by Robert Clay
A long time ago, when men and women lived in caves, they had to make a decision as to who would do what. They held a meeting at which the woman wore a particularly short piece of fur, to decide who would stay in the cave and tidy up a bit, and who would go out and kill a mammoth with a pointed stick for dinner. The man, somewhat distracted by all the leg on show, got the mammoth task (pun very much intended). But one day he limped back into the cave, covered in blood but carrying a large portion of mammoth under his arm, to encounter a new phenomena, nagging. He was told he wasn’t pulling his weight, and after the hunt, he should help tidy up the cave and wash up the eating stones. The man agreed, but asked if the woman would help out at the next mammoth hunt, to which she replied, “Are you out of your tiny fucking mind?”
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query robert clay. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query robert clay. Sort by date Show all posts
20080219
20080415
Soul Mate
by Robert Clay
I was perhaps 10,000 years old when I first met her, yet I was still young, for that is the lot of an immortal. But despite all those lifetimes I have lived, from birth in the caves at Lascaux, those long treks with Alexander’s phalanxes, to the technical wonders of this strange age, I never knew love, until now. She is the one bright flower on that great slope of time I have lived, the love I have sought for more than one hundred centuries. That was yet another lifetime ago, and now her long red hair is gray, the once silken skin wrinkled with memories, the shining eyes sad now, because she knows my secret. I cannot age, but when she goes, I will follow. I would sooner be with her in oblivion than live forever without her.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
I was perhaps 10,000 years old when I first met her, yet I was still young, for that is the lot of an immortal. But despite all those lifetimes I have lived, from birth in the caves at Lascaux, those long treks with Alexander’s phalanxes, to the technical wonders of this strange age, I never knew love, until now. She is the one bright flower on that great slope of time I have lived, the love I have sought for more than one hundred centuries. That was yet another lifetime ago, and now her long red hair is gray, the once silken skin wrinkled with memories, the shining eyes sad now, because she knows my secret. I cannot age, but when she goes, I will follow. I would sooner be with her in oblivion than live forever without her.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080119
Come the Iron Night
by Robert Clay
It tumbles through the void in a great meandering cartwheel, end over end, back and forth like the pendulum of hell. A cold, dark, iron lump, leftover from some long forgotten cataclysmic creation event. It follows a path carved into space-time by the laws of physics, never ending, indisputable. It has done so since the beginning of local time, or as local as you can be in the vastness of space. But it is going somewhere, no doubt about that, a small blue planet lies dead-ahead, or as dead-ahead as you can be on an elliptical destiny. It even has a name, Army, but don’t smile just yet: Army is short for Armageddon.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Tactical Advantage, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
It tumbles through the void in a great meandering cartwheel, end over end, back and forth like the pendulum of hell. A cold, dark, iron lump, leftover from some long forgotten cataclysmic creation event. It follows a path carved into space-time by the laws of physics, never ending, indisputable. It has done so since the beginning of local time, or as local as you can be in the vastness of space. But it is going somewhere, no doubt about that, a small blue planet lies dead-ahead, or as dead-ahead as you can be on an elliptical destiny. It even has a name, Army, but don’t smile just yet: Army is short for Armageddon.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Tactical Advantage, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20070927
Testosteronium
by Robert Clay
I looked down at the small cold silvery ball of plutonium. The cold is an illusion of course, deep down inside that metal ball is the sort of heat that can power a city, or burn one. MANmade element? Well, women have more sense. They would prefer to make an omelette than this shiny little key that opens the gateway to hell, and I’m inclined to agree with them. Not as much fun though.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Too Late for Sorrow, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
I looked down at the small cold silvery ball of plutonium. The cold is an illusion of course, deep down inside that metal ball is the sort of heat that can power a city, or burn one. MANmade element? Well, women have more sense. They would prefer to make an omelette than this shiny little key that opens the gateway to hell, and I’m inclined to agree with them. Not as much fun though.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Too Late for Sorrow, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080312
Just a Glimpse
by Robert Clay
