sleep for a while now, sounding like you’re lost or something. Are you okay? And who’s Carla?”

He blinks a minute trying to recall what was just going on. “Um, oh yeah, Carla... Well, I guess I’m okay.” After a moment he adds, “I was having this dream, where I’m at this strange place, near tall cliffs, or on a desert. And then I’m in a small town with strange-shaped little houses, and there are people walking everywhere, who seem really friendly, almost creepy-friendly. A few reappear then disappear. I think Carla was one of them. Oh, and then I’m out on a beach near more tall cliffs, and I’m following a narrow path above the beach, at the base of the cliffs, and I’m feeling joyful – but for no reason I can think of.”

He stared toward the ceiling and added, “ I’ve dreamed about this before, Michelle, and what is weird is that I’ve been dreaming about it more frequently, and I don’t know what to do, except to make drawings of what I've seen there. It’s all that matters to me these days.”

Michelle rested her head on her arm and looked at him “Oh, yes, the drawings. I was just wondering the other day how all that was going – you never talk about them. I mean, it’s great that you are doing them and all, but you’ve also been telling me that you’re broke and they might repossess your house - don’t you think you should try to sell a few of them to pay your bills? Or get some kind of job? And what about your teaching job? Weren’t they willing to take you back after your suspension? And you have no car, you walk all over the place like those scruffy guys I see downtown, and you don’t seem to be doing anything…I wish I could help!”

Alan shut his eyes, heaved a sigh, and looked at her, “Yeah, I know, but I can’t stand the thought of going back to that school. Except for my drawings, I don’t know what else I want to do. When I draw, I feel like I’m at home somehow, and, I know this sounds weird, but if I keep doing these I might eventually find 'home', wherever that is, and maybe the drawings themselves are home, or…"

Michelle, hearing this before, stopped listening and let her fingertips wander over some sensitive areas on his chest. “Ooh, that feels nice – don’t stop.” Alan is lost in the sensation, like a petted cat. Resigned, she smiles and settles herself down with this strange dreamy man.


********************

An hour or so later they were having coffee on Alan’s back porch. Alan stared at his cup and finally said, “No offense, Michelle, but Michigan City is just not home. I could go back to California, but where I grew up is so built-up and crowded now that no one seems to be enjoying life there much. And there's the cost! Besides, the friends I knew there have all scattered. I probably should have gone back long ago, but here I am! I guess I feel comfortable here because I’ve been here so long.”

“Hmmm, it feels to me like you are a little lost, Alan, and not just in that dream! If Michigan City isn’t ‘home’ to you then maybe something else is going on. I do get a sense you’re not really happy here, though I haven’t heard you complaining that much.” She sat a minute with her coffee, and then asked, “So what do you really want?”

Alan stared at his coffee, “I think I want to be in a place that feels like home, like I belong. Maybe it’s some place inside me - I don’t know! I draw places that give me a feeling of home, like the natural places I loved as a kid – wide open beaches with only dunes or marshes behind them, or hills full of wildflowers, but I know most of that has been paved over!

“But I also need people who love me to make a home, and they appear in these dreams like ghosts, but I don’t know them. Who are they? Do they want me? Is there something I’m missing here?”

“I don’t know about your dreams," Michelle said, "but I agree with you – we all need real people that we love to make a home – not just a house or a pretty place! Don’t you ever want to have a mate or get married again?”

“I guess so...but I don’t see it happening here. Um, no offence, Michelle.” He looked at her. “So-o-o, what would you think if I moved someplace else? Now don’t get me wrong, Michelle, you know I like you a lot, and I probably love you, but we’re both kind of taking this day-to-day, right?”

She looked at him, taking this in. “Well, I kind of love you too, but I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do. And yea-a-a-h, I guess we are ‘taking it day-to-day’ as you say, and now I think I need to go home.” Saying no more she drained her cup and left.

Alan sat there and stared at the porch steps. Crap! I’m so good at saying stupid things. She’s right, I am kind of lost.

Monday, March 24, 2014

New Island Featured in Lee Mothes's Retrospective Art Book, "An Artist's Journey to Nevermore"

Our wandering artist has put out a new art book which tells all about how he discovered New Island.

Lee Mothes tells us about growing up by the ocean, and how he learned to draw waves, explosions, floods and earthquakes, (How do you draw an earthquake?) and then houses, beaches, and coastlines of his own devising. He calls the book An Artist's Journey to Nevermore.

192 pages, 340 pictures, and the story behind it, New Island included! 


The most important chapter in his book, of course, is the New Island chapter. Lee is offering two beach house properties on New Island, as well as maps and other artifacts from New Island In something called a Kickstarter Campaign, that allows artists and innovators to connect with their fans. Cool idea!

In Journey to Nevermore, Lee has shared some pictures of our island that even we haven't seen in a while. He tells us there are many more in his book:

Route P-1, near Boomer Head - one of Lee's first New Island depictions.

Route 6 in the Highlands, near Falk, with local cats

Bellingshausen's Discovery of New Island, 1819-20

Mystery place -- we don't know where this is, 
maybe somewhere north of Putney, since that looks like 
Gottfried Island in the distance.

Deep Bay and the Goodhope Pier

The locals call this Rusty's Beach, near Albion on Putney Bay.

Up near Gay's Asylum in the highlands, the sky sometimes 
opens up with a glorious display of stellar nebulae.

New Islanders can get a hand-signed copy of Journey to Nevermore with their names printed in the book by pledging two rogers ($45. US) to Lee's campaign on Kickstarter.

If you want to get the background story about New Island, and a lot more, check Lee's Journey to Nevermore project here.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Tropical Cyclone Guito sending high surf to New Island's south-western coast.

Tropical Cyclone Guito has been tracked on a southwesterly course from Madagascar into the south Indian Ocean. This morning huge waves from Guito began to hit New Island's southwestern coast, and similar surf is expected slam into the Putney suburb beaches about noon, say West Putney lifeguards.

Cyclones rarely hit New Island, but they sometimes generate high surf, especially on the west-facing coasts. The venerable Russian-built lighthouse at Roaring Cape often catches brutal storm waves far ahead of the actual storms...

Storm waves hit the Roaring Cape lighthouse
 far ahead of Guito, which is thousands of miles to the west.

 Today, 20-foot high waves from Guito also damaged the pier at Irian, about fifty miles up the coast from Roaring Cape. The surf is expected to continue for several days.

Ocean-energy enthusiast Leslie Kraft dances to this morning's waves at Irian.

Of course these waves attracts big-gun surfers from around the island and from Australia, and they should be showing up by tomorrow.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Oasis Discovered in Sheffield Desert


During New Island's brief monsoon season, ponds and oases appear in the dunes of the Sheffield. These are a treat for hikers, especially when encountered accidentally. This pond was found about ten mile northwest of Sand Lakes, or about seven miles north of Buns. See the little green arrow on the map. Of course when hiking in the Sheffield, carry plenty of water.