Another One Bites the Dust

Three years of long, dark and uneventful winters in Central Maine led me to start taking pictures, intern at Rogues Gallery, start a blog, and most recently watch semi-professional wrestling in a nearby civic center. A flyer tipped my roommates and me off to the night of blows, body slams and pile drivers. I entertained the idea of actually attending the wrestling matches with the same fervor as promising a high school friend to watch the Lord of the Rings Trilogy back to back. As Tuesday turned to Thursday, my alternatives quickly evaporated and the imminence of watching fake tanned men hop around on a glorified trampoline grew from that of a conversation piece with acquaintances to a planned rendezvous with a group of close friends.

Inspired by famous wrestler-turned-politician, Jesse "The Body" Ventura and the granddaddy of Hulkamaniacs, Hulk Hogan, these wrestlers travel around New England on weekends battling it out in bars, civic centers and high school gymnasiums.

Arranged on folding tables surrounding the ring, memorabilia such as these vintage figures, posters and DVD's acted a reminder to the foundations of the sport and a reference point for the character of all of the wrestlers and the attitude of the fans. I am interested in what inspires people, regardless of my personal preferences. The process of inspiration to create is universal, with no specific inputs or outputs but with a transformation as the only consistent part of the equation.

This is Pro Wrestling in Maine!

Pile Driver.

I was surprised by the contrasts between the brightness and optimism of the foundation of the sport and the reality of wrestling now. Wrestlers of old wore bright colors, had goofy hair cuts and had larger than life personas. Today many wrestlers look like they are auditioning for a horror movie.

A close line in the making.

For two and a half hours a dozen men assumed various aliases and romped in front of some 50 or so Mainers. They worked the crowd and screamed.

The last jump of the match.

Here are some more links,
Another One Bites the Dust (Picasa).

Rockland Harbor Breakwater Lighthouse

In 1881, the city of Rockland Maine spent a princely sum, $750,000, to make a 4300 foot breakwater to protect their harbor from the Nor'easters that define central Maine winters. Eighteen years and 732,777 tons of granite later, the light turned on at the Lighthouse.

On Saturday afternoon, I made the 7/8 of mile walk out to the lighthouse with my roommate Nick to see the regional landmark.

The lighthouse is stunning; Brick on one side, iconic New England farm house on the other.

After half an hour of taking photographs and taking in the scenery, the elements drove us back to mainland.

Needless to say, it was beautiful.

As the white light house blended into the Maine landscape on the long walk back, I started awkwardly singing the Talking Heads song, Road to Nowhere.

It was a one of my best outings in Maine.

Here are some more links,
Rockland Harbor Breakwater Light (Wiki),
Nor'easter (Wiki),
Rockland Lighthouse (Picasa).

Seaplanes

Growing up, I knew a family (The Vollums) who had a Turbo Grumman Goose. On weekends the Vollums would fly their Goose to a lake house in British Columbia or McCall Idaho. In under two hours they could be worlds away from their house in downtown Portland (Oregon). I will always remember my first ride in an "Airplane-go-water," as I lovingly called them.

Seaplanes are used for exploring the territories and connecting urban and remote worlds and thus are inherently rugged.

A couple times an hour, commercial seaplanes leave from Lake Union in downtown Seattle, shuttling commuters to and from the San Juan Islands and British Columbia. These seaplanes turn a 4 hour commute involving ferries and multiple highways into 45 minute plane ride.

This is what I imagine every seaplane pilot looking like.

Despite improved roads and highways, Seaplanes remain the preferred means of transportation in much of Alaska and British Columbia.

I want to live on a secluded island or lake and commute to work one of these guys.

The location of runways doesn't hold these guys back. Seaplanes can land on roughly 75% of the Earth's surface. Ohh the freedom...

Thanks to Seaplanes in the Great Northwest for some photos.

Here are some more links,
Seaplanes in the Great North West (Blog),
Grumman Goose (Wiki),
Howard Vollum (Wiki),
NW Seaplanes (Scheduled Seaplane flights from Seatle to the San Juan Islands and BC),
DHC-2 Beaver Wiki.

Rusticate, Verb

Rusticate- Verb: OED
1. intr. To go or retire into the country; to stay or sojourn in the country; to assume rural manners, to live a country life.
2. trans. a. To dismiss or ‘send down’ from a university for a specified time, as a punishment.
b. To remove or send (one) into, settle (one) in, the country. Also refl.

Example: Disenchanted with the grind of urban life, James rusticated, selling his belongings and moving to the backwoods of Maine.