#Rally Driving Experience in South West

[neiljohnsblog]

The Art of Rally Driving: What to Expect from Your First Experience Behind the Wheel

When it comes to motorsports, few experiences are as exhilarating as rally driving. The rush of speed, the precision of control, and the adrenaline-pumping terrain make it one of the most thrilling forms of racing. If you’ve ever dreamt of getting behind the wheel and tackling the most challenging roads, a Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales might be the perfect opportunity for you. 

This blog will walk you through what to expect from your first rally driving experience, covering the essentials from the initial briefing to the last lap. Whether you're an enthusiast or a complete beginner, by the end of the session, you'll have a taste of the raw power and skill it takes to become a rally driver.

What is Rally Driving?

Rally driving differs from typical circuit racing in many ways. Instead of racing on smooth, uniform tracks, rally drivers tackle various surfaces like gravel, dirt, and mud. These surfaces demand a completely different set of driving skills. The environment often features twisting roads, sharp corners, and unpredictable conditions, requiring drivers to master both speed and precision. It’s not just about going fast—it’s about maintaining control in environments where control is constantly tested.

The Rally Driving Experience South West offers participants the chance to drive specially designed vehicles over challenging terrain, replicating the intensity of professional rally courses.

The Briefing: Understanding the Fundamentals

Your rally driving experience will begin with an in-depth safety briefing and introduction to the sport. This session is crucial for understanding the basics of rally car handling, safety measures, and the specific techniques used in off-road racing. Professional instructors with years of experience will explain how to manage the car's unique dynamics, including:

- Weight distribution – Rally cars are designed to shift weight differently than regular vehicles. You’ll learn how to balance the car as it slides around corners.

- Braking techniques – Proper braking in a rally car is a skill that sets it apart from traditional driving. Instructors will show you how to brake without losing control, especially on tricky surfaces.

- Cornering – One of the highlights of rally driving is navigating through sharp, unpredictable corners at high speed. You’ll be taught how to enter, steer, and exit corners while maintaining optimum control.

This initial briefing is designed to equip you with the confidence and knowledge needed to get behind the wheel safely.

Getting Acquainted with the Rally Car

Once you’ve got the theory down, it’s time to meet the rally car itself. Rally cars are typically built for endurance, speed, and handling rough terrain. Unlike standard road cars, these vehicles have advanced suspension systems, lightweight construction, and special tyres designed to grip even the most challenging surfaces.

During the Rally Driving Experience South West, you’ll get to familiarize yourself with the car’s layout, from the pedals to the steering wheel, and understand how it reacts to various inputs. Professional instructors will guide you through a detailed inspection of the car’s components, ensuring you feel comfortable and prepared for the experience ahead.

Practice Laps: Building Your Confidence

Before you tackle the more demanding parts of the track, your session will likely start with a few practice laps on a designated course. This portion of the day is designed to allow you to apply the techniques learned during the briefing in a controlled environment.

Here’s what you can expect:

- Low-speed manoeuvres: To help you get a feel for how the rally car responds, you’ll first practice navigating tight turns, accelerating on straight sections, and performing controlled slides. 

- Braking exercises: Mastering rally driving requires learning how to brake in a way that maximizes control without sacrificing speed. Instructors will guide you through various braking drills to ensure you’re ready for high-speed sections of the course.

- Understanding surface changes: The South West is known for its diverse terrains, and your experience may include multiple surface changes such as gravel, dirt, and loose rock. Practising on these surfaces will help you understand how the car handles differently depending on the terrain.

These practice laps are an essential part of your rally driving experience, allowing you to gain confidence in your abilities and the vehicle before moving on to more advanced sections of the course.

The Real Deal: Tackling the Rally Course

Once you’ve gained confidence, it's time to tackle the full rally course. This is where the fun truly begins. Under the guidance of your instructor, you’ll push your rally car to its limits, navigating the tight turns, hairpin corners, and fast straights that make rally driving such a thrilling sport.

As you weave through the course, you’ll apply the braking and cornering techniques you’ve learned, all while keeping your focus on maintaining control at high speeds. Each lap will present new challenges, and you’ll find yourself learning how to react to the terrain beneath your wheels and the conditions around you.

The rush of speed, the dirt flying from the tyres, and the sheer exhilaration of mastering each corner will make your Rally Driving Experience South West an unforgettable adventure. Whether you're accelerating down a straight or drifting around a bend, the feeling of controlling a powerful machine on unpredictable terrain is second to none.

Instructor Feedback: Fine-Tuning Your Skills

Throughout the day, instructors will offer real-time feedback to help you fine-tune your skills. Whether it's advice on improving your braking technique, adjusting your steering input, or increasing your speed through the corners, these tips will be invaluable in helping you become a better driver.

Many first-time rally drivers find that instructor feedback is the most rewarding part of the experience, allowing them to make significant progress in a short period. By the end of the session, you'll have a deeper understanding of what it takes to handle a rally car with precision and control.

Wrapping Up Your Experience

After a few adrenaline-filled laps, your rally driving experience will come to a close. You’ll have the opportunity to debrief with your instructor, discuss your performance, and even receive a certificate commemorating your day behind the wheel.

For many, this experience is more than just a one-time event—it’s the beginning of a new passion. If you find yourself bitten by the rally driving bug, there are plenty of advanced courses and experiences to help you continue developing your skills.

Conclusion

A Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales offers a unique and thrilling opportunity to test your driving skills in a way that few other motorsports can. From the moment you step into the rally car, you’ll be immersed in a world of speed, precision, and adrenaline.

Whether you’re an aspiring rally driver or simply looking for a once-in-a-lifetime experience, you’ll leave the track with newfound skills, a sense of accomplishment, and a deeper appreciation for the art of rally driving. So, if you're ready for the challenge, buckle up and get ready to experience the thrill of rally driving in the South West.

[blackhillsstationcampground]

Ultimate Guide to Sturgis SD Camping During Bike Week

Sturgis, South Dakota, is synonymous with the world's largest motorcycle rally in Sturgis SD camping. Held annually in August, this event draws motorcycle enthusiasts from around the globe to the picturesque Black Hills. If you're planning to camp in Sturgis during Bike Week, you're in for an unforgettable experience. Here are some must-do activities recommended by us “Black Hills Station Campground” to make the most of your time:

 1. Attend Sturgis Motorcycle Rally Events

The heart of Sturgis Bike Week lies in its events and entertainment. Attend the official rally events, which include world-class concerts, bike shows, and stunt performances. Famous musicians often take the stage, making it a memorable experience for music lovers.

 2. Ride the Scenic Byways

The Black Hills are known for their breathtaking scenic byways. Take a ride along the famous Needles Highway or the Iron Mountain Road. These winding roads offer stunning views of granite spires, forests, and wildlife. Don't forget your camera!

 3. Explore Sturgis Main Street

Sturgis Main Street comes alive during Bike Week. It's lined with vendor booths, custom bike displays, and a vibrant atmosphere. What things to do in Sturgis SD during bike week is you can shop for unique biker gear, accessories, and souvenirs or simply soak in the festive ambience.

 4. Visit Mount Rushmore

Mount Rushmore in Sturgis RV campgrounds is a must-visit site of “Black Hills Station Campground”. Marvel at the colossal sculptures of four U.S. presidents carved into the granite mountainside. It's an iconic American landmark and a perfect addition to your Sturgis adventure.

 5. Explore Custer State Park

Camping near Sturgis means you're in close proximity to the stunning Custer State Park. Discover its scenic drives, hiking trails, and abundant wildlife. The Needles Eye and Cathedral Spires are must-see natural wonders within the park.

 6. Attend the Legendary Buffalo Chip

The Buffalo Chip Campground during Sturgis SD Camping is a legendary part of Sturgis Bike Week. It hosts some of the wildest parties, including live music, contests, and motorcycle races. Spending an evening at the Chip is an unforgettable experience.

 7. Take a Scenic Ride to Deadwood

Ride to the historic town of Deadwood, known for its Wild West history and vibrant casinos. Explore the Main Street, visit the graves of Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane, and try your luck at the gaming tables.

 8. Experience Spearfish Canyon

Camping in Sturgis gives you easy access to Spearfish Canyon, a hidden gem. Ride through this picturesque canyon with its lush forests, waterfalls, and towering limestone cliffs. Bridal Veil Falls is a particularly photogenic spot in Sturgis campgrounds.

 9. Enjoy the Biker Camaraderie

One of the most rewarding aspects of Sturgis Bike Week is the sense of camaraderie among bikers. Strike up conversations with fellow riders, swap stories, and make new friends. It's a unique opportunity to connect with people who share your passion for riding. In conclusion, Sturgis SD camping, during Bike Week is a thrilling adventure. Whether you're into the rally's festivities, scenic rides, or exploring the natural wonders of the Black Hills, there's something for everyone. Remember to embrace the spirit of camaraderie and take home memories that will last a lifetime. Sturgis Bike Week is more than just an event; it's an experience that every motorcycle enthusiast should embark upon at least once. Enjoy the ride! All in one, we at “Black Hills Station Campground” devise a perfect and safer bike riding trip in Sturgis City.

[readablenoise]

Radio, Live Transmission: A 28th Anniversary Retrospective on 103.1 The Buzz And It's Lasting Legacy On South Florida

(Pictured Above: 2008 Logo for the Buzz Bake Sale, WPBZ’s annual music festival)

While the station signed off the FM airwaves in 2011, its impact, disappearance and legacy remains prominent to this day.

There is one constant to which you cannot deny; in some facet, in some way, FM radio is heard at least once a day.

Be it in your local coffee shop while you wait for the frother to cease its hissing, inside of a Lyft or your own car, in a retail store (RIP to almost all K-Mart’s) or even perhaps in your own workplace, the medium itself is the oldest driver and receptor of auditory media consumption.

And while there are some television events that will forever be integrated into the ever growing, and increasingly strange fabric of reality, it can arguably be stated that none are as special as radio transmissions.

Think on your childhood. How many of those memories are associated with one of your parents driving in their car, blaring some of their favorite songs with the windows down?

What songs were playing in the background of your first kiss, the volume turned down just enough to hear and feel those first precarious breaths as you both leaned into the unknown?

What songs did your family member have on in the kitchen as they began dinner prep, and you took in the scents and sounds of what would influence you later?

Or maybe your own experience is similar to this particular writers: anxiously waiting to press record as you counted down the minutes to 7pm on a Thursday night. Because this night, tonight on an evening in late September of 2006, when The Killers “When You Were Young” is going to be premiered on The Buzz during Dropping Trou with Ross Mahoney. Finger hovering right over the record button of an old (but reliable) ocean blue boom box. You’ve checked the tape inside about a dozen times, and now you’re just waiting for this Green Day song to finish so you can click it.

Finally, you hear the queue come on for the segment and you mash the button. It’s the World Premiere of the first single from the follow-up of the Las Vegas act and though it’s more than likely being premiered across the country, it somehow feels special. It feels like this is the debut of it on your home station, and the rest of the country can wait.

The special thing about radio, is that every experience is unique. And while every community may or may not have their own rallying call, 103.1 The Buzz, call sign WPBZ, made it somehow feel like this community was the best damn one.

“I was working with a radio consultant at my current station at the time, who was also going to be the consultant for The Buzz. “ says Jason Davis, one of the original DJ’s at the station and host of the weekly Buzz Light show every Sunday morning. “I had expressed my desire to work at a startup modern rock station in a cool market to that consultant before. So when this station was being formed, he had me in mind and recommended I send in an audition.  I did, and the program director, Amy Doyle, heard it and thought it was awful. She called me and told me so, but said I came highly recommended by the consultant so she wanted to give me another chance.  I sent in another audition tape and she liked it, flew me down for an in-person audition, and made me a job offer before I flew back home.”

WPBZ operated in West Palm Beach from 1995 to 2011, being not only a stalwart beacon for alternative music as the sole provider for newer alternative and rock music in West Palm Beach, but provided a rallying point for the entirety of Palm Beach County.

“Everyone who worked there was young and trying to figure out life.” said Dan Stone, who also worked as a DJ on the station and now works as a voice actor and audio producer. “The music and city kinda felt the same. It was where I started to learn production on a DAW which gave me a career as an imaging director and eventually voice actor.”

In addition to the myriad of radio personalities, the station also held the accolade of the Buzz Bake Sale, starting in 1996, with the tagline being 13 bands for $13. The first ever line-up cultivated artists Evan Dando, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Primitive Radio Gods, Butthole Surfers and more onto Coral Sky Amphitheater’s stage.

During its 16 year run, the lineups grew to include Green Day, Reel Big Fish, Foo Fighters, Drowning Pool, Our Lady Peace, Muse, My Chemical Romance, Chevelle and AWOLNATION, to just name a small few of the headliners that graced the bill throughout the years.

“A memorable moment with an artist (there were many) was at the after-party of the '97 Bake Sale and we were standing around having drinks with Green Day.” replied Davis, who is now based in Atlanta as the News Producer for WSB-TV. “I (or someone) asked the singer, Billie Joe Armstrong, if we could snap a photo.  When it came time for the pic, he unexpectedly leapt into my arms. So in the pic, I'm cradling him with a shocked look on my face. Good thing he's a wee little fella and I didn't drop him. Unfortunately that was back in the olden days before digital cameras and the hard copy of the photograph is long lost.”

