Planet in Profile

Sailing north, still reporting in hindsight, but this post relays the most unexpected and spectacular memories of this final phase of my seventy5days.

Most of us know of the so-called, Ring of Fire. Until you witness the Kuril Islands, or just The Kurils, <Russian WIKI has better images> you cannot believe what our lovely planet once was.

The islands sweep down from the Kamchatka Peninsula, toward Japan.  They were once Japanese islands The most southerly four remain in dispute, "Four islands - which Russia calls the Southern Kurils and Japan calls the Northern Territories - are the subject of a 60-year-old dispute between the two nations". but most are assuredly Russian territory. Here is the wikiFile on the dispute. It is May, early spring, and these remote places remain solidly snow-covered.  (A fellow passenger showed me photos from a September crossing, last fall, and the same islands were green.) As a northern central prairie person, I understand a grey spring deciduous forest not in leaf, but I expected to see some coniferous.  No.  These appear not only glacial, but dramatically volcanic.

Volcano follows volcano.  Large and majestic.  Island after island.  Multiple volcanoes. I am told, there are 4 lakes on that one there.  A cultivated area on that island. We saw a few vessels in military precision, identical profiles and equidistant apart, stationary, between us and shore.  Some thought they were fishing, but I think we were being welcomed to Russian waters. And then a sunset.  It did not rival my Osaka Sunrise, but it was enduring and made me feel whole as we skirted north with the Russian motherland off our port bow.

It is a memory that I will keep.  Decadence aside, I do not know how else I would have ever seen this amazing series of volcanoes.  Dozens upon dozens.  Standing guard. Facing the north Pacific.  I love northern BC's coast.  This is not the same. Not in any way.  There were some of what I might call polygon cliffs, like I'd seen on the southeast of Jeju, but mostly they were bold and beautiful, graceful volcanoes.  The giants in the distance were the once that took my breath away.  Many little sisters, and then suddenly, between them, far in the distance, revealed between, in the blue, a giant mother, teasingly a white delicate profile screaming, "Hey you! Come now, pull out your binoculars and have a wee peek at me." Ghostly present.

Humble.  Isolated  beauty. Power.  The wintery North American Arctic likely generates a similar ownership of place. But I wonder if the volcanic underscore is a factor here.

I am Still writing in #dayFog.  The only weather worse than day fog is #DayBlizzard, if you are driving or sailing.

#whiteOut, but with the steady roar of gentle surf against midship.
~n Post 38 Day62/75