#50th edition better not end in disaster

[like-the-cut-of-your-jib]

Just a quick note to followers, although I am following The Ocean Race, I likely won’t be blogging about it. There is only so many hours in the day!

Frankly, using the IMOCA foils in the Southern Ocean on a super LONG leg seems to me a recipe for disaster because the ability to slow down and not speed up is key.

Talk about alarms ringing and being in continual crisis management on the boats. Thank g*d they are using an autopilot to steer the boats, because the crews have enough to contend with…And let’s not talk about difficulties eating, drinking, being sea sick while attending to one’s natural needs combined with the biggest sleep deficits known to sailors.

Anyway, I sincerely hope that I am wrong about this iteration of The Ocean Race. Especially since they have announced that the IMOCAs will be used for the next iteration of the The Ocean Race and the The Ocean Race Europe as well.

NO BETS on the number of boats who will actually finish this race.

[bigyack-com]

US President Tears Into Environmental 'Doom' Mongers

Donald Trump tore into environmental "prophets of doom" at the Davos forum Tuesday.Davos: President Donald Trump tore into environmental "prophets of doom" at the Davos forum Tuesday, rejecting fiery warnings from teenage campaigner Greta Thunberg, and lauding the "unprecedented" US economy just hours ahead of his impeachment trial back home.Thunberg was in the audience in the Swiss Alps to hear the typically bullish speech by Trump, delivered shortly before the US Senate was to open the crucial next stage in his trial for abuse of power and obstruction.The 50th meeting of the World Economic Forum aimed for a strong focus on climate change but Trump made clear he had no time for Thunberg's warning that "our house is still on fire.""We must reject the perennial prophets of doom and their predictions of the apocalypse," said Trump, complaining that "they want to see us do badly".He claimed that "alarmists" had been wrong over the decades when predicting population crisis, mass starvation or the end of oil.Trump branded those warning of out-of-control global warming and other environmental disasters "the heirs of yesterday's foolish fortune tellers".The scathing assessment came just afer Switzerland's president, Simonetta Sommaruga, made an emotional appeal for saving the health of an ailing planet on the same stage.By contrast, Trump did not even mention global warming, a phenomenon that nearly all climate scientists say is dangerously accelerating, with possibly devastating results for humanity.Trump was just as unapologetic over his impeachment, which is now kicking into high gear.He said in Davos he was working for American investment, meeting with "the most important people in the world and we're bringing back tremendous business"."The other's just a hoax," he said of the "disgraceful" impeachment trial.The White House spokeswoman, Stephanie Grisham, said Trump "will be briefed by staff periodically" on the drama unfolding in Washington.Trump campaignsLarge parts of Trump's address sounded like a campaign speech aimed at a domestic audience as much as the Davos gathering of global political and business elites."Two years ago I told you we had launched the great American comeback," Trump said, referring to his last appearance at the yearly Davos bash. "Today I'm glad to declare the United States is in the midst of a great economic boom the likes of which the world has never seen before."Over and over, Trump brought up statistics he claimed proved his "unprecedented" success, based on slashing environmental protections and renegotiating trade relationships with China and the United States' two huge neighbours Canada and Mexico."The American dream is back, bigger better, stronger than ever before," he said.Robin Niblett, director of the Chatham House think tank, called Trump's performance "an almost plain vanilla presidential campaign speech, laying out an unassailable set of statistics that tell the Democrats 'good luck taking me on on this, because you won't stand a chance."(Except for the headline, this story has not been edited by NDTV staff and is published from a syndicated feed.) Read the full article

[the-record-columns]

Aug. 21, 2019: Columns

The candy cooler is wedged between Coca-Cola and Pepsi coolers at the offices of The Record and Thursday Printing.

 From NASCAR to Whitman Chocolates

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

A couple of years ago I received a call from the folks at NASCAR Race Hub about a piece they were producing on Junior Johnson.