(Pictured above: The logo for the 10th Year of Buzz Bake Sale in 2006)

“Probably my proudest moment was staying on the air for 36 or 32 hours straight to raise 10k for Forgotten Soldiers. It still upsets me that the only thing people remember was the Handlebars bit.”, said former Buzz DJ Tre Nation, who now works with SiriusXM as an Imaging Producer. “Also, this may not be my proudest but it's one of the things that affected me the most. Standing on stage at Bake Sale and listening to John O’ Connell (Program Director for the station) thank the listeners and say good bye. I still pull up that video on YouTube every now and then and it still chokes me up to this day. I think we all knew what was going to happen, but we didn’t dare say it to each other. I remember walking back stage with Ross (Mahoney, former Buzz DJ and current Regional Vice President of Audacy Alternative) and out of nowhere he told me he loved me. Most would have thought that to be weird but, I knew why he did.”

The station also held sessions such as Buzz Lounge, a special in-studio acoustic performance by an artist. While the performances were broadcasted on air, a select number of listeners would also be allowed in studio to watch the performance, as well as a short interview between the band and one of the DJ’s.

The below performance, uploaded to YouTube of Yellowcard’s “Ocean Avenue” was one such example.

“Working with the other DJ’s & managers, we were truly a TEAM. A band of brothers. And we got to do basically what we wanted.” said Metal Mick McCabe, who was the Production Director for 16 years with the station, and is still involved with the radio industry today. “With the Alternative format, the weirder the better! John (O’Connell) and I really pushed the boundaries of poor taste and humor with the station imaging. ‘Why is it 103.1 The Buzz always sounds better to the hooker tied up in your trunk?' comes to mind…."

Some of the station’s hijinks and various other clips, including the earlier mentioned Buzz Lounge are still available to watch on the station’s archived YouTube page, buzz103 .

“What made the Buzz great was the freedom it gave its staff to say and do what they thought in the moment to entertain and connect with an audience.  The world has become so politically correct that those freedoms have all but been taken away from broadcasters and instead lives in the world of un-regulated podcasts.” answered Mark Rider, former Buzz morning show host who now works as a VA and whose credits also include narration for National Geographic and various commercial campaigns such as “Into The Spiderverse”.

“I’m not sure it would work in WPB.” Nation responded, when asked if he felt a station could operate such as WPBZ did in the current market. “The Buzz came on the air before WPB and Treasure Coast grew into what they are now. That hometown audience has been diluted. Too many people have moved away or just outgrew the music. They have also been replaced by new residents that aren’t necessarily going to support a rock station. A lot like Miami and Ft. Lauderdale. Now it would probably work in a market that’s a bit isolated like a Buffalo or Rochester NY. No one is moving to those places and no one really leaves.”

Since WPBZ’s sign off on December 5th 2011, the city and county remains without a true local alternative or rock station which incorporates newer acts into its rotation.

Currently, the only locally based station within the city range and county remains 98.7 The Gator (WKGR), and while a more modern song does occasionally grace the airwaves, it's playlist caters mostly to classic rock for both this generation and its predecessor.

“I was there for the sign-off. I was the DJ tasked with telling the audience that 'this is it'. I got to thank them and speak from the heart for a little bit. It was very emotional. I played the last song on the air before it switched to the pop station.” elaborates Davis. “The last song was a sweet full-circle moment, Midnight Oil "Beds Are Burning." I smile every time I hear that song since then. The people who were going to launch the new pop station were gracious and allowed me to be in the studio alone for my last break. And I started the song and remained in the studio with it nice and loud for about half the song as I choked back tears. I left the studio, went down the hall, closed an office door and let those tears go. It was like mourning a loved one.”

Since the hole left by the station, there have been an occasional few music festivals to take up the place of an annual local alternative music festival, but none have truly lasted.

Rock venues itself have come down to only perhaps half a handful of major players for smaller acts, which include Respectable Street in Downtown West Palm Beach, and both Propaganda and Bamboo Room in Lake Worth. The lack of a rock radio station in the county has resulted in a ripple effect which has reduced the live music market for Southern Florida to arena shows with exorbitant prices (resell tickets for My Chemical Romance’s sold out show in Fort Lauderdale were upwards of $400 for nosebleed seats, and near double the amount for other closer areas), and a lack of attention, desire and traction for local acts in the area.

A trend which Broward publication New Times noted in their tributary article following WPBZ’s sign-off. “Concertgoers will soon start to notice that fewer and fewer tours will come our way. After all, why should agents book tours to an area where there is apparently no rock market and no avenue to help in promoting? Not everyone uses the internet to find out what concerts are coming to their area; radio has a hand in that one, as well as bringing the sounds of new music to our ears we otherwise would not have known about. A lot of smaller alternative artists may not have had a fan base in South Florida if not for the Buzz giving them the necessary spins for listeners to discover them and venture out to experience them live.”

This may also attribute to why the stations fans remain loyally dedicated to this day, almost 12 years since its last transmission. The Facebook group, REMEMBER Buzz 103.1, currently has nearly 900 active members, with past personalities of the station often active on the group as well.

(Pictured above: Logo for the station from its inception to it’s final sign off)

“What a unique time.  Maybe the last time in American history will a format of music be so powerful in uniting an entire generation of listeners. The music was like a drug that we all couldn't get enough of.  We lived it, thrived off of it and needed it to be complete human beings learning how to grow up in such a strange time.” Rider continued, when asked of the experience working with the station.

“It was a thrill for me. I love the fact that I got introduced to, and introduced so many others to, bands that were unheard of at the time and ended up being some of our lifelong favorites. I waved the 311 flag proudly since The Buzz first started. Those guys are still chugging along with a loyal fan base 30 years later.” Davis stated.

There are still glimmering beacons of hope around the country for flagship alternative stations.

In the San Francisco Bay Area, Live 105 (KITS) returned to the airwaves on June 5th of this year, two years after going off air, when it was changed to Dave FM. And former Buzz DJ Ross Mahoney, as Davis states, “has been the King of Las Vegas radio for years now, and rightfully so.”

Davis continues. “These days I listen to a public radio station out of southern California, KCSN. They aren't 90's alternative rock like The Buzz was (hardly any station is these days, which makes sense). But they aren't beholden to ratings, so they can play what they want. It's very eclectic and they have lots of great specialty shows. You're not going to hear hard rock like Tool or Rage or anything. But you might hear some obscure Talking Heads, into Marley, into Garbage, into Jack White, into brand new Depeche Mode, into some new band you've probably never heard of, etc. You never really know what you're going to hear.”

Stone adds “I wish people demanded more from radio instead of letting corporations and hedge funds call the shots.  It’s a public trust and citizens could put pressure on the government to demand more live local content.”

Nation elaborates further. “Terrestrial radio is still the dominant platform. The reason people seek out other platforms is because of commercials and the fact that terrestrial radio lacks personality and won’t take real risks with new music and artists.”

“Radio as an industry destroyed itself when it decided that it was more important to focus on websites and apps than it did the connection between itself as a product and the consumer.” says Rider. “The clock is ticking like it has been for a long time now.  Radio as we knew it doesn't even exist anymore except for a few big major markets that still employ real people that actually live in that town.  Even though I am the station voice for over 30 radio stations around the country, I would be shocked if real personality radio is ever really a thing again."

The legacy that WPBZ instituted into the hot concrete of Florida remains a timeless and irrefutable staple. And it’s a token that the former personalities are thankful for.

(Pictured Above: Buzz Bake Sale 2006 Staff Photo, courtesy of Jason Davis)

“I’m incredibly grateful to have been a part of that station and its staff and to have experienced the leadership of John O. I'm also insanely thankful for the support and loyalty of the Buzz listeners. If my career would have ended with the station like it did for some, I would have considered my career incredibly successful. I deeply miss each and every one of you”, says Nation.

Davis adds, “I had so much fun hosting Buzz Light for all those years. Sure, it sucked to get up early most every Sunday (sometimes still "buzzed" from Saturday night) and drive in. But it was a true open format.  I could play what I want, play any request I wanted. Add any new music I wanted.  It was a blast.”

While it may be a more personal opinion, and perhaps even biased, it is an undeniable fact: South Florida has some of the most passionately driven music fans, and fanbases, of anywhere in the country.

It may not be the small-town hotspot that Washington is, or the underground chic that New York has always carried, but Florida is one of the most powerful markets.

Take out the tourism, strange animals, Florida Man and mounting news headlines against the state and look at its demographic.

Here are the young and in-between generation: a group which stands on a sinking piece of land that may very well be the next Venice, Italy. But we stand on its soggy, mosquito infested and sandy shores, supporting all our friends' bands.

We go to shows, even if our backs hurt and we have work the next morning. We mosh, sing our hearts out under a humid veranda of stars and then drive through the traffic the next day.

We wear band tees in the summer despite the fact that Gildan shirt brand clearly wants to kill us, because who else will rep these bands? Where else can we broadcast our love for new music, acts and show our passion for those acts which shaped our youth, along with the Buzz?

Local and national acts, once they come to the state and most especially West Palm Beach, seem to make a valiant effort to try and come on back once they do. Because they see a crazy, tired and passionately diverse group of people, who just want to sing the words we had etched in our hearts, right back to the people who gave us the words to begin with.

As Dio once said “The world is full of kings and queens, they’ll blind your eyes and steal your dreams, it’s heaven and hell”. And strangely, it encapsulates Florida pretty well.

Whether the FM radio will ever blast alternative once more, we carry that little piece with us.

The FM radio, playing softly in the background, narrating some of our favorite moments. In the car, in our room, and kitchens.

And where there’s a kid, getting excited to hear their favorite song on the radio, is hope for the next wave of possibility.

“The love and honest to God passion for this station is undeniably one of the most timeless things I have ever been a small part of and I am wicked proud to have been a part of such an amazing time in radio in West Palm Beach.” Rider stated. “There will NEVER be a tighter group of people who respected and understood each other more.”

-Jenelle DeGuzman

Additional Links:

The archive Buzz YouTube Page can be viewed here: https://www.youtube.com/@buzz103/videos

New Times full article, “RIP The Buzz 103.1 -- Goodbye South Florida Rock Shows?” written by the New Times Staff can be read in it’s entirety here: https://www.browardpalmbeach.com/music/rip-the-buzz-1031-goodbye-south-florida-rock-shows-6426023

The Wikipedia page for KITS, which has a partial and condensed history of the station can be viewed here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/KITS

The REMEMBER Buzz 103.1 Facebook Group Page can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/242324635833984/

[mallelondon]

Automotive photographer Tom Kahler joined the inaugural Great Malle Mountain Rally as part of our documentary team. This is the longest motorcycle rally ever attempted and hosted across the entirety of the Alps Mountain Range. The Rally route lead the Rally teams across all of the highest and wildest mountain passes in each Alpine territory, 6 countries in 6 days, with 75 wild motorcycles/riders taking on the adventure. Tom Kahler had the enviable roll of driving the ‘Malle Rally Spec. Morgan Super 3’ in the Mountain Rally adventure, documenting the experience amongst the Rally teams. This Alpine voyage started in Austria, with the Rally start line being held at the exquisite Schloss Friedberg in Innsbruck. The Rally route then crossed each Alpine country and the entire Alpine mountain range from East to West and North to South. Starting at the modest altitude of 600m in Innsbruck, up to the heights on multiple mountain passes at over 2700m and down to the finish line in Monaco to 0m, at sea-level, as riders crossed the finish line and dived into the Mediterranean. Photo report now up in the Malle Journal. https://mallelondon.com/the-great-malle-mountain-rally-2022 @tomkahler x @mallelondon #TheGreatMalleMountainRally #Adventure #Travel #Rally #Motorcycle #RallySquad #RealAdventure #MotorcycleAdventure #roadtrip #TheAlps #alps #Alps #InappropriateMotorcycle #Customs #CustomMotorcycle #Scrambler #Classic #CafeRacer #MalleLondon #MotorcycleRally #PreparedToGetLost (at Dolomiti, Trentino-Alto Adige, Italian Alps) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkxtyJaogK8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[aion-rsa]

Warrior: The Real History of the Race Riot that Shook San Francisco

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains Warrior spoilers.

In “Enter the Dragon,” the ninth episode of Season 2, Warrior rips a page out from history with its depiction of San Francisco Riot of 1877. On July 23, two nights of racial violence tore through Chinatown, killing four and destroying over $100,000 worth of Chinese-owned property. In Warrior there’s a much higher body count, but the show is “historical fiction” and never set out to be entirely accurate.

According to Warrior’s head writer Jonathan Tropper, “What’s important to us are the themes and the characters of the truths of the racism and the difficulty of the immigrant experience at that time. We’re taking all of our inspiration from historical characters and events, but we’re not telling a any kind of docudrama level, historical story.”

Race Riot in the City of Angels

The San Francisco riot was preceded by other attacks on Chinese Americans in a what is known as the “Driving Out.” In another Californian riot, the Chinese Massacre of 1871 happened in Los Angeles on October 24 when a mob of around 500 white and Hispanic rioters struck in Old Chinatown after hearing that a policeman was shot, and a rancher killed by a Chinese. It is estimated that 20 Chinese were lynched (although a few were shot dead prior to being hanged). In 1850, Los Angeles had a proportionally high number of lynchings for its size. 

Like in Warrior, the Los Angeles massacre was traced to a rivalry between two Chinatown tongs, but instead of the Hop Wei and the Long Zii, they were real tongs: the Hong Chow and the Nin Yung. Prostitution was rampant in Chinatown, an aspect that Warrior depicts with disturbingly accuracy, and Chinese women were commonly kidnapped and sold into sex slavery. Local police might attempt to rescue these women and return them for a fee. The abduction of a woman named Yut Ho sparked a feud between the Hong Chow and the Nin Yung and the policeman and rancher got caught in the crossfire. 

