Alan, Terry (with the knee brace), Frank (with the bad back) and photographer (with his new walking stick) |
Based on the shadows we were heading north, but it is just a bit of poetic license |
We passed the Eco Resort: Praia do Canal Nature Resort whose website is beautifull but we thought that from the outside it looked more like a Gulag: fences and grey concrete with few windows. Our path from Alltrails apparently went throught the resort, but we were told that it was no longer passable as they had dug a deep ditch at the far end. We thought it best to ask no more questions but passed on.
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I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over
John would have been proud of him. |
Terry, he had been talking about his imminent car journey back to the UK and the joys of the ferry to Dover. He was not thinking of stately Spanish galleons.
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,With a cargo of Tyne coal,Road-rails, pig-lead,Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
It was about 3 1/2 kms to Praia de Vale Figeura. It was easy walking and so the conversation turned to education and it was decided that the AWW blog should be used to advance the reader's knowledge.
The Keat's poem is a Petrarchan sonnet, also known as an Italian sonnet, divided into an octave and a sestet, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-b-a-a-b-b-a-c-d-c-d-c-d. After the main idea has been introduced and the image played upon in the octave, the poem undergoes a volta, a change in the persona's train of thought. The volta, typical of Italian sonnets, is put very effectively to use by Keats as he refines his previous idea. While the octave offers the poet as a literary explorer, the volta brings in the discovery of Chapman's Homer, the subject of which is further expanded through the use of imagery and comparisons which convey the poet's sense of awe at the discovery.
As is typical of sonnets in English, the metre is iambic pentameter, though not all of the lines scan perfectly
Home, home on the rangeWhere the deer and the antelope playWhere seldom is heard a discouraging wordAnd the skies are not cloudy all day
All that sea air had made us hungry and as we moved inland the temperature started to increase, so when we found some shade and the breeze picked up, we stopped for lunch.
And it was another hour to the finish, prior to the rain.
Clouds billowing up before the storm |
Getting back to blogs of yore, waxing lyrically over other matters...Well done the three lone rangers
ReplyDeleteSolitude does funny things to grown adults.
ReplyDeleteLooks a good walk though.
....and I see that Alan has got his selftimer working....
ReplyDelete