Jayski's® NASCAR Silly Season Site - #99 Team News Archive
These left me weak and with little ambition for anything. .. Alas, I was in a poor frame of mind to meet Dr. O'Donnell. ideas of house arrangement and fitments were so different from their own. Our front hall, with a landing halfway up the stairs and a door under this, was copied from such an illustration. "Diabetes is obviously something that hits very close to home for me, so I really .. Edwards discusses Roush's changes: #Carl Edwards met with media at "Roush Fenway Racing is a great fit for Best Buy Racing. that would make Edwards the second dirtiest competitor in NASCAR history, according to this list. Meet Me Halfway Lyrics: Ooh, I can't go any further than this / Ooh, I want you so badly, it's my biggest wish / Cool, I spend my time just thinking / Thinking.
The song also reached 1 in the German Single Charts making it their 3rd chart topper since almost 5 years last two were " Where Is the Love? Music video[ edit ] Fergie is shown in a luxuriant forest The music video was confirmed by will. The video features the members in different parts of the Solar System. Fergie lies in the middle of a lush, green jungle, apl.
Apl takes out a map and will. After a while, will. All the members use a stargate and turn into shooting starsand land on the planet presumably Earth because its a mix of all the different places were the singers are and is a halfway of all the locations in the videowith the road in the middle of the desert.
This is the first video of the album that does not end with the phrase "The E. In Junemetalcore band Haste the Day released a cover of the song on the special edition of their final studio album, Attack of the Wolf King. Siseko recovered just in time for the race but his injury meant they had already missed most of the qualifying races and their poor seeding jeopardised their chances of winning a gold medal.
On Day 1 of the big race, the pair lost about five minutes to the field when Siseko broke a paddle and they fell way back to 57th position. But with sheer grit and determination the two made a miraculous comeback to finish in 7th place and win the gold medal they had both worked so hard towards.
Reflecting on their success and the subsequent making of Beyond the River, a film based on their uniquely South African story, Siseko says: Sarah Kingdom took in some of its many attractions www.
It was slightly disconcerting arriving after dark. Instead, aside from the humidity, I could very well have arrived in Europe which, technically, I had. I somehow made my way through immigration, customs, bag collection and finding my taxi, all without speaking a word of English. Having established he was sober, we set off, for what was to me, destination unknown.
As I had come to the island specifically for the outdoor side of life, the many other facets would have to wait for another visit. This is what I had come to write about. Over athletes 11 pro athletes, including 6 from South Africa from all over the world were taking part in this epic race. I got to sample the course and meet up with the athletes. Those who may think the relatively tame sounding distances of a 1.
Following the swim, things would really heat up with the mountain bike course combining single track, dirt road and a highly technical section that finished down the famous Ravine Tabac. The race would then culminate in a run that would be a challenging mix of boulder hopping, a waist-deep river crossing, a dash through the forest and a steep climb up the volcanic hills before ending with a run along the beach to the finish line.
Race day dawned with a 6am start down at the beach. I was introduced to a jovial Reunionais guy who had been roped in to chauffeur me around the various vantage points of the race on the back of his scooter. Hair pin bends, combined with high speed driving was certainly an exhilarating way to see the island! Starting down at the beach we saw the race begin with the swim, before dashing off to three different points along the cycle leg, the athletes looking progressively bruised, battered and in many cases blood-smeared as the race went on.
Finally we watched a section of the run where it intersected with the steepest downhill portion of the cycle race, before scooting off back down to the beach in time to witness the exhausted athletes staggering across the finish line, with Ruben Ruzafa from Spain and Carina Wasle of Austria the winners of the male and female www. Approaching the volcano across the Plaine des Sables Right: Having watched all the activity the day before, I woke the next morning feeling motivated to get out and get active myself.
A trip to a volcano was on the agenda. Piton de la Fournaise, at years old, is one of the most active and productive volcanoes in the world.
Despite its sulphurous and active reputation, Piton de la Fournaise is pretty accessible to all. Clearly, though, the fitter and more surefooted you are, the more of an up-close and personal experience you are going to get. If you have the time, you can climb it from head to toe, starting from the waves lapping at its base in the Indian Ocean, and ultimately reaching the summit, which is often shrouded in the clouds.
It was the Easter weekend and there were tourists of all ages, shapes, sizes and nationalities who had come to marvel at www. We left most of these tourists behind at the viewing point.