It had to do with the 50th anniversary of Thomas Wolfe’s article in Esquire dubbing Johnson as “The Last American Hero.” Since Johnson and Wolfe were still alive and kicking at the time (Thomas Wolfe died in May 2018), it seemed like a good idea to me, too, and one with plenty of folks to interview.

Which brings me to me. They asked if they could interview me, to which I replied “Why?” When they said that someone had suggested me to them, I said “But, I am not a NASCAR fan.” They said that didn’t matter, and, to make a long story short, I told them to come on, and they did.

On the appointed day, the crew arrived and it was clear they had been to the rodeo before. They set about making my mess of an office suitable for an interview, and soon it began. I politely explained to them that, when they took the race away from our speedway here, I was through with them; that they had “…gotten above their raising” so to speak; “…forgot who brought them to the dance,” well, you get the idea.

 The interview lasted nearly an hour, but I want to share just two items with you today. When asked what I admired most about Junior Johnson I quickly told them it went right back to my comment about losing our race in Wilkes. Junior Johnson is still loyal to those who made him famous and has not forgotten where he came from. He is still humbled and thankful for it all. I told them how Junior would take a phone call from anyone, that The Record has asked him to make an appearance off and on through the years, and he never turned us down if he could possibly schedule it-even to coming to the retirement of a rural mail carrier whose only request for his special day was to shake hands with Junior Johnson.

The other part of the interview I want to share concerned the author of the Esquire piece, Thomas Wolfe. The NASCAR folks told me that Wolfe had referred to the people of Wilkes County as standoffish and unfriendly. I quickly took great exception with that, and recommended that they tell Wolfe to keep his happy ass in New York where he belonged. I went on to suggest to the TV crew in my office to pull their van off on the 421 By-Pass as they left town, and cut on their emergency flashers. I assured them that not three minutes will have gone by until someone stops to see if they need some help. I ended that part of the interview by telling them that if someone in Traphill answers the door at midnight with a shotgun in hand, “…that’s not standoffish-that’s just cautious.”

And now to Whitman’s Chocolate.

There will be more on the the machine pictured on this page later, but today I want to focus on getting it into the offices of The Record. There is still no substitute for dumb luck, but a chance encounter with a collector friend of mine led me to this beautiful late 40’s edition of the Whitman Chocolate company’s refrigerated answer to being unable to sell chocolate year-round in the South. It is an amazing piece, 100 percent intact, six feet long, 30 inches wide, five feet tall, top-heavy and as awkward as can be to move, and weighed what seemed to be a ton.

Having done the work to make a place for something this large in my somewhat crowded offices, I was determined to move it in the same day. I enlisted one of my helpers at the time, who I had personally seen pick up a washing machine by himself and carry it across a large warehouse floor without even taking a deep breath. However, when he hunkered down to pick up one end of this cooler, he stood right up and said, “I’ve got to call by buddy, Hoss.”

Well Hoss is named right and, along with the help of another total stranger who randomly saw we had a struggle going on, the beautiful, historic Whitman’s Chocolate cooler/display case, originally in the Horton’s Drug Store on Main Street, was installed in its place of honor here at The Record.

 Bear in mind that these two guys who made this move bearable were total strangers to me, one of which I didn’t even get his name. When the job was done, and, I must add that the inside the office part of the job was no piece of chocolate itself; neither of the two Good Samaritans would take a penny for helping and even turned down my offer of taking them to lunch.

Just glad to help, they both said.

I am convinced that these two Wilkes County guys would have been the very ones who would stop to give assistance to the NASCAR Race Hub crew in their white van on the 421 By-Pass.

Or even Thomas Wolfe.

Bibi, RIGHT for Israel. LEFT to disaster

By AMBASSADOR EARL COX and KATHLEEN COX

Special to The Record

In politics as in life, there is a right way and a wrong way to do things. Moses expressed it well just prior to leading the people of Israel into the Promised Land. To Moses it was clear. There is a way leading to blessing and a way that brings a curse.

Times have changed, but the Torah has not. A unique phase for Israel having an unprecedented second election within a year, means this is a momentous time for Israel to get it right just as in the old days. This is a time to forge together, to form the necessary coalition, and to forge ahead in congruence with the prime minister.

