People go on cruises for several reasons. Some like to be on a ship in order to go on shore again all day and do things, see things, take pictures of things. Others, me for example, take the same cruise to relax in the comfort of their stateroom and quietly observe the world as it floats by. The black and white orca that shot out of the water right in front of our balcony would be an example. Or the compressed blue glacier ice blocks floating all around and the water falls rushing down the steep rock faces of the inner passage. My idea of the perfect cruise ship is an elegant dining room surrounded by a wood paneled library with leather chairs, table lamps, and lots of books. And it should be located not too far from the cappuccino bar.
I do not really care where the ship is going or how the weather is outside. On a recent foray into Alaskan waters we ran into a week of rain and cold winds. Some of my more active ship companions complained about our bad luck, although none of them were discouraged from traipsing through the woods, looking for salmon, bears, and bald eagles. The floating ice blocks crowded with resting seabirds were not enough for them. They wanted to see the glacier that “calved” those blocks and were sad when we could not go near enough to witness the procedure.
For me, on the other hand, this was a perfect arrangement. Thanks to the lure of the bears the dining room was not crowded and I had the library to myself. I had nothing to crab about.
Talking about crabs, we observed a fishing boat coming into the harbor at Prince Rupert in British Columbia. It was loaded with crabs. They were being hoisted onto the pier in large buckets. A work crew on shore inspected them. Those that passed muster were packed in ice. Those that failed the inspection – not very many – were unceremoniously tossed back into the water. That made me think this over: the bad ones live; the fit ones get eaten. Yes, that is how it goes with the crabs. “Survival of the what?” I heard the crabs say, “Where were you, Herbert Spencer, when we needed you?” If I were a crab I would be crabby, too.
©2017 by Herbert H Hoffman
Picture credit: morguefile.com