When the limo pulled up the paparazzi descended on it like locusts. Cameras were already flashing through the car windows as I looked at the girl. She looked nervous, frightened even, well, I was paid to protect her body, not her mind, assuming that is, she had a mind. I took out the bottle of baby oil and began to smear it on my thumbs, then I took her hands to do the same as she looked at me with questioning eyes. "They'll push the cameras into your face, hold up your hand as if to cover your face and gently settle it on the lens, then smear it with your thumb, it won't stop the photographs, but it will piss off the paps, always a good thing, and perhaps next time they'll stand back." She smiled, a smile that made little dimples on her cheeks, a glimpse of incredible beauty that made me catch my breath just for a moment, just for a moment, but I've put a lot of steel around my heart over the years, so I opened the door.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
When the limo pulled up the paparazzi descended on it like locusts. Cameras were already flashing through the car windows as I looked at the girl. She looked nervous, frightened even, well, I was paid to protect her body, not her mind, assuming that is, she had a mind. I took out the bottle of baby oil and began to smear it on my thumbs, then I took her hands to do the same as she looked at me with questioning eyes. "They'll push the cameras into your face, hold up your hand as if to cover your face and gently settle it on the lens, then smear it with your thumb, it won't stop the photographs, but it will piss off the paps, always a good thing, and perhaps next time they'll stand back." She smiled, a smile that made little dimples on her cheeks, a glimpse of incredible beauty that made me catch my breath just for a moment, just for a moment, but I've put a lot of steel around my heart over the years, so I opened the door.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20071229
Tactical Advantage
by Robert Clay
He is a magnificent fellow, this samurai, as he stands before me. He might be tall, hard to tell in those plain robes and that classic warrior’s crouch. His legs are angled, feet apart, arms held high as they grip the sword hilt casually but firmly, the long sliver of steel arching high above his head. His unblinking eyes are fixed on me, calculating precisely the moment when that sword slices through the air, making a sound not unlike the whisper of death. There is a millennia of history in his stance, generations of training and a lifetime of dedication to an honorable code. I admire him greatly, but I’m still going to pull the trigger.
6S
Robert Clay, author of A Question of Physics, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
He is a magnificent fellow, this samurai, as he stands before me. He might be tall, hard to tell in those plain robes and that classic warrior’s crouch. His legs are angled, feet apart, arms held high as they grip the sword hilt casually but firmly, the long sliver of steel arching high above his head. His unblinking eyes are fixed on me, calculating precisely the moment when that sword slices through the air, making a sound not unlike the whisper of death. There is a millennia of history in his stance, generations of training and a lifetime of dedication to an honorable code. I admire him greatly, but I’m still going to pull the trigger.
6S
Robert Clay, author of A Question of Physics, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20071129
A Question of Physics
by Robert Clay
At 14 years old Taplow was as big and strong as an 18 year old, and he took full advantage of this fact because Taplow was a bully. He would push smaller kids around, pin them up against the wall for stomach punches, and that sneer, if I remember nothing else about Taplow, I remember that bully's sneer. My younger brother Josh grew up small and spindly due to an early childhood illness, even so he was always laughing because for him, every day of life was a bonus. He started school two years behind me, but after a week of Taplow I saw something unbelievable, he went a whole day without smiling. Something had to be done, so I came up behind Taplow with a cricket bat and swinging hard, bought the edge down on his skull, crumpling bone into brain with breakfast egg-like precision. Taplow doesn't bully anymore, it's not something a drooling vegetable can do, and I'm locked away, but Josh is laughing again so I don't mind; you see, it's all a question of physics.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Moth-Like Stars, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
At 14 years old Taplow was as big and strong as an 18 year old, and he took full advantage of this fact because Taplow was a bully. He would push smaller kids around, pin them up against the wall for stomach punches, and that sneer, if I remember nothing else about Taplow, I remember that bully's sneer. My younger brother Josh grew up small and spindly due to an early childhood illness, even so he was always laughing because for him, every day of life was a bonus. He started school two years behind me, but after a week of Taplow I saw something unbelievable, he went a whole day without smiling. Something had to be done, so I came up behind Taplow with a cricket bat and swinging hard, bought the edge down on his skull, crumpling bone into brain with breakfast egg-like precision. Taplow doesn't bully anymore, it's not something a drooling vegetable can do, and I'm locked away, but Josh is laughing again so I don't mind; you see, it's all a question of physics.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Moth-Like Stars, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080127
My Excuse; What’s Yours?