Only the more intrepid ventured down the five hundred or so steps of the outer crater Enclos Foucque to the caldera floor. A seemingly endless lava plateau surrounded the central crater Dolomieuwhich loomed m above the caldera floor some distance away. As far as the eye could see were kilometers of black and oxidized lava, forming amazing shapes and giving the landscape an extraterrestrial, frozen-in-time look. To the left was the less strenuous, but longer and far more popular route to the top.
The path had mostly been obliterated by eruptions the previous year, so we were charting a new route. Scrambling over the razor sharp and brittle lava, we made it to the top in pretty fast time and had the luxury of the place to ourselves. Sheer cliffs fell away to the still smoldering crater below and steam rose through vents in the earth, rising up to meet the clouds that tumbled down over the crater rim from above.
We sat for at least an hour, silently marveling at the dramatic, barren landscape and thinking of the raw power of the volcano that had created this entire island. Finally we hiked back through the massive, barren landscape, over frozen waves of solidified lava and crushed volcanic rocks. The author sitting on the rim of the volcano's inner crater volcano that had produced the landscape of melted rocks and glass that surrounded us in every direction.
Now deeply eroded and inactive for the last 20 years, it is surrounded by three massive crater valleys, or cirques, Mafate, Cilaos and Salazie. InUNESCO designated these cirques as part of a World Heritage site and they offer amazing hiking opportunities and between them have more than 1 kilometers of hiking trails. Cirque de Mafate, our hiking destination, was formed when the magna chamber of Piton de Neiges collapsed. The first settlers arrived in the 18th Century and were escaped slaves who hid in this inaccessible location.
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Later came impoverished French farmers whose plantations had failed following the abolition of slavery. For generations, these settlers and their descendants were all but 48 The Intrepid Explorer issue 19 cut off from the outside world. There is no electricity or water grid in the entire valley. Fortunately my guide, Nico, was with me again and he not only knew the way, but conveniently carried a backpack of snacks! We descended through the gathering clouds and headed off into the wilderness.
The amphitheatreshaped valley is accessible from half a dozen trail heads, which lead to the network of narrow hiking trails that connect the hamlets. We planned a steep, sharp decent to Roche Plate, which was somewhere far below us, tucked out of sight. The sun slipped in and out from behind the clouds, and the temperature alternated from pleasantly cool to hot and humid.
We were overtaken by a group of young, highly enthusiastic, rucksack laden hikers who quite literally ran down the mountainside. We were only intending a day hike and had no intention of emulating their frightening, breakneck speed, so we moved over to let them race past. On our descent we rounded a bend and quite literally bumped into a couple of the South African XTERRA athletes; they had clearly recovered sufficiently from the race to tackle a hike in Mafate.
As we descended further we met red faced, breathless hikers making their ascent back up the rugged, steep valley walls. Stopping at a vantage point just above the village we ate the traditional sweet potato cakes and pain au chocolat Nico had carried down.
The view was mesmerising and we spent an hour contemplating the vast expanse of green volcanic crater in front of us. Finally dragging ourselves away, we made the steep ascent back the way we had come, fortunately arriving at the top a lot less red faced than the trekkers we had seen in the morning!
The cirque was surrounded by clouds and rain was beginning to fall when we got back to the car. In the hot weather it would not be safe to eat meat that had been kept overnight, so we tried to finish up such food at the first meal after the killing.
There were some newly arrived missionaries at Tawosze that year. They objected to our having chickens killed on Sunday. The wife came to me and talked long and seriously about how wrong it was to have such work done on the Sabbath; chickens should be killed Saturday if they were for Sunday dinner.
I was distressed, but not as much as she hoped. I knew plenty of missionaries had their servants kill fowl on Sunday, so I told her I could not believe my attitude had serious moral implications. It was not a moral issue of the observance of Sunday; it was a necessity for the preparation of wholesome food. An old missionary lady who heard of our conversation took me aside later and told me to pay no attention to such talk. In the early part of the summer we had a letter from our Chengtu gateman telling us that our house had been entered.
The second-floor bathroom window had been broken and entrance effected thereby. The large chest of drawers which stood there had been forced open, in spite of its foreign locks, and evidently things were missing. We wrote to some of the Methodist friends who were in Chengtu during the summer.