Yet, Israel is not a Torah-run government. This is reserved for only certain segments of Israeli society and the government must accommodate them as well as those who are not Torah observant, including middle-of-the-roaders. Additionally, those on the left where the gas gauge reads empty (meaning they have nothing beneficial to offer), these citizens are also represented by the government though they are more difficult to appease.  This is due, in part, to the left being less realistic about the real world and especially about Israel. Worse yet is a circulating report alleging Israeli police are being controlled by political leftists and in collusion with the media. According to a political analyst, they have a type of agenda to bring down Netanyahu and his government. If this is the case, then Netanyahu has formidable leftist opponents who have brought indictment and fraud charges against him that may be considered frivolous. How far do such hijinks go?

The current prime minister continues as a very favorable leader, standing on his long-proven record of solid leadership bringing Israel among the top tiers of the world in agriculture, technology, business, medicine and others. He is rational during emotional, national crisis such as the handling of Gaza and other potentially explosive situations yet people are quick to criticize him. The highest leaders of any government always have more intelligence information than the popular press and therefore are better positioned to call the shots. The prime minister is not weak nor fearful of Israel’s enemies. He consistently chooses the path which will cause the least amount of harm to the Israeli people while at the same time leading the world’s most moral army in defensive conflicts.

Given the unusual complexity of geopolitics, he is careful and has deftly made his way through the complex and tight web of international relations. He has positioned Israel in such a way as to be on speaking terms with those who, just a few years ago, would view this as unthinkable.

The most vociferous dissent against Netanyahu might be his handling of domestic issues. This is an issue not uncommon in many other countries. With a steady hand, Netanyahu has adroitly handled societal and cultural issues that pop-up unexpectantly during any administration. 

As with other nations, Israel’s domestic issues include citizenship, cultural and ethnic issues, and fiscal issues that realistically cannot satisfy everyone. These things always have a way of being chronic and worthy of news stories everywhere. A major difference between Israel and her neighbors is that Israel permits opinions to be freely expressed and not suppressed. 

When engaged in battle or conflict, the old adage that it is better to know the person you’ve got than to take a chance with the person you don’t know, is particularly pertinent to Israel.  This tiny nation, surrounded by hostile enemies on every side, cannot afford to lose even one war. Netanyahu’s has been steady and very statesman-like. His opposition possesses no similar record of experience. One wrong move to the left could lead to disaster. Leftist views tend to keep going left, too bizarre to be realistic. 

U.S. President Trump has not released his version of what is being called the most comprehensive Middle East Peace plan to date. Though there is obvious synergism between Netanyahu and Trump, Netanyahu has been quiet prior to hearing and reviewing the full version. This is a sign of both deliberation in judgment and wisdom as taught in Pirke Avot, commonly known as Ethics of the Fathers.

All Israeli voters should also be deliberate and consider that going right trumps moving to left in order to avoid disaster.

 A visit to the Rosemary House

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

Not long ago, we were filming on location in Pittsboro, at the Rosemary House Bed and Breakfast.

We were on the front porch capturing a scene of a couple in rocking chairs; they were enjoying the calming effect of rocking, a refreshing beverage, conversation, and the gentle awareness of life passing by. Everything was going well, and as soon as we finished, I heard one of the people in the rocking chair say, “A big bird just landed behind Carl.”

Being mindful of the idea that if a big wild bird had indeed landed behind me, I should move slowly.  So, I did, and while turning, I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket and turned on the camera so that as I turned, the camera would see what I was seeing. As I turned, I saw a healthy full-grown hawk within six to eight feet away. He had landed with a squirrel, and the power of the talons of the bird was evident as the squirrel had lost whatever battle the two may have had.

We witnessed a hawk having dinner rather than the keen hunting skill of this raptor. None the less it was a captivating moment in time. I was able to capture about six minutes on my phone, and we were also able to move one of the professional cameras in place to capture the moment. We were amazed at the hawk’s ability to keep an eye on everything going on and not fly away. That is until Wilma the cat came sneaking around the corner. When Wilma was within striking distance; the hawk took to flight with his remaining dinner.  