by Robert Clay
Let me see if I've got this right. According to cosmologists and theoretical physicists, not only is the universe expanding, but that expansion is accelerating. If this acceleration continues, then, in time, the entire universe, right down to the last tiny atomic particle, will be ripped apart. Not the big bang, or the big crunch, but the big rip - utter obliteration in a blaze of glory, without the blaze (or the glory for that matter). Mmmmmmmm. I think I’m going down to the pub.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Come the Iron Night, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Let me see if I've got this right. According to cosmologists and theoretical physicists, not only is the universe expanding, but that expansion is accelerating. If this acceleration continues, then, in time, the entire universe, right down to the last tiny atomic particle, will be ripped apart. Not the big bang, or the big crunch, but the big rip - utter obliteration in a blaze of glory, without the blaze (or the glory for that matter). Mmmmmmmm. I think I’m going down to the pub.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Come the Iron Night, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20071105
Moth-Like Stars
by Robert Clay
We can’t be sure when the first star disappeared, but the first one we noticed was Polaris. No wispy filament such as an exploding star might leave, no remnant at all, just gone. Within six months half of all the night sky stars were missing, and no matter how hard we tried, we could not explain it. Now they’re all gone, the sky is a black empty void, even to the vast distances our telescopes can search. It’s as if space and time have been consumed by that great mythical dragon of yesteryear. Two days ago the sun went down early, and it’s getting very cold sitting here in the dark.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Witches End, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
We can’t be sure when the first star disappeared, but the first one we noticed was Polaris. No wispy filament such as an exploding star might leave, no remnant at all, just gone. Within six months half of all the night sky stars were missing, and no matter how hard we tried, we could not explain it. Now they’re all gone, the sky is a black empty void, even to the vast distances our telescopes can search. It’s as if space and time have been consumed by that great mythical dragon of yesteryear. Two days ago the sun went down early, and it’s getting very cold sitting here in the dark.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Witches End, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080419
The Coming of the Light
by Robert Clay
You must have seen it, that early morning sunrise. A bright white dome peering over the horizon, the eye of life scattering the cold dark shadows of the night. I stood up and breathed deeply, glad to have another day, but something was wrong. The sun shouldn't rise into a mushroom shape. Some invisible unforgiving monster was racing toward me, sweeping aside trees birds and houses in it's path. I opened my mouth to rage against the coming of the light, but the blastwave struck and turned me to dust.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
You must have seen it, that early morning sunrise. A bright white dome peering over the horizon, the eye of life scattering the cold dark shadows of the night. I stood up and breathed deeply, glad to have another day, but something was wrong. The sun shouldn't rise into a mushroom shape. Some invisible unforgiving monster was racing toward me, sweeping aside trees birds and houses in it's path. I opened my mouth to rage against the coming of the light, but the blastwave struck and turned me to dust.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080204
Dummies Guide to Russian Roulette
by Robert Clay
CLICK, well, it was a five to one shot, I knew I was safe. CLICK, still favourable odds, no sweat. CLICK, starting to get a bit iffy now, I mean, from the beginning I was on even odds for getting it in the first three. CLICK, still two to one in my favour, I was quietly confident. CLICK, hah hah... I beat you you little metallic monster, so there’s a bullet in the last one, but I’m not going to play anymore so up yours. I win, I win, I’m just going to slam you into this drawer because I’m the winner and you are the loser, BANG, OH SHI-
6S
Robert Clay, author of My Excuse; What's Yours?, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
