Mysteries from the sea (2)

Wrapped in seaweed, covered in sea growth, the object

was hardly recognizable when I kicked it on the beach.

After a clean up, here's what it became.

Perhaps not so mysterious. No doubt a spear gun, but it's origins are a mystery. 
Very primitive. There's a reel and a crude little trigger, a channel for the spear and a hole where a spring band, perhaps a slice of inner tube, was used as a propellant. 

Must have been used from a boat, as underwater the spear would float away;  probably a long 

spear - the gun acting as a launcher.

The carvings are the intriguing bit.  
Male figures (holding two cocktails?) and a row of heads along the barrel, much like the notches in a cowboy's six-shooter?  

Makes one wonder.

I'm sure the owner would recognize his carvings, so don't bother to claim the gun unless you wear a grass skirt.

Mysteries from the sea (1)

Some strange things wash up from the sea.  

'Ah, a giant paddle', I said to meself as I spotted this huge hunk of wood lying at the tide mark.

Then I tried to pick it up - had to use two hands.

Heavy?  Ten strokes and a strong man would be knackered.

Who could use such a giant paddle? 

And very old, carved out of a single piece of a

dense, tropical timber not found on these islands. 

For comparison the smaller one is from Bali - 

a regular paddle-size paddle used to propel one 

of their 22ft outriggers.

If not a paddle, then perhaps it's a 

steering oar ? 

The closest I can find are those used 

on the canoes of the Gilbert Islands. 

But such an oar would have wear 

marks made by a gudgeon, throle pins, or a whajamacallit around the shaft.

This has a straight unblemished shaft. 

It's never seen any wear.

So the mystery remains, and somewhere out there roams a very, very big man looking for his paddle.

Sacre´ Sucre´ !

January - and the sugarcane fields lie quiet and deserted.

Usually, at this time of the year, the farmers, 

wrapped up like English football supporters,

work hard to gather in the cane.  

Cutting time is almost a sacred ritual 

(much like the cane drinking time) 

with the sound of chopping and chatting filling the air.   

   But this year, silence from our surrounding  fields. 

No happy harvesting. No blankets laden with nibblies 

and a two liter bottle of last year's fermentation

 - used to both stimulate their sacred mission and to enrich the chatter.

   Seems like, with the repetitious barrage of typhoons 

throughout the summer, the sugar stalks decided to keep a low profile. 

By this time healthy stalks are usually towering to ten feet, 

but this year they've hardly reached shoulder height.

   Happily there are benefactors - the pheasants - 

who won't have their hides rudely wrecked this year 

and can remain safely hidden from any passing pheasant plucker.

Many people view a rock as a mere lump of nature's debris.

But, as shown here, it can be used as a place of peace and 

meditation, and more.

DAWN YAWN

The first sun of 2013 reluctantly made its appearance an hour after dawn.

The  tree stump on the right, broken in one of the summer's typhoons,

used to be a popular perch for sea hawks.