Ten men were prosecuted and eight were convicted of manslaughter for the lynchings, however the convictions were overturned due to “technicalities” after an appeal. In 1863, California law made it so that Asians could not testify against whites in court. That made Chinese easy targets for racial injustice by the time that these anti-Chinese attacks began occurring. 

Other Chinese massacres took place in the wild west. There was the Rock Springs Massacre in Rock Springs, Wyoming in 1885. That left nearly 30 Chinese dead and many homes destroyed. The government did offer some restitution for property loss, but no one was ever arrested or held accountable for the bloodshed. In 1887, same year as the San Francisco riot, there was the Hells Canyon Massacre in Oregon. Some 34 Chinese gold miners were killed. Again no one was ever held accountable. In 2005, the site was renamed Chinese Massacre Cove.

Race Riot in the City by the Bay

Starting in 1873, the United States suffered the “Long Depression,” which was originally called ‘The Great Depression’ until the 1930s when another economic depression usurped the title. Unemployment levels were staggering across the nation and this was long before the U.S. had established any government protections for the unemployed. The Long Depression carried on throughout the 1870s, the period in which Warrior is set. In Episode 17 “If You Wait by the River Long Enough…” the Panic of ’73 is mentioned. That panic was the historic catalyst for the Long Depression. 

San Francisco was hit hard. Unemployment was up to 20% and the Bank of California had failed. On July 23, 1877, a labor strike led by the Workingmen’s Party rallied in a vacant lot – nicknamed a ‘sand-lot’ – near the newly established City Hall of San Francisco. The Workingmen’s Party was founded in 1877 and is often confused with the Workingmen’s Party of the United States (WPUS) which was founded around the same time. The WUPS changed its name soon after to the Socialist Labor Party and it is the oldest socialist political party in the United States.

The Socialist Labor Party still active and is currently headquartered in Mountain View, California, about 30 miles south of San Francisco. The San Francisco Workingmen’s Party, more formally known as the Workingmen’s Party of California eventually rose to enough power to rewrite the state’s constitution. The sand-lot meeting was just the beginning. 

Some 8000 people showed up to that fateful sand-lot gathering strike. Initially, blaming the Chinese was not part of the platform. But then an anti-coolie procession pushed their way in, demanding to be heard. The crowd on the outskirts of the gathering turned on a Chinese passing by, attacking him, and shouting the rallying cry “On to Chinatown!” That launched the San Francisco Riot of 1877.

The mob destroyed property, mostly Chinese laundries. That old stereotype of Chinese laundries was based in fact. Laundry work was difficult prior to industrial washing machines and considered unmanly, but the Chinese were willing to do it. In 1880, San Francisco had some 200 Chinese laundries. The laundries were obvious targets, along with any challengers or bystanders that crossed the mob’s path. 

The next morning, the rioting grew. One of the mob organizers placed an ad in the local newspaper that said “RALLY! RALLY! Great anti-coolie Mass Meeting at the New City Hall, Market street, at 8 o’clock p.m.” On July 24, the Beale Street Wharf was set aflame.  From 1872 to 1907, the Beale Street Wharf was the city’s largest coal dock, and arsonists stoked the fire with 100 barrels of whale oil. However, it was a diversion to draw the city’s emergency resources away from downtown and Chinatown, where the riots would continue. That fire caused some $500,000 worth of damage and lost goods. 

When the mob marched on Chinatown, the Chinese houses in their path had been listed and were complete sacked. Wooden sidewalks were torn up to be used as battering rams. Homes were robbed. Laundries were burned. People were shot. The rampage lasted for two days until it was finally quelled by the combined forces of the SFPD, the California militia, and a thousand members of the Pick-Axe Brigade, a citizen vigilance committee that armed themselves with hickory pick-axe handles. Special 24-hour badges were issue by the SFPD to civilians willing to help. And the police were eager to break out their newly issued police batons, which according to the San Francisco Bulletin were “more effective than any other instrument in the business of skull-cracking.”

The Match that Lit the Fuse

The end of riot was not the end of anti-Chinese sentiments. Quite the opposite, it was just the beginning. Denis Kearny was one of the agitators from the Workingmen’s Party who participated in the sand-lot rally and the riot. He emerged as political leader for the anti-Chinese and anti-capitalist movement, pushing the slogan “The Chinamen Must Go.” Anti-Chinese sentiment kept growing in the United States, culminating in the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882 which banned the immigration of Chinese laborers. It remains the only such law to prohibit a specific ethnic group or nationality ever established in the United States and it wasn’t repealed until 1943. However, Chinese immigrants were still restricted to only 105 per year for the entire country. This was upheld until the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. 

Warrior has been moving towards the Chinese Exclusion Act throughout the show. It has been brought up several scenes set in San Francisco’s political arena, especially by Buckley (Langley Kirkwood), who has made this Act the focus of his manipulative agenda. Recently there has been rise in anti-Chinese sentiment in the United States as the nation has become more racially divided. Extremists have blamed the pandemic on the Chinese, calling it the China flu or the Kung flu, and attacks on Chinese Americans have been increasing in many major metropolitan cities across the nation. Warrior has been hitting eerily close to home with its depictions of history and its comments on the ramifications. 

Here is where Warrior captures the spirit of Bruce Lee the best. Martial arts aside, Lee transcended race to become one of the world’s greatest icons. In his famous interview by Pierre Berton, Lee was asked if he thought of himself as Chinese or North American. His reply was timeless, “I think of myself as a human being, because under one sky we are but one family, it just so happens we look different.”

As writer and philosopher George Santayana said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Even though it is fiction, Warrior‘s insightful Easter Eggs of these darker times in American history. It reminds us to honor the diversity of our great nation and remain united as Americans.

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The post Warrior: The Real History of the Race Riot that Shook San Francisco appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2KQZwxv

[sci-moba]

South Africa the land of Xenophobia.

By Mubarak Ajah Obiahu.

The word xenophobia is made up of the Greek words 'xenos', which means strange or foreigner, and 'phobos', which means fear so the word ‘Xenophobia simply means  ‘the fear of strangers or foreigners.

Some reasons for xenophobia.

The fear of foreigners can be attributed to one of the reasons responsible for having negative thinking about the foreigners and this can lead citizens to see strangers or foreigners as someone who have  come to reign chaos in the homelands , competition for jobs because of the incoming 'aliens'. The locals, along with the already existing competition, have to further face steep odds owing to the influx of foreigners. Even in case of the ones who are already employed, replacements are available, rather easily. Thus, foreigners might be a threat to their jobs. Foreigners are seen as a threat to the local heritage and legacy. The migrations result in sharing of resources, including the natural ones, which can lead to a stress on the economy and the general lifestyle of the natives. Hatred is passed along among the locals. Along with this, the hatred towards foreigners can be a reciprocated reaction when the roles were reversed, there might be a bad egg among the good but generalizing one negative experience from one foreigner or a bunch of them, and applying it to every stranger or foreigner leads to Xenophobia.

Xenophobia in South Africa since 1994 till date.

Most of us  think xenophobia started yesterday or last week in south Africa but hell no xenophobia has been one of the trending topics in South Africa and it has continued to gain media attention throughout the world with everyone asking why some South Africans go that far as to attack their fellow Africans because they are foreigners allegedly taking over local jobs and history has it on record that the current xenophobic attacks are not the first of its kind. As in past years, it has occurred and continues to happen.

Prior to 1994, immigrants from elsewhere faced discrimination and even violence in South Africa. After majority rule in 1994, contrary to expectations, the incidence of xenophobia increased in South Africa Between 2000 and March 2008, at least 67 people died in what were identified as xenophobic attacks. In May 2008, a series of attacks left 62 people dead; although 21 of those killed were South African citizens. The attacks were motivated by xenophobia. In 2015, another nationwide spike in xenophobic attacks against immigrants in general prompted a number of foreign governments to begin repatriating their citizens. A Pew Research poll conducted in 2018 showed that 62% of South Africans viewed immigrants as a burden on society by taking jobs and social benefits and that 61% of South Africans thought those immigrants were more responsible for crime than other groups.

Despite a lack of directly comparable data, xenophobia in South Africa is perceived to have significantly increased after the election of a Black majority government in 1994. According to a 2004 study published by the Southern African Migration Project (SAMP).  

The ANC government – in its attempts to overcome the divides of the past and build new forms of social cohesion ... embarked on an aggressive and inclusive nation-building project. One unanticipated by-product of this project has been a growth in intolerance towards outsiders ... Violence against foreign citizens and African refugees has become increasingly common in south Africa and communities are divided by hostility and suspicion.

According to a 1998 Human Rights Watch report, immigrants from Malawi, Zimbabwe and Mozambique living in the Alexandra township were "physically assaulted over a period of several weeks in January 1995, as armed gangs identified suspected undocumented migrants and marched them to the police station in an attempt to 'clean' the township of foreigners. "The campaign, known as "Buyelekhaya" (go back home), blamed foreigners for crime, unemployment and sexual attacks.

In September 1998, a Mozambican national and two Senegalese citizens were thrown out of a train. The assault was carried out by a group returning from a rally that blamed foreigners for unemployment, crime and the spread of AIDS.

In 2000, seven foreigners were killed on the Cape Flats over a five-week period in what police described as xenophobic murders possibly motivated by the fear that outsiders would claim property belonging to locals.

In October 2001, residents of the Zandspruit informal settlement gave Zimbabwean citizens ten days to leave the area. When the foreigners failed to leave voluntarily, they were forcefully evicted and their shacks were burned down and looted. Community members said they were angry that Zimbabweans were employed whilst locals remained jobless and blamed the foreigners for a number of crimes.

In 2005 and first week of 2006, at least four people, including two Zimbabweans, died in the Olievenhoutbosch settlement after foreigners were blamed for the death of a local man. Shacks belonging to foreigners were set alight and locals demanded that police remove all immigrants from the area.

In August 2006, Somali refugees appealed for protection after 21 Somali traders were killed in July of that year and 26 more in August. The immigrants believed the murders to be motivated by xenophobia, although police rejected the assertion of a concerted campaign to drive Somali traders out of townships in the Western Cape.

Attacks on foreign nationals increased markedly in late-2007 and it is believed that there were at least a dozen attacks between January and May 2008.The most severe incidents occurred on 8 January 2008 when two Somali shop owners were murdered in the Eastern Cape towns of Jeffreys Bay and East London, then in March 2008 when seven people were killed including Zimbabweans, Pakistanis and a Somali national after their shops and shacks were set alight in Atteridgeville near Pretoria.

2008 South Africa riots Part of the history of South Africa

Result 62 people died and several hundred injured, voluntary deportation of immigrants to home countries, destruction of immigrant-owned property.

On 12 May 2008 a series of riots started in the township of Alexandra (in the north-eastern part of Johannesburg) when locals attacked migrants from Mozambique, Malawi and Zimbabwe, killing two people and injuring 40 others.

In the following weeks the violence spread, first to other settlements in the Gauteng Province, then to the coastal cities of Durban and Cape Town. Attacks were also reported in parts of the Southern Cape, Mpumalanga, the North West and Free State.

In May 2009, one year after the attacks, the City of Cape Town said it would apply for an eviction order to force 461 remaining refugees to leave two refugee camps in that city

The attacks were condemned by a wide variety of organizations and government leaders throughout Africa and the rest of the world.

The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees expressed concerns about the violence and urged the South African government to cease deportation of Zimbabwean nationals and also to allow the refugees and asylum seekers to regularize their stay in the country.

Malawi began repatriation of some of its nationals in South Africa. The Mozambican government sponsored a repatriation drive that saw the registration of at least 3 275 individuals.

In late May 2009, reports emerged regarding a possible resurgence of xenophobic related activity and the organizing of attacks in the Western Cape. Reports of threats and secret meetings by local businessmen surfaced in Gugulethu,Khayelitsha and Philippi, Cape Town. Samora Machel in Philippi once again emerging as a flash-point.In Gugulethu, reports emerged of secret meetings by local businessmen discussing 'what to do about Somali shopkeepers'. The Anti-Eviction Campaign brought these issues to the open by organizing a series of anti-xenophobia meetings attempting to find the root cause of the crisis.

In November 2009, a community of 1500-2500 Zimbabwean farm workers was forcibly evicted from their homes in the informal settlements of De Doorns, a grape-farming town in the Western Cape. No persons were physically assaulted but homes were trashed and looted and this led to the biggest displacement of foreign nationals since May 2008. The Zimbabweans were then housed in a displaced persons' camp where some remained for a year until it was closed. Researchers identified the role of a ward councilor, Mpumelelo Lubisi, in inciting the attack in possible collusion with informal labor brokers who had financial interests in getting rid of their Zimbabwean competitors. South African workers also accused farmers of employing the Zimbabweans at less than minimum wage (farmers and Zimbabwean workers denied this).

On 30 May 2013, 25-year-old Abdi Nasir Mahmoud Good was stoned to death. The violence was captured on a mobile phone and shared on the Internet. Three Somali shopkeepers were killed in June 2013 and the Somali government requested the South African authorities to do more to protect their nationals. Among those murdered were two brothers who were allegedly hacked to death. The attacks led to public outcry and worldwide protests by the Somali diaspora, in Cape Town, London and Minneapolis.

On 7 June 2014, a Somali national, in his 50s, was reportedly stoned to death and two others were seriously injured when the angry mob of locals attacked their shop in extension 6 late on Saturday. Three more Somalis were wounded from gunshots and shops were looted.