CLICK, well, it was a five to one shot, I knew I was safe. CLICK, still favourable odds, no sweat. CLICK, starting to get a bit iffy now, I mean, from the beginning I was on even odds for getting it in the first three. CLICK, still two to one in my favour, I was quietly confident. CLICK, hah hah... I beat you you little metallic monster, so there’s a bullet in the last one, but I’m not going to play anymore so up yours. I win, I win, I’m just going to slam you into this drawer because I’m the winner and you are the loser, BANG, OH SHI-
6S
Robert Clay, author of My Excuse; What's Yours?, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20090425
Side Effect
by Robert Clay
I built the device with the best of intentions, after all, what better motive could you have than to save the world, the human race and all the other species that live here. The details are complex, but the principle is simple enough, the device uses the Moon as an antenna, scans for artificial power sources that emit carbon dioxide and when found, wraps them in a compressed bubble of time and space dilation, in effect, shoves them off into some other universe. I know that seems drastic, but we need drastic, we're just going to have to get by using less energy, sorry folks, but that's the decision I've made. Unfortunately there has been a side-effect, because right now it is mid-day, and the sky is clear, it is also black, I can see the stars. The sun has vanished, I'm not really sure why, it doesn't emit carbon dioxide and it is not artificial as far as I know, but I suspect it is shining right now in some other universe. One thing is for sure as I stand here watching a layer of ice form over everything in sight... global warming is no longer a problem.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
I built the device with the best of intentions, after all, what better motive could you have than to save the world, the human race and all the other species that live here. The details are complex, but the principle is simple enough, the device uses the Moon as an antenna, scans for artificial power sources that emit carbon dioxide and when found, wraps them in a compressed bubble of time and space dilation, in effect, shoves them off into some other universe. I know that seems drastic, but we need drastic, we're just going to have to get by using less energy, sorry folks, but that's the decision I've made. Unfortunately there has been a side-effect, because right now it is mid-day, and the sky is clear, it is also black, I can see the stars. The sun has vanished, I'm not really sure why, it doesn't emit carbon dioxide and it is not artificial as far as I know, but I suspect it is shining right now in some other universe. One thing is for sure as I stand here watching a layer of ice form over everything in sight... global warming is no longer a problem.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20090216
Lost Soul
by Robert Clay
This morning my wife killed me. I don't think she meant to do it, we were having yet another row about... well... I can't even remember, and in the heat of the moment she pushed, I fell, and zap. The strange thing is all this life after death stuff turns out to be true, here I am, in some non-corporeal form, moving about the house, unseen, but still inter-acting with my former world, I can even hear her crying in the bedroom. I'm supposed to move on, according to these strange little jeebie creatures that keep appearing and pointing upward (a good sign I hope), but I don't want to. I could stay here and haunt her, I could make her life a living hell in punishment for killing me, but I don't want to do that either because even though I'm dead, I can't live without her. I can't leave because I still love her.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK. (Click here to make a donation to Bob, half of which will support 6S.)
This morning my wife killed me. I don't think she meant to do it, we were having yet another row about... well... I can't even remember, and in the heat of the moment she pushed, I fell, and zap. The strange thing is all this life after death stuff turns out to be true, here I am, in some non-corporeal form, moving about the house, unseen, but still inter-acting with my former world, I can even hear her crying in the bedroom. I'm supposed to move on, according to these strange little jeebie creatures that keep appearing and pointing upward (a good sign I hope), but I don't want to. I could stay here and haunt her, I could make her life a living hell in punishment for killing me, but I don't want to do that either because even though I'm dead, I can't live without her. I can't leave because I still love her.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK. (Click here to make a donation to Bob, half of which will support 6S.)
