Thursday, 13 September 2007

Where Inuksuit
come on holiday?...

in the form of Inunnguaq, Tammariikkuti & places of power & the sea vigilant. Following Inuit traditions of navigation, the Niungvaliruluit type of Inuksuk, give windowed alignment, acting as sight lines to places of power & importance beyond the horizon. They still have relevant precise geographical distance marking & direction use that gps is only just figuring out. They also provided doorways between earth & the spirit realm to be used by the shaman & harboured within their patterns are reenactments of ceremonial hunting...tributes to leviathan, shadowed by stone qajaq.
As much as they carry spiritual significance,
Inuksuit were once also used to give the illusion of greater Inuit hunter numbers, stone human forms on the barren horizon, forcing paths upon Caribou through terrain of beast migrations far to vast for corraling & circumnavigation by foot.

Inuksuit mark an immediate wild shoreline with only a few kayak friendly landing zones. They wait amongst sea serpents & stories & stone kayaks, strung like the very sinew of echoes, silence, patience, & grace themselves. They lean into the force winds of winters hemispherical blizzards & brace against storm surge, to lay somehow respite within their construction among tiny Arctic flowers during warmer months. Their mood is often almost mischievous. The stones taste of ocean salt when you lick them. But can anyone guess the exact location... woolly sock wi a hole in they toe, to the winner aye.

Dimming light over natures rolling clinic - 9pm & we retire to stone hearths, stew & warm drams. I will, in my fashion, sleep with the window ajar & reflect on each individuals progress; the last sound across my ears, being wind driven & oceanic, through rough grasses.

After thought: Leaving the ocean to silence & a winter skimmed temperament, today the ice felt as though it had drifted Southward, just an increment, but a drift nonetheless. It's noticeable like that, when you live inside the aerial boundaries & tides, it's somehow more honest to recognize it for yourself, recognize it touching your own skin, than saying, It's December, it's winter...or it's March, therefore it's Spring. Anyways, the combat rolling workshop was refreshing, the straight-jacket roll, an act of tenacity in strong, cold surf. There is nothing like a practical lesson & demo in aiding explanation how each roll develops to
handle a variety of different situations & needs & I like to make sure both novice & intermediate benefit from such displays, that both hold eachother up & coach eachothers experiences forward, that they are hands-on, even in a spectating capacity. They have just learned that even the experienced, the masters, practise the basics over & over again. They have just seen & felt the reality of practical & swift rolling application when the main objective becomes simple preservation of that all important instinct to breathe. That's all it is aye. Roll to survive, a tool in the Inuit toolbox of surviving a life inextricably linked to the ocean. The rest of the rolls, the glitter on the girl so to speak, developed from a humorous & playful inter community one-up-man-ship. The group have learned that even the most advanced roller will regress into a basic bombproof repertoire of rolls when survival is on the line, leaving showmanship as a distant absurdity.
Soon we will explore combating the Walrus Pull in strong winds & an exciting surf enviroment & throughout the
great strengthener, I'll do my best to guide adjustment of their spatial skills in an inverted & maytagged world, asking for performance where it counts, examination of physcology. Go into the squall & roll, running for the harbour will only make you good at running...for the harbour. To a degree, there's no such thing as bad weather, only bad understanding & interpretation - The 17th will see me back home on Skye, for some clean woolly socks, a fight with a rubber chicken, & a rest.

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posted by •≈ Sgian Dubh at 19:40:00 |

2 Retorts:

At 21 September 2007 at 14:02, Blogger Rhiannon

Neist Point, Skye...just blogged about the stones there last week.


At 22 September 2007 at 13:01, Blogger •≈ Sgian Dubh

You are of course, totally spot on Rhiannon. It is indeed Neist Point, complete with mad lighthouse inhabitant, Roy Stolen, who unyieldingly chases locals from his headland, going so far as to insert fake graveyards as a deterrent to walkers, climbers etcetera... To add some appropriate trivia, the name Niest backtracks in Gaelic & further into Norse as An Éist, meaning The Horse or, more likely in origin, Like a Horse, or Horses Head, due to the shaping produced by timeless erosion & so on. Its full name should really be marked then as Rubha na h-Éist translating back to mean Neist Point, as it is in modern day referral.
That must have gone over the heads of O.S & the powers that be when they were sorting their etchings aye.

Well anyway, a suprising amount of sea kayaks pass along the coast here never noticing these stone work gardens clattering around above. They are a great unexpected addition to a journey when the unsighted clamber out of the sea to stretch their legs on a tour. Our lost & mischievous Inuksuit never fail to raise smiles & extended bouts of blethering.

Nice blog you guys are building there & congratulations on winning a woolly sock wi a hole in it -as described-. This unique item will be airlifted out by twin otter next week along with a new & exciting quiz:

Spot, they sleekit yow.