After another round of xenophobic violence against Somali entrepreneurs in April 2015, Somalia's government announced that it would evacuate its citizens from South Africa.

In April 2015, there was an upsurge in xenophobic attacks throughout the country. The attacks started in Durban and spread to Johannesburg. Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini has be accused of fueling the attacks by saying that foreigners should "go back to their countries".

Locals looted foreigners' shops and attacked immigrants in general, forcing hundreds to relocate to police stations across the country. The Malawian authorities subsequently began repatriating their nationals, and a number of other foreign governments also announced that they would evacuate their citizens. More than 300 people were arrested. On 18 April 2015 a photographer from the Sunday Times, James Oatway, photographed a brutal attack on a Mozambican man. The man, Emmanuel Sithole, died from his wounds. Four suspects were arrested within days of the publication of photographs in the edition of 19 April of The Sunday Times of the murder of Mozambican street vendor Emmanuel Sithole in Alexandratownship the previous day. Sithole's name is not included in the official list of seven victims killed in the April 2015 attacks, including an Ethiopian, a Mozambican, a Bangladeshi, a Zimbabwean and three South Africans who were all killed in KwaZulu-Natal.

In October 2015 there were sustained xenophobic attacks in Grahams town in the Eastern Cape. It as reported than more than 500 people were displaced and more than 300 shops and homes looted and, in some cases, destroyed altogether. In these attacks Muslims were specifically targeted.

The Grahams town xenophobic attacks that took place on 21 October 2015, and coincided with the Fees Must Fall protest at Rhodes University, lasted for several days.

On 21 October 2015 taxi drivers attacked plaza shops owned by Pakistani, Somali, Bangladeshi and Ethiopian residents of Grahams town. There was a mobilization of people by the taxi drivers, with the aim of attacking and looting shops owned by foreigners. There was a rumour that insinuated that foreigners were responsible for the rampant murders in town: that an "Arab man had killed and mutilated women" around town and that the police had not done anything to address these rumours. Grahams town residents in the townships were angry at the police for not doing anything to dispel the rumours, despite having been warned by the councillors that the residents might end up taking the law into their own hands. Thus, it was these rumours that incited the attacks on foreigners.

On 23 October, the Makana Municipality held a town meeting at City Hall. The meeting was focused on how the municipality and the South African police would pacify the residents and address the situation. During that meeting, there was no representative from the police and one of the ward councilors further legitimized the attacks through xenophobic sentiments center on not giving foreigners a platform to have their own shops. The attacks continued, with taxi drivers transporting looters for free, according to the residents of Grahams town.

Reports from the residents allege that the police's attitudes were that of indifference, with some participating in the looting. The policing of the attacks was elitist as there was a line on Beaufort street which pointed out where looting would be tolerated and where it would not be. Thus, looting was allowed in the township and not tolerated in town.The police only pacified the situation and restored order after a week of attacks and looting. The xenophobic attacks in Grahamstown differed from the usual xenophobic attacks in South Africa as the ones in Grahamstown were mostly targeted at Muslims. The main reason why Muslims were targeted was mainly due to the rumour that an Arab man was responsible for the murder of women in the town.

From 20–23 June 2016 a wave of riots hit the City of Tshwane. Although the riots were sparked by political discontent within the ANC .Somali, Pakistani and other foreign owned shops and micro enterprises were targeted for looting and a number of foreigners were attacked.

On Friday 24 February 2017 a large scale and officially sanctioned anti-immigrant protest was organized and held in the Pretoria. Protesters marched to the Foreign Ministry and handed a petition to government representatives. Protesters accused immigrants of taking jobs from South Africans, causing crime and complained that "they are arrogant and they don't know how to talk to people, especially Nigerians."136 protesters were arrested during the march.

On the 25 March 2019 xenophobic riots targeting African immigrants broke out in Sydenham, Jadhu Place and Over port areas of Durban. Around one hundred people attacked businesses owned by foreign nationals resulting in around 50 people seeking shelter in a local police station and mosque. Three people were killed in the riot.A speech given by President Cyril Ramaphosa at the ANC's election manifesto for the 2019 South African general election was blamed for contributing to xenophobic feeling wherein Ramaphosa committed to cracking down on undocumented foreigners involved in criminal activities. The attacks on foreigners were criticized by both the South African government and political parties amidst calls to ensure that xenophobic sentiment was not exploited for electoral purposes.

On 1 September 2019 riots and looting targeting shops owned by foreign nationals broke out in Jeppestown and Johannesburg CBD. By the end of 2 September around 81 people had reportedly been arrested by police for looting. Around 50 businesses predominantly owned by Africans of which Nigerians was the main target from the rest of the continent were reportedly destroyed or damaged during the incident.

South Africa biting the finger that feed her.

Nigeria – South Africa relations refers to the current and historical relationship between Nigeria and South Africa. Both countries are former British colonies. Both countries are members of the Commonwealth of Nations and African Union but South Africans have forgotten the support that Nigeria rendered to ANC during apartheid.

The Apartheid

During the apartheid era in South Africa, Nigeria was one of the foremost supporters of anti-apartheid movements, including the African National Congress; the Nigerian government issued more than 300 passports to South Africans seeking to travel abroad. Sonny Okosun, a Nigerian musician, wrote the hit song "Fire in Soweto" in 1977 to commemorate the 1976 Soweto uprising against apartheid in South Africa.    

Post-apartheid.

Following the end of apartheid in 1994, South African businesses sought for professionals to immigrate and a large number of Nigerians did so and Nigeria immigrant are part of those that developed south Africa.  Very sad that South Africa has forgotten all this in a short period of time.

Foreigners and the South African Police Service.

The police are meant to bring peace in the society and also to settle internal cases between Foreigners and citizens of that country but in south Africa the foreigners could not rely on police for protection because the police mistreating them, stealing from them and making unconfirmed allegations that they sell drugs, the police are also fueling the citizens to maltreat the foreigners.

Foreigners and the South African Police Service.

The police are meant to bring peace in the society and also to settle internal cases between Foreigners and citizens of that country but in south Africa the foreigners could not rely on police for protection because the police mistreating them, stealing from them and making unconfirmed allegations that they sell drugs, the police are also fueling the citizens to maltreat the foreigners.

South African Small Business Development Minister Lindiwe Daphney Zulu said  “foreign business owners cannot expect to co-exist peacefully with local business owners unless they share their trade secrets. According to Zulu, foreign business owners had an advantage over South African business owners due to marginalization under apartheid. "They cannot barricade themselves in and not share their practices with local business owners". Is this what a real African should say?.

African Union.

AU as the regional institution mandated to advance cooperation among African states and between Africa and the international community, the AU has the capacity to be a significant actor in addressing xenophobia and other issues.

AU is mandated to promote human rights, sanctity of life, and peaceful co-existence and cooperation between African states, as well as position the continent at an advantage within the international community.

To co-ordinate and intensify the co-operation of African states in order to achieve a better life for the people of Africa.

To ensure that all Africans enjoyed human rights. Raise the living standards of all Africans. Settle arguments and disputes between members – not through fighting but rather peaceful and diplomatic negotiation.

To bringing the African nations together and resolve the issues within the continent.

To defend the sovereignty, territorial integrity and independence of African states.

Xenophobia has been a trending topics in South Africa and it has  gain media attention throughout the world, they might claim that foreigners are into job or entrepreneurship competition with them but they forget they are south African citizens in other African countries doing legal and illegal businesses. Africans livinf in south Africa are been maltreated and  yet AU has not done anything tangible to put an end to this inhuman act, South Africa have to be Sanctioned.

“Total liberation and unification of Africa under an All-African Socialist Government must be the primary objective of all Black revolutionaries throughout the world. It is an objective which, when achieved, will bring about the fulfillment of the aspirations of African and people of African descent everywhere. It will at the same time advance the triumph of the international socialist revolution, and the onward progress towards world communism, under which, every society is ordered on the principle of –from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” — Osagyefo Kwame Nkrumah.

Some reasons why Africa should unit.

v  Resident permit  and visa free.

We say “we are on Africa” then why do we have to pay residence permit when we travel from our country to another African country?, why must we get visa in order to enter another African country?, why are we treated as a foreigner in another African country?. If Africa unite there will be nothing like resident permit for any African citizen living in another country within the continent and there will be visa free for all African willing to travel within the continent.

v  Africa is extremely wealthy! In fact, it is the wealthiest land mass on the face of the earth. This wealth can be found in its abundant mineral resources and in its huge agricultural potential. However, because this wealth is unevenly distributed, showing no relationship to the artificial, imperialist imposed division of the continent, this wealth can only benefit the masses of African people when it is shared on a continent-wide basis.

v  To invest in large scale production, in both industry and agriculture, a large amount of investment resources is needed. When Africa unites, it will be able to pool its investment resources to ensure that it will have enough money to invest in the large-scale production of industrial and agricultural goods and services. Once Africa unites, it will no longer have to go begging the World Bank, IMF, and various donor nations of the world for loans that are tied to very high interest rates and exploitative conditions designed to keep Africa impoverished and dependent. In short, genuine African unity, where the wealth and resources of this great continent are amassed in the ‘Great Bank of Africa’ and shared amongst its people, is the only alternative for Africa Separately to avoid begging for loans that are designed to keep Africa poor and in perpetual debt.

v  Only a united Africa will be able to protect its market! China protects its industries by keeping its currency, the rinminbi, relatively low, thus ensuring its exports will remain attractive on the global market. The United States provides millions of dollars of subsidies for its farmers—especially its rice, cotton, and maize growers—in order to protect their goods against local competition in countries.

v  One of the best ways to integrate Africa’s economy, enhance inter-African trade, and gain control in setting the prices of African exports is through the use of a common currency. A common African currency will eliminate the transaction costs customers pay when buying a different currency other than their own, especially for those involved in inter-African trade. the African common currency will become an international currency of higher value that billions of people, inside and outside of Africa, will have to acquire in order to purchase anything made and sold anywhere in Africa.

v  Africa will allow nearly 20 African countries to acquire the benefits of having immediate access to the sea. With slightly more than 70% of the earth’s surface covered by the ocean, the benefits of having immediate access to marine life are tremendous. They include, minimally, food, medicine, raw materials, mineral resources, tourism, and the protection of geopolitical strategic interests.

v  The UN, NATO, EU, USA, or any other entity outside of Africa can never and will never solve our problems. None of them have the interest, will, means, or mandate to do so; instead, if left in their hands, they will only make matters worst in order to make Africa more malleable for continued imperialist domination.

Nelson  Mandela said  “I dream of the realization of the unity of Africa, whereby its leaders combine in their effort to solve the problem of the continent. I dram of our vast deserts, of our forests, of our great wildernesses”.

We are one Africa so in order to stop this inhuman act in South Africa or any other African country.

Kwame Nkrumah once said “Africa must unite or perish!’ Without genuine African unity, our continent will remain at the mercy of imperialist domination and exploitation”.

[kaescarribean-blog]

week one.

Hi - a little introduction for me: I’m Kaelynn, and I am a rising junior at the University of South Carolina! This semester, however, I’m missing beloved football season and taking a semester in St. Thomas, USVI, through the National Student Exchange program (NSE). Today is Saturday, August 17th, so that means I’ve been here for four days now, although it seems just a million times longer than that. I was so incredibly nervous for this trip for the two weeks leading up to it, with fear and anxiety that I wouldn’t make any friends, that I wouldn’t be able to find my way to the school, that I wouldn’t pack enough (I didn’t, so that was a valid fear), and everything in between. Now that I’m here, thats almost entirely out the window, and I could not be more happy or grateful for this experience!

tues. aug 13:

actually, this was my birthday. I was a little sad, because I would be without any friends or family, so I wasn’t too happy about this. I woke up at 4 am and drove to Logan intl in Boston, and the next thing I knew I was awkwardly walking around the airport trying to carry the three suitcases and backpack I had on me alone, scared, and very nervous. However, a good 6 hours later and I had already landed in St. Thomas. The airport was very small, with only two carousels for baggage claim. Because of this, a group of the NSE students found each other right off the bat and were lucky enough to grab a taxi together to the school. While this was a little difficult due to us not having a lot of info from housing, being among other people who I knew were just as confused as I was was surprisingly comforting. It was a familiar anxiety and excitement, exactly like being a freshman at USC was at first. We checked in and began setting up our dorms, and it wasn’t long before we met multiple other NSE kids as well - one being my suitemate (and now roommate, but that’s another story). The girls that I had met earlier came by my room and asked us to come to Kmart, which is the big store on the island for anything you need, and so we did. We took safaris there, which are essentially pickup trucks with benches and some windows in the back. They drive on the opposite side of the road, and roads are incredibly narrow, but the safari drivers never seem to notice and drive fast and precisely weaving throughout the island. In Kmart we noticed everything was a lot more expensive than on the mainland (what everyone calls the continental US here) - a pair of twin sheets cost something like 60 bucks! Another kid bought a can of peanuts for 7! This was a little worrisome, but we’ve come to know that everyyyyything here is pretty much expensive because it has to be imported. Gas here is 3.77 a gallon. I rest my case. We got to know some more NSE kids, got some stuff for our dorm, ate dinner together at the mediocre cafeteria, and then, when we were about to go to bed, we remembered something. The beach!! Our school has one within like a 3 minute walking distance, so we decided to rally everyone up,  and get down to the water. It was amazing. The water was so warm and we could see clearly down to our feet even though it was pitch black outside, and it started to seem like things were going to turn out juuuuust fine here. 