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080503
Albert's Epiphany
by Robert Clay
Albert was a nice bloke, in fact, you could say he was the purest form of socialist. Albert always talked and listened to people, and firmly believed everybody should have their say, and have some input into the well-being of the human species. He did this for many years, until one day this conglomeration of opinions and thoughts in his head suddenly collapsed into a pattern, and Albert had his epiphany. He suddenly realised there was a way to put an end to intolerance, hate, grief, tragedy, betrayal, war and all the other things that the human race is so good at. He was about to announce this to the world when the men in white coats came to fit him neatly into a gag and straitjacket and introduce him to his new home, a very small, very white, very padded cell. Well, you can't have people like Albert interfering with the species determination to follow the road to hell, can you?
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Albert was a nice bloke, in fact, you could say he was the purest form of socialist. Albert always talked and listened to people, and firmly believed everybody should have their say, and have some input into the well-being of the human species. He did this for many years, until one day this conglomeration of opinions and thoughts in his head suddenly collapsed into a pattern, and Albert had his epiphany. He suddenly realised there was a way to put an end to intolerance, hate, grief, tragedy, betrayal, war and all the other things that the human race is so good at. He was about to announce this to the world when the men in white coats came to fit him neatly into a gag and straitjacket and introduce him to his new home, a very small, very white, very padded cell. Well, you can't have people like Albert interfering with the species determination to follow the road to hell, can you?
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20210625
Side Effect
by Robert Clay
I built the device with the best of intentions, after all, what better motive could you have than to save the world, the human race and all the other species that live here. The details are complex, but the principle is simple enough, the device uses the Moon as an antenna, scans for artificial power sources that emit carbon dioxide and when found, wraps them in a compressed bubble of time and space dilation, in effect, shoves them off into some other universe. I know that seems drastic, but we need drastic, we're just going to have to get by using less energy, sorry folks, but that's the decision I've made. Unfortunately there has been a side-effect, because right now it is mid-day, and the sky is clear, it is also black, I can see the stars. The sun has vanished, I'm not really sure why, it doesn't emit carbon dioxide and it is not artificial as far as I know, but I suspect it is shining right now in some other universe. One thing is for sure as I stand here watching a layer of ice form over everything in sight... global warming is no longer a problem.
6S
Robert Clay is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
I built the device with the best of intentions, after all, what better motive could you have than to save the world, the human race and all the other species that live here. The details are complex, but the principle is simple enough, the device uses the Moon as an antenna, scans for artificial power sources that emit carbon dioxide and when found, wraps them in a compressed bubble of time and space dilation, in effect, shoves them off into some other universe. I know that seems drastic, but we need drastic, we're just going to have to get by using less energy, sorry folks, but that's the decision I've made. Unfortunately there has been a side-effect, because right now it is mid-day, and the sky is clear, it is also black, I can see the stars. The sun has vanished, I'm not really sure why, it doesn't emit carbon dioxide and it is not artificial as far as I know, but I suspect it is shining right now in some other universe. One thing is for sure as I stand here watching a layer of ice form over everything in sight... global warming is no longer a problem.
6S
Robert Clay is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20070908
Too Late for Sorrow
by Robert Clay
I can feel the tiredness now, creeping up like a cat on the hunt. The blood is puddling out, making the grimy wooden floor look like polished mahogany. The brain, frantically trying to survive, is shutting down systems in order to preserve itself. It’s true I think, you do die from the feet up. I want to say I’m sorry to all those I’ve put down this route, all those faces flying by like the pages of a book you don’t want to read. But the fixed glazed expressions of the dead are not in the mood for my remorse, instead they grin with skull teeth and welcome me to their world.
6S
Robert Clay is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
I can feel the tiredness now, creeping up like a cat on the hunt. The blood is puddling out, making the grimy wooden floor look like polished mahogany. The brain, frantically trying to survive, is shutting down systems in order to preserve itself. It’s true I think, you do die from the feet up. I want to say I’m sorry to all those I’ve put down this route, all those faces flying by like the pages of a book you don’t want to read. But the fixed glazed expressions of the dead are not in the mood for my remorse, instead they grin with skull teeth and welcome me to their world.
