For the love of sailing (a pirogue)

A gallery of a Pirogue boat launch at the remote Belo-sur-mer on the West Coast of Madagascar.

“A wet sheet and a flowing sea, a wind that follows fast

and fills the white rustling sail

and bends the gallant mast” – Allan Cunningham

Pirogue on fire

“When a great adventure is launched with a powerful thrust, fatigue in the muscles and doubts in the mind are swept away by a fullness that moves life along like a breath from the depths of the soul.”
― Bernard Moitessier, Tamata and the Alliance

Sun going down

Belo-sur-mer siloutte

“Give me a spirit that on this life’s rough sea

Loves t’have his sails filled with a lusty wind,

Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack

And his rapt ship run on her side so low

That she drinks water, and her keel ploughs air.”

–   George Chapman

Boat porter

If you’re going through difficult times today, hold steady. It will change soon. If you are experiencing smooth sailing and easy times now, brace yourself. It will change soon. The only thing you can be certain of is change.”
― James C. Dobson, Life on the Edge: The Next Generation’s Guide to a Meaningful Future

Malagasy Pirogue

“But that’s how it is on a sailing ship, and in this respect its journey parallels that of life: simply knowing where you want to go isn’t enough, because life is a windblown voyage, consisting mainly of the detours imposed by alternating calm and storm.”
― Carsten Jensen, We, the Drowned

Belo-sur-mer pirogue

“For those of you who wish to get a feel for it, get in the car and bring it up to fifty miles an hour and then stick your head and arms outside and, while driving, try to fold up a simple bath towel in the wind”
― Gary Paulsen, Caught by the Sea

All set to sail

“Calm sailing doesn’t come from calm waters, it comes from having a good navigator; a good crew and a good vessel.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

Belo-sur-mer bay

“The warmly cool, clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing, redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped up—flaked up, with rose-water snow.”
― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, The Whale

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