The hawk would continue his meal elsewhere, Wilma went from stalking mode to cute kitty mode, and we humans would talk about the wonders of nature. We would go on to have a good evening of production along with the following day. It’s always amazing at how many hours we work for a four- to six-minute segment on TV.

Producing a destination segment always involves at least two trips, and sometimes more. It all depends on the angle of the story. The first trip is always about getting to know the property and the owners or managers.

Travel adventures take many forms, and when we discover a new place, we are not entirely sure what we are going to experience. It’s when we wake up that first morning after what was hopefully a restful night that we begin to form our opinions. That would be, of course, if the rooms were adequately cleaned and comfortable when we first check-in.

When you travel often, there are times you need a place to shower and get some rest before you get back on the road. Then there are times that our lodging needs to be a place to relax and rejuvenate.

Maybe it’s your home base for exploring an area or a destination family reunion. In those cases, the importance and expectation of lodging are elevated to a much higher level. It may not be that you need a five-star location. However, you may need a space that offers a lot of flexibility.

The Rosemary House is exceptional for a variety of reasons. The home has historical significance, the rooms are clean and comfortable, and breakfast is fresh and tasty. Breakfast is made with you in mind.

If you have specific dietary needs, they do their best to meet your expectations. That’s reason enough to make me want to stay again. But they have something extra special. They are also home to Kindred Art Gallery. Folk Art from several noted artists are on display throughout the house, so if you enjoy folk art you are in for a big treat.

I love the idea of being able to live with art for a few days. If you like what you see you can buy a piece and take it home with you.  The owners, Jamie and Heather Buster, do have a few personal pieces on display; however, everything else is for sale as part of The Kindred Gallery collection.

You may or may not see the hawk when you visit. You can enjoy the walkable streets of Historic Downtown Pittsboro. You can enjoy the delightful Rosemary House B & B and Kindred Art Gallery and now and then I’ll be around, and we can have a cup of handcrafted Poppysol tea.

Wilma, I don’t think he’s going to let you have that squirrel.

Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 10th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My 12. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com

[gaudeixcc]

Peloton New – Eiger

The sleepy town of Grindelwald lies at the foot of the Eiger. A Swiss peak with a frankly terrifying North face which is concave and year-round bathed in shadow. As a climbing challenge it’s ferocious.  

Climbing the Eiger the normal route, whilst not for the likes of you and I, is it seems relatively straightforward.

Climbing the North face however is a completely different barrel of monkeys.

So many climbers have died trying that the Germans have a  nickname for it. ‘Murderous wall’. 

Before being successfully climbed in 1938 by Anderl Heckmair, who along with 3 chums made it to the top with many a tale of derring do, many climbers lost their lives trying. 

In 1935 for example, 2 German climbers had to bivouac 5 times over a period of a few days whilst attempting the summit. Fog came down and watched from Grindelwald below the people saw them disappear. 2 days later they were found frozen to death at 3,300 meters in a place now called ‘death bivouac’.

Like many a great Strava segment, the Heckmair route has iconic ‘segments’ named after various heroics in the history pre-summit.

The White spider, the Traverse of the Gods, flat iron and difficult crack (we’ve all been there). 

Probably the most infamous drama to play out on the mountain was in 1936 when 2 Bavarian climbers, Andreas Hinterstoisser and Toni Kurtz and a couple of Asutrians had a crack at the North face.

Stuck on the wall and cut off by bad weather, they made fatal mistakes. They traversed across an area of flat purchase-less mountain face  but instead of leaving the rope behind so they could get back, they took it with them. Now stuck, 3 of the group where swept off by an avalanche with Kurtz left hanging in mid-air on a rope. 3 guides went up the hill to try and rescue him. They used the railway inside the mountain which has a couple of places where you can come out directly on to the North face. They got within shouting distance of Kurtz who relayed the fate of the others.