6S
Robert Clay is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20071007
Witches End
by Robert Clay
Mrs. Milliband was old, older than anyone we knew, and she lived in a big Munster-like house with a sprawling garden, filled with strange twisted trees and wild-eyed cats that prowled this mini Serengeti in the middle of our urban landscape. We were just kids, so of course, Mrs. Milliband was a witch, and we imagined her dark boarded rooms as being filled with cobwebs, bubbling pots of terrible brews, and shelves, lots of shelves, crammed with jars wherein unspeakable glistening things floated in murky oily fluids. So one day, we crept onto her grounds, terrified and fascinated, to rub the grime off a window and peer inside in search of horror, and we found it. No pots or jars, no cobwebs to speak of, just letters, dozens of them scattered on tables and chairs, with one still clutched in her dead withered hand where she lay on the floor, jaw slack, still open but unseeing eyes glistening wet, as if they had been crying forever. We learned later that the letters had been written long ago in some distant muddy trench by a young soldier, before he was consumed by war, leaving his new wife alone, to read, and spend a lifetime dying of a broken heart. After that, I never believed in witches again.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Testosteronium, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Mrs. Milliband was old, older than anyone we knew, and she lived in a big Munster-like house with a sprawling garden, filled with strange twisted trees and wild-eyed cats that prowled this mini Serengeti in the middle of our urban landscape. We were just kids, so of course, Mrs. Milliband was a witch, and we imagined her dark boarded rooms as being filled with cobwebs, bubbling pots of terrible brews, and shelves, lots of shelves, crammed with jars wherein unspeakable glistening things floated in murky oily fluids. So one day, we crept onto her grounds, terrified and fascinated, to rub the grime off a window and peer inside in search of horror, and we found it. No pots or jars, no cobwebs to speak of, just letters, dozens of them scattered on tables and chairs, with one still clutched in her dead withered hand where she lay on the floor, jaw slack, still open but unseeing eyes glistening wet, as if they had been crying forever. We learned later that the letters had been written long ago in some distant muddy trench by a young soldier, before he was consumed by war, leaving his new wife alone, to read, and spend a lifetime dying of a broken heart. After that, I never believed in witches again.
6S
Robert Clay, author of Testosteronium, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
20080603
Seventh Wave
by Robert Clay
You've probably heard that old saying, every seventh wave is a big one. I'm not sure about the number 7 since I only ever saw two really big waves in my years at sea, one off Cape Agulhas, a notorious place for waves, and one real monster that climbed up out of those long North Pacific rollers like the savage head of some prehistoric predator rising above the tall grass. This was literally a wall of water, a Tyrannosaurus wave filled with rage and fury against these little men in their puny steel ship who dared defy nature. Well I'm still here, although the ship got badly mauled, in places the paintwork stripped down to bare metal by the sheer ferocity of that mighty water beast. I've been away from the sea for years now, perhaps I didn't want to give nature a "third time lucky" option on my life. One thing I do know, the sea is a relentless bitch, so when I'm down on the beach, I keep an eye out for that seventh wave.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
You've probably heard that old saying, every seventh wave is a big one. I'm not sure about the number 7 since I only ever saw two really big waves in my years at sea, one off Cape Agulhas, a notorious place for waves, and one real monster that climbed up out of those long North Pacific rollers like the savage head of some prehistoric predator rising above the tall grass. This was literally a wall of water, a Tyrannosaurus wave filled with rage and fury against these little men in their puny steel ship who dared defy nature. Well I'm still here, although the ship got badly mauled, in places the paintwork stripped down to bare metal by the sheer ferocity of that mighty water beast. I've been away from the sea for years now, perhaps I didn't want to give nature a "third time lucky" option on my life. One thing I do know, the sea is a relentless bitch, so when I'm down on the beach, I keep an eye out for that seventh wave.
6S
Robert Clay, whose full catalog is here, is a Seafarer now stranded on land. He lives in Cornwall in the UK.
Posted by
Robert McEvily
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