Faceblocked

A reminder that that desperate-for-attention old guy, The Donald, is still desperate.

Ah, all that “Donald stuff” mercifully feels so far away.

These days, blue herons inhabit my life and imagination. Pic taken soon after sunrise.

News blues

More crazy, only-in-America bribes for vax. This time, get the vax, win a shotgun…. 

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More than 225 000 senior citizens have so far received their Covid-19 vaccine shots in KwaZulu-Natal. (This includes my mother. ) 

Healthy planet, anyone?

The argument for a carbon price? We are paying a price for fossil fuels, but that price is not paid by those that burn the fossil fuels – we need to change that. 

It is a mistake to believe that we are not paying for emitting greenhouse gases. Even if we do not pay a monetary price for carbon emissions we do pay a very large price, the consequences of climate change.
Without a monetary carbon price it is those who have the smallest emissions that suffer the largest costs from climate change. A carbon price, in contrast, means that those who cause the emissions also pay for them.
A key reason why voters are not in favour of carbon pricing is that many believe it won’t actually reduce emissions, but empirical research and theory show that this is wrong: pricing carbon emissions – either via a carbon tax or a ‘cap and trade’-system – is effective. It shifts production and consumption from carbon-intensive goods and services to low-carbon alternatives and does reduce emissions.

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Jane Goodall: If We Don’t Make Peace With Nature, Expect More Deadly Pandemics. The famed primatologist spent the quarantine broadcasting to the world about the threat of climate change, zoonotic disease and biodiversity loss. 

“…this pandemic has emphasized [the need to] develop a new relationship with the natural world and animals. If we don’t somehow get together and create a more sustainable greener economy and forget this nonsense that there can be unlimited economic development on a planet with finite resources, and that the GDP isn’t God’s answer to the future, then it’s going to be a very sad world that we leave to our great-great-grandchildren. Their children may have no planet left.”

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

I sit in my berth and enjoy the sounds – birds chirping as they flit thither and yon – and the gentle rays of sunlight stoking the water, and reeds, and river vegetation, and the blue heron on its lookout, shown above.
Despite the uncertainty about my houseboat’s current state of maintenance and evaluating how much to invest in this aging entity, I can’t think of anywhere Id rather be than aboard. Perfection: rocking gently in a boat on a river home to birds, otters, wildlife….
Not that things are, well, ship shape.
My current slip neighbor (before he was slip neighbor could have become a quasi-friend/acquaintance) plays high volume hip hop music… and reggae. Reggae? These days, the beat quickly becomes tedious. It’s contextualized, however, by the non-unpleasant wafts of pot/dagga emanating from his houseboat.
Hip hop? Not for me…to the extent that I may accept the harbor master’s invitation to move my houseboat to the “new dock”. The downside? That dock hosts The Trumpie family and their houseboat flies a Trump 2024 flag.
My Sophie’s choice? Hip hop lyrics or Trumpie conspiracy agit-prop.
More examples of not-ship-shape:
The lack of running water moved from mysterious to solve-able problem. It’s tedious and time consuming to solve although also appeals to my sense of rising to a challenging.
Backstory:
This boat hosts a water storage tank, but like the onboard wiring, it’s disconnected. Electricity and non-potable water are supplied directly from the dock. Usually, water transports via hosepipe onto the boat and through faucets in sinks in galley (kitchen) and head (toilet). After moving in last week, I’ve not had running water, instead drinking only bottled water and hauling buckets of non-potable water over the deck from the river.
Yesterday, Nate, recently met boat expert, advised I inspect the boat’s under-carriage for the root of the lack-of-water problem.
That 3-foot-high space under the boat formed by the shape of the two pontoons is my least favorite part of the boat. Naturally, that’s the location of the rusted metal stopper that had crumbled on a residual section of redundant underwater hose. Dockside hosepipe water flowed straight into river water.
The difficulty: the water under the boat is deep and requires constantly kicking to stay afloat.
Aside from my presence panicking cliff swallows as they nest under the boat, working alone under the boat is creepy. I imagine underwater monsters, or freshwater sharks, or hungry seals grabbing me…. I’d disappear, poof! But… best not to dwell….
Solving the water leakage problem requires swimming, climbing onto/off the boat, switching on/off the dockside faucet…and much kicking, kicking, kicking to stay afloat while attempting to plug the hose.
My onboard toolbox is limited. Luckily, during a recent trip to the hardware store, I’d picked up a metal screw-to-tighten gasket. That, carried in a small bag along with a perfectly proportioned cork from a bottle of wine, and a screwdriver, I kicked, kicked, kicked in the deep water. I inserted the cork into the redundant hosepipe and screwed down the gasket.
First try: water ran through the galley and head sink faucets – then abruptly stopped. Re-entering and kicking, kicking, kicking in deep water under the boat, I discovered the water pressure had blown out the cork from the hosepipe. Luckily corks float.
I hauled out, walked to the dock, turned off the water, then reviewed the toolbox for appropriate hardware. Finding nothing suitable, I cut the cork in half, and, re-immersed to kick, kick, kick under the boat, I inserted the half-cork and prepared to tighten the gasket with the screwdriver. Alas, I dropped the gasket. It’s down there, somewhere in deep water – perhaps entertaining underwater monsters, freshwater sharks, and hungry seals.
The upshot? Still no running water. Deep gouges on my index finger knuckle from the screwdriver banging the cork into the hosepipe. Tired legs from kicking, kicking, kicking…
As we say in ye olde country: tomorrow is another day.
Moreover, I’ve a sore throat and the sniffles. I must find a location offering free Covid tests.
The good news?
Nate found the outboard motor works better than it looks. Hooking up the new battery I’d purchased in August 2019 but never used, the motor started right up and Nate lubricated it with my newly purchased WD 40. He also advised on gasoline and additives required for the 2-stroke motor, and advised on constructing the Sea Eagle inflatable before I spend money on fixing the smaller outboard motor. Most importantly, he suggested the steel pontoons may not require immediate – and expensive – haul-out and maintenance at a boatyard. That’s a savings of around $2,000 /ZAR 27,000.
Most exciting, Nate will spend a couple of hours teaching me and my daughter to pilot the boat. Yay!