The guides managed to get a rope to him so he could traverse down, but hands ravaged by frost bite, he spent hours trying to get the rope into his carabiner. In the end he just gave up and died exhausted on the side of the mountain.

Nobody wants that, least of all me….. still… twas nearly my fate this weekend.

A small subset of The Gaudeix Peleton this year visited Kitzbühel in Austria to mark my 50th year on the planet. Of the 5 riders, 2 are good skiers, 2 are good snow-boarders and 1 is 50 and never worn a ski boot outside of Hemel Hempstead. This was going to be interesting.

I had taken this task seriously. I’d had 11 hours-worth of lessons and the boys had bought me two 3 hour sessions of one-on-one tuition from an 8-year old Danish boy called ‘Viktor’. 

He and I had a lot in common. 

1. We are both male

2. We were both spending 6 hours together.

The rapport flowed and we found ourselves chatting away perhaps once or twice. It wasn’t frosty… we just shared little common ground. He asked me what I did. I told him I worked in Insurance…. and that was the end of that little line of enquiry. I then dropped one of my sticks off the ski lift into what looked like a ravine. ‘Couldn’t nip and get that for me could you Viktor?’

Still, in fairness to Viktor, he did treat me gently and didn’t at any point leave me for dead on a steep mountain. Not at any point. Thanks Viktor.

My confidence grew gently. I crashed a couple of times…. Once spectacularly on a very flat and unassuming piece of ground. I felt like I was going maybe 10-15 mph…. just standing up… not doing anything. Exerting no effort. It was like my brain had a sudden moment of ‘hang the fuckety on, what’s going on here. You’re standing still but still moving. Stop this bus immediately’. At this point I did a massive cartwheel on the flat ground and ended up in a heap with a hurty rib and a concerned looking Viktor whose voice said ‘are you ok?’ but whose eyes said ‘how the fuck did you just crash here… it’s flat you complete fucking moron’.

After that ‘lil event though, things kinda progressed well. I did more skiing. Viktor took me on some blue runs. I didn’t die in any meaningful way. All was well.

The big day of the week though was Saturday. Hip flasks packed. Time called fairly early. Everyone drinking hot chocolate with beers and added hip flaskery. We hit the town early. We hit the town hard. Some harder than others.

It’s not fair on those involved to go into too many raw details, so I’m going to deploy the famous ‘summary bullets’ to the evenings events and let others add the names/fill in the blanks. Here goes;

• Snowboarder X…. too drunk to stand un-aided, staggers down road… then runs at a complete stranger shouting… and hugs him. Literally the funniest video I’ve ever seen…. And I have played it to no-one today at work. Noone at all…

• Skier Y…… upstanding pillar of the community. Responsible job in the transport industry…. Never kicked a football in his life. Taped to the bar with electrical tape and broke a hotel wardrobe door.

• Snowboarder Z….Generous purchaser of birthday Champaign… roommate to gentle old man…. Literally left me for dead on a mountain to be eaten by wolves…. Revoluted me for the cost of the wolves whilst I was being eaten.

• Skier Z…. self-employed….. can start his car with an App…. Tired legs…. Also taped to a bar with electrical tape. Broke no doors.

Clearly names have been changed to protect the innocent. 

I can’t however leave this edition of Peloton news without re-living the disaster that was day 3.

I hadn’t seen Viktor that morning. 

I had felt that I held kept my head above the snow. 

Off we all went to the other side of the mountain. 

The fist little sign of trouble was when Moley suggested that we take a quieter, less well travelled route. The trouble with skiing that I have found, is that once you are committed to a route by going down some part of it…. You are committed… there is literally no going back. This particular route was not long…. But very narrow and icy. I instantly panicked and then fell over.

At this point an 80-year old German woman enters the scene. She stands on her skis by the side of my broken body and starts asking if I’m ok…. Moley, ever the gentleman, assures her that there is nothing to see here and that he is ‘taking care of it’.

She literally refuses to move. 