wed. aug 14:

Today, we had orientation. Then, we had orientation. After we had lunch, then some more orientation. Not much happened here besides just talking more to the NSE kids and getting to know everyone better, and throwing together an intense snapchat group (a lot of kids don’t have their service working for their phones) ((mine has been working the entire time, thank god for verizon)). When we finally finished up at orientation, I think we went to the beach? It feels like a million days has passed already, but I know I’ve gone everyday, which has been amazing. After this, we found out it was “ladies night” at a place downtown, so we all hopped in some insanely overpriced taxis and headed out. We stayed there for 6 hours, and we all got to know each other that much better. I may be developing an affinity to reggae music. 

thurs. aug 15:

Again, lots of orienting to do. We had a convocation ceremony that my roommate and I decided to take advantage of island time for, and showed up a few hours late. We were so tired this was the way to go for us, and we still got to hear the president’s speech and talk to our college deans, so we didn’t miss much. Compared to USC’s 26,362 student body, UVI has 2,138. This is wayyyy different from what I’m used to, but kind of nice because you can talk to the president or your dean with incredible ease - they even gave out their cell phone numbers. I’ve never even seen my dean of college, even when I needed her to sign something I had to go through someone else to get it done! We had an NSE meeting finally so we could get some more information about the island and all the happenings of the next few days, and we did ice breakers in the beginning, but honestly, at this point it felt like looking around the room I was friends with everyone already and knew at least a thing or two about each of them. We’ve got a good group -- we want to meet some more locals, but honestly even though everyone says that all the people here are friendly, we’ve experienced some stand offishness from many of the local students on campus, so its comforting to at least have each other for now. We went to the beach around 4, I think, and some kids went snorkling and saw turltes and sting rays and lots of other fish, right in Brewers Bay! This is the beach we can walk to in a few minutes, so it’s nice to know we can always go here and get good snorkling! By the end of this day, I was exhausted, and got to do some more unpacking and organizational stuff that I hadn’t had a chance for before. Then, I went to bed. I felt tired, warmed by the sun, and overwhelmingly content. 

fri. aug 16:

We had another early morning today as we were catching some safaris at 9 am on a university led island tour. Of course, on island time this meant not a soul was there at 9 am but rather everyone finally strolled in at 9:30, so we left then. Everyone at home talks about island time as if it’s relaxing, however honestly a few of us if not most are finding it kind of irritating and hard to plan around. If you come here, you’ve got to got to got to got to let that go and prepare yourself to play things by ear and go with the flow. On our island tour we saw the most amazing views - from a skyline view to another beach called Coki, to the top of the mountain, we were all saying “whoa” more times than can be counted. I went on a bus that had more locals than NSE students, so I got to learn so much from them including things like eating this fruit off a tree we passed, to the fact that half the island used to be a beach. We got home from this around 1pm, the earliest we’d been released all week, so we decided to again go down to Brewers Bay for some beach time. We were there for about 6 hours, from swimming to snorkling to laying out and walking around, we never got bored. We all decided to stay until sunset (which happens extremely early here to our disdain at a cool 6:45), and the sky put on a beautiful show for us. Everything is so beautiful that it looks like a post card. After this we showered and headed to a movie night held by the university and ate hamburgers there, and relaxed at the rec center for a while playing pool and dominos. Then, one of our friends roommate who is a friendly local took us out to show us this cool lookout where you could see stars, the entire university, the beach, and even some heat lightening (which the local said wasn’t heat lightening, but I think it must have been and they just don’t call it that). We threw together a plan to go to another island, St. John, and then went to bed to rest up for it. It was another night going to bed feeling so de-stressed and happy. 

sat. aug 17:

We’ve finally caught up with today! Going to St. John was unreal. We caught the 11 o’clock fast ferry out in Red Hook - the city part of town, which you have to take a safari or taxi to get to. As a side note, safaris are our - and I think everyone’s - preferred method of transportation because it is so much cheaper and honestly a better experience. Safaris are $1 if you remain on the west side (I think) of the island in the “country”, and $2 once you drive over the incredibly steep Rapoon Hill that brings you into the “city”. Then, we caught the local price of the ferry at only $12 roundtrip, and we were on our way! When we got there, there were many taxi drivers coming up to those coming off the ferry asking if we needed rides, so we got one very quickly and he helped us get to a beach that he thought was beautiful, fun, and what we were looking for. I don’t think I know what it was called, but it was exactly what he described! The water is the most amazing blue you’ve ever seen, and it simply has not worn off yet the beauty of everything that I’ve been surrounded and swallowed up into. We swam here and hung out all day. A while later, our taxi driver came to retrieve us, and brought us back into town. We all got some fries at a place called Tap and Still, due to the fact that we hadn’t eaten since 8:30 am and it was now around 4, and they were some of the absolute best I’ve ever had. Either that, or I was just insanely hungry. The ferry ride back was all of 14 minutes, and then we got another 45 minute safari back to campus. They stop running around 6:30/7pm (again, you don’t really know because of island time), so we wanted to come back in order to catch one in time. During the ride, it started down pouring, and because of how fast we were going rain was coming in through the windows slightly in the front bench and near the sides, so those of us that were sitting there got a bit soaked and then were freezing because of how cold it was! Never thought I’d be cold here, coming from Mass, but today I was definitely proved wrong. Then we got dinner, showered, and we’ve been in bed since. As has been the theme of this week, now I feel extremely tired, but over the moon happy and excited and mind blown and thankful that I will be spending my next four months in this place, with these people. 

[amarabliss]

Eia Au, Eia ‘Oe ~ Here I am, here you are - 14 (Steve McGarrett/Twin Sister & Danny Williams/Reader)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six* Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Elven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

*Contains music you must listen to, to better set the mood…Trust me…

Danny sat at his desk absently typing up an old report. His head wasn’t focused on it, hell his head wasn’t even in this office…

No it was back at the conversation he’d had a week prior with you over a video call. You’d managed to get an email to him that read: Get to a computer, video call me at this link. Everything is okay, I promise.

Needless to say it was not really okay.

“Babe?” He stared at your face through the screen reaching out touching the bruises on your face, “Wh-where are you? What happened?”

You smiled at him, “Danny…I can’t say much…”

“Is this your brother? He’s done somethin’ again hasn’t he? Taken you with him to go after Wo Fat or somethin’…” He rattled off quickly worry filling his chest.

“No, Danny, it wasn’t Steve.” You shook your head shifting in your seating looking off screen, “Danny, I don’t have a whole lot of time.”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Danny frowned watching your rub your face, “Babe, your scaring me a little…”

“I’m sorry…” You sighed looking at him, “I got pulled back in…it’s something important…and Steve is going to be here to help me finish it.”

“Okay, but…um…” He swallowed as he tried to remain calm, “What-uh…what about your treatment? You have an appointment this week, you’ll be back right?”

You looked away from again frowning only making his heart sink, “No…I won’t be at that one…”

“Well…ho-how long is this going to take?” He leaned forward as if would help him get closer to you somehow.

You looked back at the screen, “I’m hoping it will only take two weeks…if things go well…”

“And if they don’t?” Danny sat there in the silence that followed waiting, “Y/N…”

“I don’t know, Danny… I don’t know.” You wiped your cheek and sniffed. Damn this screen…it was only then he realized you had been crying, “I’m just trying not to become this person that I need to be…and I don’t…I don’t know if I can be strong enough for this.”

The rest of the conversation was both of you reassuring one another that everything was going to be okay. Something he was sure didn’t reassure either of you. He was worried sick. Even more now then he’d been when he thought you and Steve had been kidnapped.

Kidnappers he can deal with, terrorist…well that’s a little above his paygrade. Dealing with your mother was also out of his depth, but he managed to settle Doris down. Or at least he thought he did. Either way he half joked that if she found out where the twins were that he’d buy the tickets to bring them home.

He found himself staring out the window just silently hoping? Praying? Anything…that you’d give him another note or call to let him know you were okay. He didn’t like this absent feeling he felt, especially when he knew you were being put into a position that was dangerous and uncomfortable.

But he also knew that you were with Steve and that gave him some solace. The pair of you took care of each other. You’d traveled the world to save him once, you both had a ‘spidey sense’ about one another, and he knew that you’d both die for one another.

He sighed looking back to his report saving it before Kono walked in, “Danny we got a case.”

“Finally…” He whispered as he stood up following her out.

“Any new news?” She asked him as they walked to the main computer where Chin was.

“No.” He shook his head slowly, “They are off grid until they reach out.”

“Any news from Doris?” Chin crossed his arms.

Danny smiled a little, “No…no not yet, and to be honest I’m not sure she will actually tell me. Our relationships is…on thin ice.”

“Well you are dating her daughter.” Chin pointed out.

“Who could kill me with a spoon six different ways. What’s your point?” Danny told him with a huff, “No, I just don’t trust her…and she keeps lying to Y/N and Steve…I just don’t want her to hurt them anymore. Enough of this…what’s the case?”

“I told you to stay in the car!” Steve shouted into the radio as he landed on another roof in pursuit of their target.

“Quit your bitchin and head north!” He heard your voice chirp back in the ear piece. He pivoted quickly on the roof seeing Sharif leap off the next one. Glancing down to the street he saw you briefly before you ducked around a corner.

The exchange did not go as planned. Whalid had in fact gotten spooked, which then made Sharif get spooked. This of course led to a shoot out, which presented Steve with what was in front of him. Chasing a man across broken roof tops while you pursued on foot on the ground.

“I’m losing him!” Steve spoke into his wrist as he continued running forward.

“On it.” Steve watched as Sharif skidded to a halt as gunfire rang out into the city toward him. He turned his direction giving Steve the ability to catch up.

“He’s turned west, heading toward the bazaar.” Steve reported.

“Tree be ready with extraction.”

“Copy that, moving to position at the circle.”

“Copy that, Steve?”

“ETA two minutes.” Steve smirked a little. He wished all his ops ran this smooth. There was something about working with you the last week that made everything fall into place. Even when things went south you had already thought of the solution giving your team the advantage.

Steve wondered what life would have been like had you been part of his SEAL team. Certainly, things would have gone a lot smoother on several missions. His unit definitely wouldn’t have as many scars, or as many loses.

Steve raised his gun as Sharif skidded to a halt at the edge of a roof that led him nowhere, “Put your hands up!”

The man turned looking at him as Steve walked up slowly. The last second he bolted heading south trying for the other roof that wasn’t much closer.  As he reached the ledged he stopped short seeing you on the other roof holding a gun toward him.

“Down on the ground!” You shouted at him, Steve noticed the sweat pouring from your pale form. You’d pushed yourself too much.

He cursed to himself as Sharif got to his knees speaking profanities toward you in several different languages, “You alright?”

“I will be.” You didn’t take your eyes off of Sharif as he spat at you, “Keep spittin’ I’m already dead.”

“You will suffer before I die.” Sharif hissed at you as Steve hoisted him up to his feet.

You eyed him as you radioed in for the boys to come help. They showed up quickly cleaning up the area making like you were never here. Steve got into the SUV and looked at you feeling something in his gut, “Hey…”

You looked at him locking eyes, there it was. The same feeling he had, “Something isn’t right.”

He nodded slowly keeping his head on a swivel. He knew you were talking about the plan, but he was thinking about your health, “I know…that plan should have worked.”

Your voice became hushed as you leaned over to him, “Someone had to have gotten to Whalid...before the meeting…”

Steve nodded glancing around the SUV at the other’s. Tree was driving and Leo sat next to him directing as Steve nodded his head toward them, “Do you think…”

You frowned looking at the two in the front, “We’re good here…I trust them.”

“But…” Steve whispered glancing back at the other two SUVs.

You swallowed thinking for a moment, “Hey Leo…”

“Yeah boss?” He smiled back at you. Everyone either called you boss or Prince showing a clear bond of loyalty to you. Steve started to think on that as the thought occurred to him.

“Tablet please.” You reached forward taking it from him when he pulled it off the cradle.

“Something the matter?” Tree glanced back in the mirror.

“Just…following our guts.” Steve told him, “Hopefully it’s nothing.”

“In my experience with a McGarrett…if they got a gut feeling, it’s usually right.” Tree smirked a little, “You gonna let us in on the secret?”

“I think we were set up.” You told him as you started to swipe through a file. You put a hand to your forehead wincing as you stared at the screen.

Steve frowned before he reached into a pouch pulling out canteen, “Y/N…”

You looked up seeing the canteen sighing, “Steve…”

“Drink the goddamn water, Prince.” Steve smirked when Tree barked at you. You rolled your eyes taking the water taking a big drink.

“There, happy?” You gave it back to your brother as you went back to the tablet.

Everyone had been informed of your health status. Steve was surprised that the whole unit rallied behind the doctor in making sure you were comfortable and cared for. When you got sick during one of the briefings, despite you insisting everything was fine, they stopped and made sure you were actually okay.

“I will be happy when Tibbs checks you over on our ride outta here.” Tree told you smiling as he heard you scowl, “Now, now none of that. We just want our favorite guardian on the mend. Now what’s this being set up business?”

“I’m not sure…Steve, do you still have the SAT phone?” You watched as he nodded leaning forward to the same bag as before pulling out the phone. You took it dialing quickly putting it to your ear.

Steve made a face, “Who are you calling?”

You held up a finger silencing him as the line clicked on, “Catherine…I need a favor. I’m sending over a few files, I need them cross checked with…well everything. We think we’ve been had…”

Steve smiled a little as you wrapped up the conversation, “You called Catherine…”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t think that this means I like her…I still don’t, but she is good at her job. You should never trust people in Intel. They’ll know too much.”