They visited our compound and discovered that our table linen was the chief loss. We blamed the cook who had been put in jail in May after the dollar robbery. He alone knew where I kept this linen locked up, and certainly he would know that we had left the city.
A small alley along the rear north wall of our compound made it possible for a night prowler to scale the wall, about ten feet high, and drop into our tiny backyard far from the gateman, who lived beside our front gate at the extreme south of the compound.
All duringChengtu foreigners were more or less taken up with plans for entertaining the West China Missionary Conference, scheduled to convene in Chengtu in January Each Chengtu family would have to keep as many guests in their house as could be managed.
In view of this, we had ordered two long Irish tablecloths. These had arrived just before we left for Omei; still unused, they had been locked away for the summer. I could never think of those cloths, and the other wedding linens that were lost, without keen regret.
On our Golden Summit trip that year we stayed an extra day at Nine Old Caves to take in more of the sights of the huge cliff under which the temple shelters. Early on the morning after our arrival, the face of this cliff was alive with monkeys, clambering about in the lush vegetation and chattering away at a great rate. This was a most arresting sight, and it was the only time we ever saw monkeys in their wild habitat in West China.
We took our teacher, Mr. Chu, for the stay on the mountain top. He enjoyed it, and Bob kept up his lessons. I had not the strength for study that summer and was forced to lie about, trying to win back my former vigor.
I used to play chess with Mr. Chu, and we three took several rambles about the several summit temples. On any long trip I was carried in my chair. We had marvelous views of the incomparable snow mountains to the west. They gave us a pleasant suite of rooms. There was a good-sized guest room where Bob could study and where we had our meals, the Boy preparing them in our presence on a small charcoal brazier. Bedrooms opened off either side from this room; Mr. Chu had one, and we the opposite.
It was so cool mornings and evenings that we were all glad of the brazier's heat. We spent more than a week at the summit; it was an interesting experience because through our teacher we learned more about the mountain and its temples than we had on our other visit. On our return to Tawosze we had word from Chengtu that one of the teachers from the government university had been forced to move with his family into our empty house. There had been a big flood in Chengtu, and they had literally been driven out by the high water.
This was truly a hard-luck family. The husband had given up a good teaching job in California for what seemed a very attractive offer: Prudently, he decided to proceed alone; his wife and four young children were to await his report before starting out to join him.
Arrived in Chengtu, he found that not all was as promised. The housing was a couple of rooms on the campus, where no women were allowed; servants had to be trained; horses could be hired, for a price; and there was no vestige of a railway in Szechwan.
But his first mail from America brought word that his family had grown impatient and were already on their way. This was in the spring when we were making over our own Chinese house. Bob felt sorry for the family and would have agreed. Though it seemed hardhearted, I was firmly against it. The place was simply too small to add a family of six; we needed some peace and quiet for study, and our home was important in the work we hoped to do.
Eventually, the university found a small Chinese house for the teacher and his family. It was close to the university, but on low ground. When the flood came, they had to escape. The husband carried his wife on his back; the oldest son carried the little girl.
Our house was the only place to go. We were thankful to be able to provide a refuge. Only our student lamp did not work. I found that their servants had used native oil. After a grand boiling and cleaning and a new wick, it resumed normal functioning.
We became friendly that summer with the old head priest of Tawosze and found him a pleasant, kindly old man, albeit with a remarkable shrewdness and ability to read character. Rumor had it that he had been a man of the world whose desire for a son had never been realized although he took several wives. Finally he decided that he must have offended Heaven, and so sought a priestly life.
He had risen to be the head of Tawosze and had made it prosperous. One of his money-making ideas was the renting of rooms and apartments to foreigners. Once when we were looking at rooms which we thought we might take, we both exclaimed over their age-old dirt and the truly amazing array of spider webs hanging from the rafters.
The old priest usually left such affairs to a subordinate, but that day he was with us. He turned to the windows, whose lattices he had caused to be propped open to reveal a mountain scene of great beauty, and remarked: Here you have what you seek. These other things do not matter. It looked as though there had never been a housecleaning since Creation. This is used to harden other waxes and commercial glazes and is quite an important export from Szechwan.
It is the product of an insect native to an area southwest of Mount Omei. The insects lay their eggs on the young branches of a certain tree. At the right time the branches are broken off and boiled; the wax rises and is taken off in clean cake form.