‘He shouldn’t be on this slope’ says Frauline. 

I’m preoccupied looking for my other ski and I think I’ve also lost a stick.

At this point I’m sitting down and looking over the edge of the slope I’m sitting on.

‘He shouldn’t be on this slope’ continues the old bint.

‘He’s fine’ continues Moley. ‘I’ve got him… we’ll be out of your way soon’.

I continue to sit.

Eventually I get cracking again and manage to slide my arse off that particular hill and move on to the next drama. 

I didn’t like that slope. Too narrow and very icy.

My arse hurts.

My rib hurts.

My pride hurts.

Eventually, snowboarder X & Y arrive at the top of a blue (black?) run and fuck the hell off without so much as a backward glance. 

They leave the Hemel Hempstead flyer with Moley and Macca to pursue their own agenda. I’m left wondering what they talk about…. When they do their thing together. I have no idea because I’ve been skiing for 11 hours in total. I don’t know what goes on chat-wise at the front of the Ski-pack. I just know what happens at the back. 

Anyhoo, within minutes, I find myself on the North Face of the Eigar looking down. Fuck me this is a looooong slope. I mean really, really long. And it’s about 40 degrees in angle.

I go down and within seconds I’m travelling at a pace I really don’t like at all. Not one Iota. So I do what I do best. I fall off dramatically and take a German lady with me for good measure.

She said ‘are you ok?’….. her eyes said ‘for the love of fuckery what on earth are you doing here you complete amateur’

I was now sitting in the middle of a mountain on my arse. One ski moving downhill being chased by Macca with Moley up the slope looking for my stick.

I was frightened, confused and angry.

How the fuck was I going to get off this slope. I literally had no idea. I’m on the side of a mountain. I can’t go down 2k’s on my arse for fucksake..!

Both Moley and Macca are trying to gently talk me down. I’m having none of it.

‘What the fuck am I doing here’, I whine.

For those of you present several years ago on Barhatch, when an unnamed cyclist so pissed on my fire that I popped a little wheelie in anger and then spoke to no-one for 30 mins…. you’d recognise this particular version of me. 

I’m getting irrational and angry at how average I am at pretty much every sport I try. Cycling. Average in the pack. Squash… average. Boxing… average…. Football….. yep, pretty shit at that. 

I feel fear. 

Macca is trying to talk to me ‘put the weight on your downhill ski Hoppo and try and press your arse into the mountain. It’ll give you better purchase on the edge and will be a lot easier for you to sustain… come on Hoppo…then you can rest… and we can go down gently’.

All I hear is ‘blah blah blah blah.. Hoppo….blah blah blah… Hoppo….blah blah blah…. Die’

Moley gently slides into view.

‘No worries Hoppo… just traverse…. Just traverse over there Hoppo… you can do it’.

All I hear is ‘Traverse… blah blah blah…. Traverse…. Blah blah blah’.

I am genuinely fearful. I’m sweating and my legs are burning. The slope is 45 degrees and covered in ice.

Literally hundreds of people and gently sweeping down it without a care in the world. I am the only person on the slope going fucking sideways….. slowly. From one side…. to the other…. And then down a few inches.

This takes what feels like hours.

I reach the bottom a sweating gibbering mess.

I look back up the slope. Fuck me it’s massive. For far too long I felt like Toni Kurtz… desperately trying to get down… but too cold… too frightened… so close… I thought I was going to be stuck on the mountain for ever.

In my wild subconscious I thought I heard two snowboarders overhead chuckling as they were lifted to safety whilst watching the madness below. Couldn’t have been our two.

I was nervous on day 1 as had absolutely no idea what to expect.

I came back alive and un-injured.

Being 50 isn’t about being brilliant at everything you do. It’s about just saying yes to doing brilliant things. 

One day I will ski the murderous wall and overcome the demons.

March 2020? Not sure I’ll be quite ready then… but one day. 

See you there next year. 

In the meantime I shall be retreating to the safety of my bicycle.

Slide away mother fuckers, slide away.

Hoppo