“ETA to exfil 20 minutes.” Tree glanced back at you again, “Is this the same Catherine you got into it with?”

“’Got into it with’?” Steve’s eyes widened.

“Thanks…Tree….” You sighed making a face, “There are somethings Steve that you’re never going to know…this is one of them.”

[jeanhm]

Gorgeous Gorges and Magnificent Mountains

Today has been a driving experience around the northern part of Montenegro. When we went kayaking last week the chap we rented from said we ought to go north of Podgorica and through the Moraca Gorge so we worked out a round trip which took us not only through that gorge but many others. However, unlike gorges I've been through in UK where the roads tend to follow the bottom of the gorge, not so here. roads wind their way up the mountains in a series of hairpins away from the rivers so you truly look down into a deep canyon. meanwhile you are surrounded by sharp jagged mountains in all directions.

The roads are not only winding but through many, many tunnels, some properly lined and built, some almost just holes blasted in the rock which look far less safe and everywhere there are pine trees and granite outcrops. The area we were headed to took us north initially up through the Moraca Gorge to Kolasin then north to Mojkovac before we turned north west then west following the river Tapa until we reached Zabljak. The gorge followng the Tara river (leading off the Moraca) to Mojkovac is the deepest in Europe and second deepest in the world behind the Grand Canyon and you can tell its deep even though you are driving a long way above it looking down. You managed glimpes of the river at times of the bends but there were few places to stop and the roads were narrow with some pretty dodgy driving from some folk. At times todays journey took us high enough above sea level for our ears to pop with Zabljak being 1465m itself and with 48 mountain peaks within the "Durmitor Ring" being over 2000m asl.

At Zabljak we headed into the Durmitor National park and to the Black Lake where we had dinner in the small restaurant by the lake. We had lake trout and potato which was wonderfully fresh. We had to walk from the carpark to the lake through the pine forest which was a refreshing change as the temperature in this area was a mere 27 degrees, feeling almost cold!

The area around Zabljak is almost plateau like with a ring of mountains around and this is the centre of the Montenegro ski industry so loads of wonderfully pointed little chalets and hotels and an area where there is a lot of new construction as I guess this is a growing industry for the country. After dinner and our walk through the national park to the lake and back we started to head back south, initially through the plateau like grasslands and then down some more bendy twisty roads. None of the them were quite as bad as the Serpentine road of yesterday but still some amazing hairpins. At one stage we found ourselves surrounded by what appeared to be a French Peugot 205 rally several of which managed to break down on the sharp and steep uphill roads! We did pass another few lakes and rivers and smaller gorges but none to compare to the mornings views. Still it was a long day of driving but with fantastic views when at times you really were almost on top of the world. Its just such a shame that the tourism industry hasn't realised that people want stops to take photos and the routes really aren't yet geared up for tourists with very few cafes or stopping places. Again, an area for this country to develop. Lots of photos to come.

[weshipyourride]

SBT TRVL Blue Recap

The town of Steamboat Springs is nestled in the mountains of Northern Colorado’s Yampa Valley and is known for its year-round outdoor activities including skiing, boating, hiking and biking, to name a few. To showcase the area as a premier location for gravel riding, the folks at SBT GRVL expanded their event portfolio to include an exclusive experience called SBT TRVL Blue. Four days of scheduled rides, luxury lodging and catered food created all the fun of a long weekend at SBT GRVL without the racing and large crowds. 

As the official bike shipping provider, BikeFlights was invited to attend this first-year event, ride “champagne gravel” and directly connect with riders.

Photo by Linda Guerette

With registration intentionally limited, SBT TRVL Blue brought 25 riders together from across the country between June 9-12, 2022 to experience the finer side of gravel riding. A few professional cyclists were there, too, including Lauren Hall, Alex Howes and Kiel Reijnen. Each day’s route took riders to different areas of Routt County.  

Day 1: Hayden

Twenty-five miles west of Steamboat Springs is the even smaller town of Hayden, where the first day’s ride began. After a quick breakfast, the group shuttled to Wild Goose Coffee to caffeinate and leave for the day’s 66-mile route. This ride featured several sections from the SBT GRVL Black course such as Trout Creek and Cow Creek and ascended and descended the rolling valley hills en route back to Steamboat Springs. 

After returning to One Steamboat Place, the group refueled and refreshed before heading to Moots Bicycles for a factory tour. Upon arrival, we were greeted by Brent, Moots’ owner and Nate, Moots’ general manager. From there we learned where and how Moots Bicycles transform from raw titanium tubes to works of ridable art. 

Photo by Chris Lyman

Day 2: Rabbit Ears

If you drive into Steamboat Springs from the Front Range, you’ll likely travel along US Highway 40 across Rabbit Ears Pass before dropping into town. This day’s 76-mile route started atop the pass and descended, mostly, through Buffalo Park and National Forest land to Lynx Pass and Stagecoach Reservoir and eventually back to Steamboat Springs. The endless mountain views and B-roads provided picturesque scenes for nearly every mile.   

Photo by Linda Guerette

Day 3: Moots Ranch Rally

Partnering with Moots, SBT TRVL took on the world-renowned Ranch Rally. This year’s Rally used the gravel roads right outside the Moots factory doors, the same roads and mountain views that have inspired their bikes for more than 40 years. Two courses were offered: The Full Bull 76-mile route and The Wrangler 54-mile route, which were both almost 100% gravel and included two competitive timed segments.

Moots Ambassador and NBA Hall of Famer, Reggie Miller, was in attendance to help usher in riders and accept a donation from Moots to help Historically Black University’s building its presence in the cycling community. Moots also made a donation to the local Ag Alliance to preserve local ranches.

Day 4: The 14s

The final day showed us the roads that local riders get to pedal every day of the week. Known as “the 14s,” the unmaintained Routt county roads weave south and connect ranches back to town. A 27-mile route featured mostly gravel and even crossed over the famous James Brown Soul Center of the Universe Bridge. It was a perfect shake-out ride of rolling hills to loosen the leg muscles before guests departed for home. 

Photo by Linda Guerette

When reflecting on the weekend and remembering the views, the rides, the comradery, the accommodations and everything in between, we are excited to have been part of it. Steamboat Springs is an incredible place, and the crew at SBT GRVL has proved that it is as much of a summer destination as it is a winter one. We look forward to returning in August for the main event. 

Photo by Linda Guerette

Photo by Linda Guerette

Moots Bicycles Factory Tour

Photo by Amy Charity

Photo by Chris Lyman

Photo by Micah Rice

[thydungeon]

“Break”

In the fall of 2018, Stoic Studio held a short story fan fiction contest because they were publishing a compilation for The Banner Saga.

I really loved this game, but for whatever reason I didn’t play the second and third games until a week-long stretch in 2018 when Emily was out of the country. I stayed up until 5 am to finish the third game!

But then I saw the contest and I thought, “oh my god, this is perfect!” 

They didn’t pick my story, and I have never been sadder about any personal creation of mine. I spent a lot of time on the story and had a lot of help editing from Russell and Emily, overcoming elements of some fairly old-timey fears. Obviously, the hard truth is that I’m not that good of a writer, but I struggled for a long time with whether or not to really regret a series of design decisions. That is, I wrote the story that I wanted to, the way I wanted to, but I wonder if the following needed to be true:

Why did I write a story that features only varl and literally no humans (read: no women)? Why did I write a story that covers the scope of only violence, something I’ve never been comfortable writing? Why did I write a story with only original characters, so out of the way of the games? Why did I make the first 270 words in the style of an emotionless recounting of strategic and tactical failures? Why did I develop only one character, with essentially no emotional arc?

Regardless, I do like the piece. I think I wrote it reasonably well given the above handicaps (that, again, I chose because I wanted them). And now, reading it two years later, it’s pretty clear it’s “about” switching roles at my old job in the US; the feeling of losing your position and drifting away from people is/was a common theme in a lot of things I’ve written, so go figure lol

#

Since Russell is the only person who ever read this with the full context (having played the games), here are some background details:

1. The game takes place in a Norse/Nordic setting. The antagonist is a Jormungandr figure, all the main characters have Germanic-sounding names, it’s Viking age tech, and the world is snowy. 

2. Varl are like giant human-oxen hybrids; there are only so many of them because each one was literally created by a real, physical god who has since disappeared. Hence, the number of varl will never increase, only decrease (this doesn’t appear to have any kind of Krogan Effect, in case you’re wondering). The process of creation is apparently quite unpleasant and is one of the reasons they fear (and I mean really fear) fire. They share the world with humans, but generally do not intermingle.

3. Dredge are rock-like humanoids who communicate with vibrations and live underground. They fought a tremendous war (the “Second Great War”) against a combined human-varl alliance. Certain dredge who are very powerful are called Sundr and have English names that reference an attribute (canon Sundr include “Bellower” and “Raze”). I don’t remember if they are physiologically different from other dredge or just the classic video game “hero” unit.

4. Per the Wiki, “varl who are close knit enough to be family refer to each other as kendr.”

5. This is stretching my memory, but I believe the title is a play on the basic combat mechanic in the game series - your units can choose to attack an opponent’s armor or health. If you attack their health, your attack damage subtracts the opponent’s armor amount before dealing any health damage, but health damage reduces the opponent’s ability to do damage back. Get it? Breaking their armor? The story is about a breakout as well. Also, it wouldn’t be an early period (2015-2018) piece if it wasn’t about burnout, i.e. breaking down.

As for why I never posted this on Tumblr, it’s because, honestly, I thought Tumblr had a character limit on text posts? 

#

Grofheim burns.

The largest city in the north, the varl capital, lies in ruins after an avalanche of dredge like none had seen before. A few weeks earlier, a handful of reports from northern patrols suggested a massing of dredge in the abandoned, half-sunken city of Skrymirstead; further warbands detailed a sturdy garrison increasing in size with each sighting. A dozen leaders forged north with a host of five thousand to meet them but limped home a mess of several hundred. Survivors spoke of organized dredge armies moving like appendages of the Sundr. Concentrated force separated our army amid a blizzard and obliterated them.

Eager to see the army for ourselves, we awaited their arrival at the city's gate facing the Valkajokull. To our surprise, the dredge struck first from the south, having passed between the Varlsmarch and King’s Barrow hills, and only then advanced from Skrymirstead, placing a hammer against an anvil with Grofheim in between. In the days of old, we expected battles like these to slow to the crawl of a months-long siege, but this generation of dredge attacked with unique urgency. We saw Sundr everywhere: Driver, Rampage, Dread, others we remembered from ages past. The walls collapsed on the eighth day of battle, and dredge poured into the city. After only two weeks of fighting within the walls, their advance was nigh-unstoppable, and we had lost entire sectors of the city, guard towers and homes alike reduced to rubble. By the end of the third week, our encirclement was almost complete and only slivers of light in an ocean of dredge gave us hope for survival.

#

Shortly after the dredge breached the city walls, Jorundr and many of the remaining varl had rallied to a fortress in the center of the city. Harald, captain of the city patrols, and I, his right-hand man, joined them with a fraction of the varl we had led previously for years; all others had fallen either at the wall or in the ensuing crush. At the top of one of the fortress towers, we pored over a map resting on a rickety table. Wooden figurines shaped like varl and dredge littered the map’s surface. We used to play chess with the little pieces.

Light filtered into the spacious room from all sides, but it illuminated nothing of renown. A couple of spears leaned against the wall, and a handful of varl were resting, drinking water and munching on dwindling provisions. We looked a sorry lot, even more bruised and unwashed than the typical varl cohort. Harald could no longer grip his shield due to a mangled left arm, so we fastened them together, hoping the banded wood would hold. Fiery debris had caught me at the wall, covering my face in cuts. Outside, we could see the dredge burning heaps of fallen varl, challenging us to come out and avenge our dead.

I ran my finger across the map from our location to one of the gates. A few hours’ march stood between us and the world beyond the city walls. “We have less than five days holding out here. By that point, we’ll be surrounded, and they’ll start breaking us apart group by group. The fortress will hold for maybe two more days after that. What’s the plan, Harald?” I lifted my finger from the map and found myself biting the nail of my thumb unconsciously. The sharp taste of iron-flavored blood crusted underneath snapped me back into the moment.

Harald moved a pair of dredge pieces between us and the gate. “From what we gather, the dredge that breached the southern gate destroyed everything from Skyhorn west through the Varlsmarch, but they are now less than full strength.” He moved several other pieces above us on the map. “Jorundr did not move any troops from the northern wall to fend off the surprise attack in the south, so the dredge advance from Skrymirstead was not a total disaster. Still, that group is reportedly much larger, so a breakout that way is not possible.”

“Eamonn and his whole clan stayed at the western tower,” I said, pointing to an ornately decorated tower on the map. “Heard a rumor that Roland and his folks battled back to the wall, actually. Either group is probably a heap of bones by now, though.” Looking over the map, I realized that every painstaking detail on it had been rendered worthless by the dredge.

“I do not blame them,” said Harald. “From all of our experience, dredge grant no quarter, and some varl may be looking for revenge after hearing what happened in the blizzard.”

“I heard it might have been an accident,” said Ismail, one of the younger guards and a fixture of Harald’s patrols. “The leaders out in the wastes forgot to put out a watch as they slept, and the dredge caught them unawares, daylight and all.”

“With dredge, there is no such thing as an accident,” said Harald. “Whatever happened out there does not bode well for us here.” His eyes dimmed and I could see the truth beginning to settle.