The final processing of the wax was at the end of the summer. A large balancing scale was hung outside the old priest's upper temple room so he could see the weighing of all the temple wax. One day I took hold of the large hook and hung my weight on it. I was just seventy catties,[ 4 ] and this was after my summer of recuperation when people were all telling me that I looked well again. I wonder how I looked when I came to the mountain.
A short time before we left Tawosze we had been over to join the first meal in the new cottage of the Beamans at Hsinkaisze. This is now quite a resort with a community of foreign bungalows. The Beaman cottage was the first built there; but only shortly after they moved in, Mr.
Beaman was taken ill. They left the mountain, packed up their Kiating home, and had to leave West China. We bought a few pieces of furniture from them, the chief being a handsome desk which had been built to the specifications of a former member of their mission. From the Beamans we also acquired two fine cows. We also took on Lao Yang, their cow coolie who had been well trained by Mr. He proved a quaint old fellow and was a fixture in our household for many years.
His wife, whose face was shriveled like a dried nut, also helped with the cows. They spoke a thick, blurred Kiating dialect which often puzzled our ears. Lao Yang liked a nip of hot wine in cold weather for a pain in one leg. A year or two after the old man came to us, our cook wanted a wife; this gay and gallant old cow man took the part of go-between in the transaction.
Our Boy, devoted to plants, was the one who suggested the idea and he zealously did the collecting. Among the gains for our Chengtu garden were regal lilies, which grew marvelously for us, huge hydrangeas, and yellow-flowered terrestrial orchids.
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The Boy had gone with us as cook to Golden Summit and did so well that we now discharged the dirty cook at Kiating, giving him travel money. The hold of our boat was loaded with loose dried beans which looked to be a clean and non-odorous cargo. We put all our things on the floor level, and the boat was large enough to give plenty of room and, best of all, good head space.
Our teacher was with us on the boat and we studied as we traveled. We could even sit at our new desk to study and write. The trip to Chengtu was expected to take about a week. The floods that summer had caused damage along the river and we saw signs on every hand.
Once, walking on the bank, we noticed tangled vines above our heads in tree branches. These were peanut vines that had been washed out of the fields and lodged in the trees. Even at Chengtu the river had covered the big stone bridge outside the South Gate.
Close to this place, a big section of the city wall had been undermined and took many months to repair. But, despite the summer flood, the river was now rather low for that time of the year—and our boat was large. Life was very pleasant for the first two or three days, and we congratulated ourselves on the size and comfort of our craft. At first we found only a few tiny white worms.
In a few hours they had multiplied and were into everything: The little worms were everywhere. Complaints to the captain were useless; worms meant nothing to him. We then tried to hurry the boat, but its draft was considerable and the river seemed to be falling. We could only proceed by the main channel and frequently had to wait for other boats to negotiate narrow spots. After a couple of days of worms, we began to have a pest of little white moths.
These tiny blundering creatures flew everywhere, and our tempers were decidedly on edge. I began to feel that we would never reach Chengtu, and the eternal singsong of Bob repeating Chinese phrases after his teacher's intoned speech made me weary beyond words. To be honest, 1 yeas probably as much of a trial to live with as the worms and moths!
Bob suggested that from a village about a hundred li from Chengtu,[ 1 ] I could reach the city in a day in my chair, the Boy escorting me. But when we reached the village that evening, it was impossible to find chair men.
Next morning it was raining, which ruled out the possibility of making the trip in one day even if bearers could be found. So I settled down to sticking it out on the bean boat.
We had still more trouble, having to lighten cargo at one place where the channel was shallow and the current swift.
We did not reach Chengtu until the next Tuesday. Then there was a joyous farewell to that nice, clean boat full of its worms and moths with whom we had spent eleven unforgettable days. We were delighted to reach our Chinese home again.
A quick check showed that the robbers had taken practically all my table linen as well as some other things. Otherwise all was in good order. A few days of scrubbing, washing windows, hanging clean curtains, and changing shelf and drawer papers made us as clean and fresh as could be.
I liked the new desk very much and had it set up in our living room, where it became my special possession and delight. Bob had a large Chinese desk of red bean wood in his study, so he did not need it. My new desk was of what was called "buried nanmu. On each side above the table top were six small drawers.