Jabbed

Sunrise - looking east

Sunrise - looking west

News blues

South African President Cyril Ramaphosa announced Sunday that his country will return to stricter lockdown measures in the face of a sharp rise in COVID-19 cases that indicate the virus is “surging again” in Africa’s worst-affected nation. 
Positive cases in South Africa in the past seven days were 31% higher than the week before, and 66% higher than the week before that, Ramaphosa said in a live TV address. He said some parts of the country, including the commercial hub Johannesburg and the capital city Pretoria, were now in “a third wave.”
“We do not yet know how severe this wave will be or for how long it will last,” Ramaphosa said.

Watch/listen to President Ramaphosa’s recent address on the upcoming third wave (28:13 mins) 

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The Lincoln Project:
Memorial Day (1.:25 mins)
Their Party  (1:14 mins)

Healthy planet, anyone?

Yesterday, Memorial Day, after spending a day in a small houseboat fully exposed to 104 F/40 C weather, I doubted my ability to survive heatwaves in the future. Turns out, these days, more people are suffering and dying from heat-stroke.
“A new study blames climate change for 37% of global heat deaths.” I wasn’t a casualty yesterday, but…: Scientists say even more people die from other extreme weather amplified by global warming such as storms, flooding and drought. 

More than one-third of the world’s heat deaths each year are due directly to global warming, according to the latest study to calculate the human cost of climate change.
But scientists say that’s only a sliver of climate’s overall toll — even more people die from other extreme weather amplified by global warming such as storms, flooding and drought — and the heat death numbers will grow exponentially with rising temperatures.
Dozens of researchers who looked at heat deaths in 732 cities around the globe from 1991 to 2018 calculated that 37% were caused by higher temperatures from human-caused warming, according to a study Monday in the journal Nature Climate Change .
That amounts to about 9,700 people a year from just those cities, but it is much more worldwide….

Gulp!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Home! Gained a day! Vaccinated! Quarantining on my houseboat.
I arrived at the local Safeway pharmacy Sunday morning to receive the first of two Pfizer vaccinations. My appointment was at 9:30am and I was the only person in line. I filled out documentation, rolled up my sleeve, took the jab, waited for signs of adverse reactions, and, feeling none, departed.
That was it. Second jab June 20.
Documentation handouts included the information that the vaccine is “unapproved”. Odd that millions of humans around the world clamber to introduce an officially “unapproved” substance into our bodies. (Gosh, I miss the days of Donald Trump asserting a dose of “light introduced into the body” killed Covid, “like a miracle”. Ah, the good olde days! Not!

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While nervous about driving on the “other” side of the road again, I collected my vehicle from a friend’s house. Then, within the first 50 feet behind the wheel, I did was not look both ways… and 4 cyclists coming from the left almost slammed into me! One of them yelled, “You f***ing idiot.” 

I concur. I made a f***ing idiot move, erroneously over-estimating my ability quickly to adjust to a series of long and arduous flights, re-gaining a day, and hopping into a vehicle without adequate preparation. The good news? I was superably careful on the road after that.

***

Alas. My houseboat: covered in spiders and spider webs, dust and debris, cliff swallows’ nests, algae, and the inside jammed with a deflated recycled Sea Eagle inflatable I’d purchased before departing a year and a half ago. Frankly, it was an eyesore.
And small. A tight space after my mother’s large house.
And no running water. “Management” had, during my absence and without informing me, moved the boat from a covered slip into an uncovered slip. The shore/slip-based hosepipe, transporter of water into the boat, wasn’t connected. No splitter hardware – until I purchased one from a local hardware store. Luckily, after I suffered a 3-day long bout of vomiting, etc., after drinking hosepipe water contaminated, I learning later, with agricultural and other waste, I’d stocked up on dozens of bottles of drinking water. (A moral conundrum: I “disapprove” of purchasing plastic water bottles, but I approved of drinking water and not vomiting so I’ve a “boatload” of plastic water bottles.)
Still have a long way to go for onboard livability but the spiders have been put on notice: vacate the premises. For now, I’m winning the battle of the boat reclamation – under extreme conditions.
I departed South Africa in early winter and emerged into California’s early summer, Memorial Day, May 31, sunrise 5:46am, sunset at 8:23 pm – and temperature 104 F/40 C.
The cliff swallows, incoming migrants from South America, start their twittering at about 4:30 am. Wonderful sounds of birds, insects, fish on water’s surface as Life beyond Human “does its thing.” A precious gift that I cherish.
The San Joaquin River refreshes, too.
And, the site of my jab – upper left arm – went through the usual: some tenderness and swelling – now gone.
Quarantining for 20 days has its benefits: a clean houseboat; swimming again, several times per day; blue herons and night herons, turtles, home rocking gently with the gentle tides….
It’s good to be here.

Blue heron (tall, left) and night heron.