“I know Jorundr’s been quiet about where the dredge are coming from, but what have you heard?” I asked. “Did some idiot kick over a hornet’s nest?”

“We only saw the dredge near Skrymirstead and nobody saw them coming from the east,” replied Harald. “It is no coincidence; something is driving them, and it must be more than memories of the second war.”

“We have a dozen ideas what it might be, but nothing with real evidence,” added Ismail. “Jorundr has been tight-lipped about it, but I think it’s because he doesn’t actually know. I’ve heard everything from new leadership among the dredge, a misunderstanding at the border, to some faening scheme by the Valka.”

“No need to gossip on my account, just curious,” I said, turning back to the map. “What’s left for us here?”

“It all depends on how many dredge are out there and if you want to be hopeful,” said Ismail. “Me, personally...I would rather not.”

“The southern walls have been entirely leveled, but that may work to our advantage,” said Harald. “If we can cut a path through the dredge between here and there, we can escape with no bottleneck to hinder our advance. But numbers are not on our side.”

“It’s always possible there is relief on the way, maybe runners found their way to pockets of varl beyond the city,” suggested Ismail. “Can’t change how many dredge are here, but it helps if there are more of us.”

“Now look who’s being optimistic,” I grumbled. “If they got past the forts without any trouble, then that means we’re the only varl for days in any direction. From here, we’ll have to write our own stories.”

“So then getting away is our only real choice,” said Ismail.

“If we all make a break that way to the south, they will pursue,” I said, moving varl pieces down the map and dredge pieces in pursuit. “And we won’t make three days out of Grofheim before they catch us. Some of us must split off to hold or divert them. If not, we’re faened as soon we’re free of the city. The only question is how many and where we put them.”

Harald knew this but remained quiet. He had a way of settling his gaze into an intensity that bordered almost on horror. I never thought to say anything about it after years and years, but over time I understood it as his way of focusing. We all knew that the number of varl who escaped Grofheim would be however many would fight the rest of the war. Vognir’s entourage, the varl in Strand, and any others scattered across the mountains would not be guaranteed to join in time, if ever.

“We estimate there are four thousand of us remaining in the city that can be readied to evacuate at once,” began Harald. “A tenth of that number should be the maximum committed to a diversion.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough?” Ismail asked. My instinct was that we needed a thousand, but I always used more force than necessary to get the job done. Either way, I was happy to let Harald make the assessment. He was always better with strategy.

“We need to make sure we have a force worth carrying into human lands,” said Harald. “We do not know what Jorundr has planned long-term, but we have to give him the best chance to... win.” He almost said ‘survive.’

“Fair enough, then. We hardly ever know what’s on his mind, but that’s never stopped us before. Who’s going?” I asked. Around the room, everybody stopped and looked at me and Harald like awaiting a death sentence. Varl lead long lives, but we are seldom fearless as we pretend before the moment of truth. It is the best trick we play on humans.

Harald looked at me and lowered the shield still wrapped around his arm. For the first time, I noticed the streaks of grey among black in his hair and beard, the weariness in his posture, the chips in his horns, and his tired, deep eyes. His teal tunic rested on top of bandage after bandage; it was caked with blood and pockmarked with cuts and tears.

“As good a time to go as any, right?” I joked to the room. No one said anything.

“Could you give us a minute?” Harald said to the others in the room. They quietly filed out. “I’m sorry to have announced it in front of the others, but at this point, I may be a liability with this,” continued Harald, gesturing to his arm and shield. “I trust you to handle this task. It may be the most important of our lives.”

“Harald, I understand,” I replied, smiling through. “I’ll take the remaining guards we have and hunt for volunteers. Do you need to speak to the other clans to set the plan in stone? Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers before we get rolling.”

“I did before I came up here,” said Harald, smiling back. I started to leave but turned back at the door.

“Harald...are we really leaving Grofheim?”

It was a ridiculous question, but it nagged me, and I needed to hear him to make it real: to leave our home, to abandon it to destruction. I was loath to leave everything behind forever: my home, our monuments, the legacy of centuries of varl.

“There is no other way,” replied Harald. “If we were going to stop them, it would have been before they reached the city.”

“We were so sure we would beat them in Skrymirstead and, failing that, here at the walls. What went wrong? The second war took years and years, we were there.”

Harald shrugged. I knew it was futile to ask, but I had become so used to him having an answer. “We will find out once we... regroup.”

I slung a hammer high on my shoulder. “Nothing to do, then. I’ll get your four hundred in the next two hours. In the meantime, I look forward to your plan for our friend down there.” I gestured to the window, where far below at the head of the black sea was a tall dredge dressed in red robes, holding a glaive in each hand. The varl in his vicinity either stood dazed in his presence or routed in cowardice. Harald peered below at the Sundr and I could feel the stress rising in him.

“This is it, this is how it happens,” he muttered, still facing down below. I never knew if he meant for me to hear it.

#

    I went to my makeshift quarters to pick up any remaining equipment. Sitting down on the bed, I dusted off my clothes and shook off stiff boots. The beautiful release of sleep had only found me once in seven days and I longed to just rest for a moment.

After floating down the river of a dream, I opened my eyes and sat up. As I slowly remembered the broken state of my body, I felt my left horn, jagged from days of shrapnel and glancing blows. I traced a line from the tip down to a matrix of scabs dotting everything from my left eye down to my right jaw.

It was time to take stock of everything before our final rush to the city walls. My boots were finally dry after a week trudging through snow; my armor had hardly any straps left to tighten, but I kept reinforcing it with bits and pieces of metal I scavenged; daggers and knives picked up along the way found homes in my belt. I still held onto a hammer I had picked up on the fourth day of fighting. The head had delicate twists and turns carved throughout, and the rune-covered haft was smooth from centuries of use. It sang every time it stung rock and crushed everything it touched.

Down in the courtyard, my remaining guards stood at attention, tired and injured but still eager to make their mark. Another couple hundred from across the city stood nearby, joining. I felt good knowing I would run with so many familiar faces, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of leading them all to a shallow grave.

Nevertheless, we moved over to one of the few gates in the area free of dredge; this exit was where we would perform our illusion. The dredge knew we were cornered and they would be expecting a breakout and a sacrificial diversion. The switch was simple: the initial attack would in fact be the vanguard making the escape. The diversionary force would be disguised as trying to escape, conspicuously filtering out from the side. Some of the worst mistakes we made during the second war had come from believing our enemies were incapable of strategy. Our lives now hinged on whether we had learned the lesson.

Harald emerged from inside the fort, shield still locked to his arm, spear resting on his shoulder. He had patched up the remaining cuts and bruises on his body and looked ready for battle (or as ready as he would ever be). Beyond the gate, we could see figures in the distance, working their way through houses.

“Where are we meeting you when this is all over?” I asked, forcing optimism to my voice.

“The old capital, across Burra Pass,” replied Harald. “A week away if we make haste. Once we break out, Jorundr will send scouts in all directions for help.”

“Look forward to seeing you there,” I said. “Are you ready? Four hundred of yours first, then four hundred of mine.”

“If all goes well, we should have a couple thousand outside the city by the time the dredge realize the game.” Harald gritted his teeth. “Not enough down the line without the menders or humans, but this gives us hope.”

“And the Sundr?”

“You’ll have to take your chances with them,” said Harald, shaking his head. “We cannot use the same tactics as when we had true armies during the wars. We had our hands full even then.”

“Captain, we’re made of flesh and bone.” I slumped while standing for the first time all week. Harald always had an answer, but was this the best he could offer me?

“I know... reports from across the city tell us that every Sundr we can name is here. My gut tells me if you see them, you should just run.”

I forced my face into agreement, but I couldn’t let it go. “How did this happen?”

Harald blinked and his mouth settled into a frown. “We will have more time to ask questions in Einartoft. For now, we just have to escape.”

His tone was final. He seemed prepared for, even unbothered by, our impending departure. Was this all he had to say after spending a hundred years together? Did it not trouble him that those years were spent defending a city now burning to the ground? But I looked into his unmoving eyes and realized my irritation was only immaturity. He knew every bit as much as I did that the world we had built was being undone. We had been colored and shaped by a duty to our home, a duty that we had chosen, a duty that was now sunsetting. Perhaps that spoke enough for both of us.

I felt the questions inside me slowly trickle to a halt. I stared at him, trying to force myself to remember the look of his calm, unshaken face. I could see the determination, the readiness to face our final hours. Varl are seldom fearless as we pretend before the moment of truth. It is the best trick we play on humans, but, finally, this was no trick. I realized I had been staring at him for perhaps a whole minute.

Thus ended my last interaction with Harald in Grofheim. I have a painting of him in my memory of that last scene before I turned to leave. It was in that moment that I knew Grofheim was gone.

#

The first gate opened and Harald’s four hundred varl rushed out. They pushed away from the gate, plowing through an initial wall of dredge. Once they cleared the first group, I could see a few grunts begin to give chase before the Sundr called them back to the fortress. We then clattered our way out through the side entrance. As expected, the wave of dredge charged in our direction, a contingent ten times our size, howling and humming as they slammed into us.

I swung wildly and tossed aside a dredge grunt. Another swing, another grunt. A third swing buried my hammer into the shield of a stoneguard, but a timely blow from a guardsman freed it again. With simultaneous strikes, we felled the stoneguard and pushed onward. As we nearly broke free of the circle, I could see the lone dredge from before, taller than any of us and shrouded in crimson robes: Dread. It planted both of its glaives into the ground and began shaking violently. We had heard stories of its powers, and I was hesitant to witness them firsthand. But then, I thought, if I could do it, perhaps end the battle immediately and save the lives of those around me--and slay a dredge legend... Stonesingers can be interrupted, one heavy strike would work.

As I neared, I swung back my hammer, twisted my hips, and stretched to meet him, hammer to Sundr. But before I could make contact, a vibration knocked me onto my back and everything around me disappeared.

I found myself floating in calm darkness for a moment before a great wall of flame surrounded me and began to close in. Memories of creation flooded my mind as the flames licked my clothes, but this was different, a perversion. The wall came closer and closer until every part of me was engulfed in flames. Links of chainmail resting on my skin branded themselves into flesh, while the skin itself peeled away and the nerve endings frayed into nothingness. An eternity passed. I saw my skeleton blackening in the deepest fires of the universe, and when the last bone disappeared into ashes, I felt suspended in nothingness. My voice was gone and the only thing I could feel was my mind trying to claw its way back to something tangible.

The hollowness subsided, and I found myself in the physical world, staring up at a sky of clouds and sun blurred together. The world was eerily quiet for that moment. The loud clanging and screams of battle gave way to dull thuds like the sound at a butcher’s. I looked back at Dread and saw it walking away with one glaive resting on a shoulder, the other at its side. It seemed so calm and pleased with its work, not even giving me a second glance.

As my senses sharpened, I saw peril everywhere. My companions were in the state of illusion that had captured me, now lying on the ground with vacant eyes while dredge bludgeoned them to death. I turned and saw one varl after another dying, eyes locked in a gaze into nothingness, not reacting to hammers crushing bone and rupturing viscera and muscle. We existed only like wheat waiting for the scythe. We weren’t even fighting. We weren’t anything.

The feeling of a weapon bearing down on me finally snapped me into action. I could almost see surprise in the grunt’s eyes as I batted away its strike. One swing from my hammer shattered its stone armor and a follow-up caved in its chest. As the light faded from its eyes, I took satisfaction in ensuring its final emotion was shock.

I turned and crushed another dredge, hammerhead vibrating from the point of contact down to my trembling hands. Rage boiled within me and I was ready to charge at Dread, ready to even the score. But my tunnel vision subsided and I realized the true danger to our mission. The Sundr was already leaving and there were plenty of other dredge to handle. The glory of battling a Sundr beckoned, but I knew I owed it to those around me to struggle a different way. I had to escape.

The situation was collapsing. The longer we lingered, the more enemies swarmed to fence us in. Before Dread arrived, we had been close to breaking free and dispersing, but now, we found ourselves surrounded. Neither vigor nor ferocity would save us. I spotted a solitary varl, covered in cuts and missing an arm, waving a red banner, trying to rally us to an alleyway. This was enough of a plan to survive: no glorious final stand, no victory of arms. Along with a few others snapped out of Dread’s illusion, I followed the banner and we began hacking through the crowd of dredge. The already injured varl was cut down as I arrived, but the rest of us barreled down the alleyway as the buildings on both sides began to collapse, supports chewed away by fire. I hated the thought of deserting those I led into the fray, but I decided I would see Harald again; I owed it to my kendr.

By the time we cleared the alley, only a couple dozen of us remained. I could still hear fighting from the other side of the rubble and the awful warping noise of Dread’s glaives. Thoughts of fire continued to race around in my head, but I was able to quell the fear. With the Sundr and its dredge on the other side of the fallen buildings, I assessed our state. So much for our plan: the diversion scattered and smeared into the streets. I could only hope Harald and the others had made their escape. I rallied those with me, a few brothers in arms for years, other newly made friends, mostly strangers in a dire situation, and we started moving toward the city gate to escape. At least there were no other Sundr in the vicinity, and the dredge we did see were not very interested in fighting us, some even running away on our approach. After we felt a safe distance from the violence, we rested in an empty temple dedicated to Hadrborg. It had already been in disrepair by the time the dredge attacked, but I felt the sadness of leaving behind yet another place that harkened to a golden age: lost glory, faded away.

“Where now?” asked Ismail. In the chaos of the breakout, I hadn’t realized he was with us. In fact, I was so sure he escaped with Harald. Selfishly, I was glad to have his shield and spear, but I also wished he were far away and safe.

“It’s another hour to the gate,” I replied. “We’ll need to run. There’s nothing left here for us.”

“Do you think Jorundr and the others escaped? Harald?”

“We can ask questions in Einartoft.” I don’t know how much I believed it now that I was peddling Harald’s words.

As we advanced toward the gate, we got an eerie feeling. The only sounds we could hear were the far-off city buildings crumbling in flames. There was no fighting. Was every other varl in the city already dead? Had the dredge caught Harald and ended all hope? In the long stretch between the final row of houses and the city gate, we saw a crowd of dredge gathered. It was small enough for us to directly engage but large enough that I knew most of us would not survive. And yet, beyond the dredge was a field of corpses, mostly dredge, and only a handful of varl--Harald and the others had broken through!

I exchanged glances with my surviving varl. This was no time for subtlety, and we were in no mood for anything of the sort so close to freedom. We charged.

In the ensuing chaos, I swung my hammer with the feeling that I was gliding into the end of days, with no caution left to spare. With swing after swing, I felt the vibration and resistance resonate throughout my body.

Chance blows may have broken a rib or two, but I felt immersed in my own world. By the time I stopped feeling the weight of the hammerhead against stone, I looked around and realized that I was entirely alone for the first time. Everybody was dead. I never saw Ismail go, or Stefan, or Jorgen, or Thorvald. We had so long to live and I had missed the opportunity to say good-bye all the same. We can ask questions in Einartoft. My final, anti-climactic words to them. The final event of my life in Grofheim. Over in minutes.

Looking up, I saw that the way out was laid bare. Slowly, I realized the only thing left was for me to leave. The gate loomed over me, silent. It struck me as a cruel joke that everything around it had been obliterated, but the gate itself was left unscathed. I had defended it after all.

Not a moment after I took my first step into the snow a mace swung down at me. My forearm flung up by reflex and I felt muscles bruise and bones crack. I stumbled backward and fell into the snow onto my knees. I looked up and saw a lone grunt before me and another figure in the distance. My hands reached furiously in the cold white, reaching and reaching before I saw I had dropped the hammer behind the grunt.

I inched away from the grunt, feeling the desperation and panic of one nearing his end. I could neither find the hammer nor even see it, but I remembered the knives and daggers on my belt and I hurled one at the grunt. A miss. I scrambled for a second knife and didn’t even aim. A thud. A scream, the kind I had heard a hundred times before. The figure in the distance began running toward us, and I rose and charged the grunt. Exhaustion permeated every fiber in my body. Muscle memory drove me to dodge the grunt’s clumsy swings. It was holding onto its side, clutching the embedded knife, as desperate to end the fight as I was. Finally, it committed too far on a downward swing and missed. I held down its mace with my boot and drove my remaining dagger into its face. It crumbled to the ground in a heap without even a whimper. One long exhale later, I gave the grunt’s head a forceful kick, yanking free the blade.

I hastily placed the dagger back into my belt and found my hammer a few steps away. Just as I turned to leave, a whizzing rock smacked one of my horns. I was stunned for a moment. When I recovered, the figure was close enough to see: a smaller dredge with a sling, something I had never seen before. With no shield for defense, I braced for another attack, but it never came. Instead, the dredge dropped the sling and ran to the dead grunt, cradling the body and touching it forehead to forehead, letting out a painful drone.

I knew what I had done. We always knew. Something in me wanted to stay at the gate forever, to die defending something like the grunt had. But I couldn’t bear to look at him and I couldn’t bear to look at her.

#

At last, I was clear of the city. I was alone. As I walked, the hills leading away from the city gave way to a snowy and steep incline. My legs forced me forward, following the trail Harald and the others had made as they fled, but each step up the hill resounded in my head. The ringing in my ears became unbearable. I turned around to look one final time and my heart cracked at the sight of the rising pillars of flame. Years and years walking the streets, patrolling the walls, drinking myself to sleep, growing camaraderie, watching the world go by. How could I forget what I had seen? How could I let it go? What future was waiting for us? But to live--to Einartoft!

[johnalexcooper]

Step Into the Driver's Seat: Top Rally Driving Experiences Await You in the South West

For adrenaline junkies and car enthusiasts alike, rally driving is an unparalleled way to experience the thrill of the open road. South West Wales, with its rugged terrain and breathtaking landscapes, offers the perfect backdrop for rally driving adventures. Whether you're a seasoned driver or a beginner, a Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales is bound to leave you exhilarated and craving for more.

In this blog, we’ll explore the thrilling world of rally driving in this stunning region and give you an idea of what to expect when you step into the driver's seat.

Why Choose South West Wales for Rally Driving?

South West Wales is renowned for its diverse geography, from rolling hills and dense forests to coastal paths and winding country roads. This variety makes the region an ideal setting for rally driving, where unpredictable terrain challenges even the most experienced drivers. The thrill of negotiating gravel tracks, muddy trails, and tight turns through the Welsh countryside is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that few other places can match.

Moreover, South West Wales boasts a rich motorsport history, with several rally events taking place throughout the year. Whether you’re participating or spectating, rally driving in this part of the UK allows you to become part of a legacy that spans decades.

What to Expect from a Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales

A Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales offers far more than just the opportunity to get behind the wheel of a rally car. It's an immersive, high-energy experience designed to test and hone your driving skills, with professional instructors guiding you every step of the way.

1. In-Depth Training

Before you take off onto the dirt tracks, you'll undergo a comprehensive training session. Rally driving is not like your everyday driving; it requires quick reflexes, sharp decision-making skills, and an understanding of how to control the car on different surfaces. During the training, you'll learn about advanced rally driving techniques like handbrake turns, power slides, and maintaining control on loose gravel.

Instructors with years of rally experience will walk you through the basics, ensuring that even beginners feel confident when they take the wheel. For those with some driving experience, the training will focus on more advanced manoeuvres, preparing you for a more challenging drive.

2. Top-Notch Rally Cars

Once you've completed the training, it's time to put your new skills to the test in a purpose-built rally car. These cars are specifically designed for rally driving, with enhanced suspension, powerful engines, and reinforced safety features. Their lightweight frames and high-torque engines ensure you feel every twist and turn on the rugged roads of South West Wales.

The experience of driving a rally car is unlike any other; the roaring engine, responsive handling, and sheer speed provide a sensory overload, pushing both the car and the driver to their limits.

3. Adrenaline-Pumping Tracks

The rally courses in South West Wales are designed to offer the ultimate driving challenge. You’ll find yourself navigating everything from narrow forest trails to open stretches of gravel roads, each with its own set of obstacles and turns. The unpredictable terrain adds to the excitement—one minute you’ll be powering through a muddy forest, the next you’ll be drifting around a gravel bend or speeding across an open field.

The ever-changing scenery also adds to the thrill, with stunning views of the Welsh countryside juxtaposed with the intense focus needed to handle each section of the track. You’ll find yourself fully immersed in the moment, experiencing both the beauty and challenge of rally driving in South West Wales.

4. The Thrill of Speed and Precision

Rally driving is not just about going fast—though speed certainly plays a role. Precision is equally important. To master a rally driving experience in South West Wales, you need to balance the desire to go full throttle with the ability to handle tight corners, sharp turns, and uneven surfaces. This constant push-pull between speed and control is what makes rally driving so exhilarating.

The thrill of sliding through a corner or hitting the perfect racing line on a tricky section of the track is something that few other driving experiences can offer. It’s not just about how fast you can go, but how skillfully you can manage the terrain and maintain control.

Who Is Rally Driving Suitable For?

One of the best aspects of a Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales is that it’s suitable for a wide range of participants. Whether you’re a complete novice with no driving experience or a seasoned pro looking to hone your rally skills, there’s a level of challenge that suits everyone.

For beginners, rally driving schools often offer introductory courses that provide a controlled environment to learn the basics of off-road driving. Instructors will take you through each step of the process, from basic car control to more advanced techniques. For more experienced drivers, advanced courses and packages are available that allow you to push your limits on more demanding rally tracks.

It’s important to note that age restrictions and license requirements vary depending on the provider. However, most experiences are accessible to anyone with a valid driver’s license and a passion for adventure.

The Benefits of a Rally Driving Experience

Besides the thrill and excitement, there are several benefits to taking part in a Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales. First and foremost, it’s an excellent way to improve your overall driving skills. The techniques you learn in rally driving—such as controlling a car on loose surfaces, handling tight turns, and managing high-speed situations—can translate to better on-road driving ability.

Secondly, rally driving is a fantastic stress reliever. There’s something incredibly freeing about speeding through the countryside, focusing solely on the track ahead of you, and leaving the worries of the outside world behind.

Lastly, rally driving is an unforgettable experience. Whether it’s a one-time thrill or the beginning of a new hobby, it’s sure to create lasting memories and stories to share with friends and family.

Plan Your Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales

If you’re ready to experience the adrenaline rush of rally driving, there’s no better place than South West Wales. The region’s diverse terrain, combined with expert training and top-tier rally cars, makes it a must-visit destination for anyone looking to test their driving skills.

No matter your experience level, a Rally Driving Experience in South West Wales will leave you exhilarated, challenged, and wanting more. So why wait? Step into the driver’s seat and embark on the rally adventure of a lifetime!

[bendingfrost-blog]

//HC - The Civil War

Could get a bit lengthy, so I’ll shove it under a cut, with preemptive apologies to mobile users.

By this blog’s timeline, the Civil War between Ashe and Sejuani kicked off roughly fifteen years in the past.  Over that time, the war has been largely small scale skirmishes; no more than a hundred or so on any one side, with only a handful of truly large-scale battles.  But the bodies add up, and the numbers over the past decade make it one of the bloodiest wars in modern Valoran history.  Few people really see this cost, since it’s happening so slow, but it’s affecting the Freljord severely, something Ashe is all too aware of, as the face of the Freljord to the other nations in Valoran.

While the tribes of the Freljord were always prone to feuds and long-running, bloody animosity over territory, resources, and pride, they were largely content to survive and coexist.  Foreigners could come to the Freljord in relative safety and trade freely with just about any tribe they came across.  This was the state of the Freljord when Ashe first inherited the leadership of her tribe and found Avarosa’s Will, her legendary True Ice bow, at the age of fifteen.  She saw at last a chance to make her childhood dream of a united Freljord, and started reaching out to neighboring tribes, working to bring them around to helping make her dream a reality. Ashe was barely eighteen when she made the fatal mistake of sending a peace offering to the Winter’s Claw.  Having already won the loyalty of several tribes through her passion for a united Freljord as well as through the authority she carried by virtue of Avarosa’s Will, she grew overconfident, and failed to take the time to meet with the Winter’s Claw beforehand.  Her gift was received as an insult, and the Winter’s Claw declared war on the young Ashe’s fledgling alliance of tribes.  And with that, the Freljordian Civil War began. In those early months, the idealistic Ashe quickly saw her vision of a peaceful return to the unity of Avarosa’s legendary kingdom shatter, and in her inexperience and frustration with the violence, made a long series of mistakes and rash decisions that only fed the Winter’s Claw, as tribes turned against her to bolster Sejuani’s traditionalist movement, losing her access to the valuable western coast and its summer shipping lanes.  The war shifted quickly from a conflict between two tribes, to a conflict between two factions of many tribes as the Civil War began to polarize the Freljord. Ashe was forced to learn the hard way, by repeated failure.  But with time came the experience and wisdom she didn’t have at the start, and she began to turn the war in her favor.  Not by building an army to drive Sejuani and her allies into the sea, but by controlling the narrative of the war itself.  She, the descendant of the Iceborn legend Avarosa, rightful heiress to the throne of a united Freljord, wanted nothing more than to raise the Freljord to its former glory by embracing all the tribes, and bringing them in under the great Avarosa’s ancient banner.  Sejuani, she claimed, would rather the Freljord remain divided and vulnerable, for the sake of some misguided notion that isolation and conflict bred strength.  By the war’s fifth year, most of the southern tribes were united under the Avarosan banner, and her influence was creeping east and north. By the seventh year, she had used the location of her capital of Frosthelm, situated in a mild, fertile valley in the south, to establish control over the land routes into the Freljord.  All land-based trade would have to pass through Avarosan lands first.  This denied the Winter’s Claw access to the safest trade routes out of the Freljord, leaving them only the western sea during the summer months, but more importantly, it made Ashe and the Avarosans the first people any foreigners met when they came by land.  The diplomats of the foreign nations would enter Frosthelm and meet with Ashe long before they had any opportunity to travel further north in search of Sejuani. This established Ashe as the face of the Freljord to the outside world, and gave her the ability to shape outside perceptions of the war.  She learned political etiquette from the visiting dignitaries and diplomats and began to practice the craft by reaching out to the neighboring nations.  It was around this time that Noxus launched it’s brief and ill-fated campaign against the eastern tribes.  The attack galvanized the region, giving both Sejuani and Ashe openings to sway the tribes to their side.  By the time the Noxians turned back, the eastern tribes were largely pledged to the Avarosan cause, while Sejuani secured and consolidated support in the west. By the tenth year, cartographers could almost draw defined lines between the territories held by the Winter’s Claw and its allies, and the Avarosan alliance. In the five years since, little has changed.  While Ashe controls the largest assemblage of tribes and holds strategic control over the southern border and most of the shores along the Conqueror’s Sea to the east, Sejuani and her allies are left free to roam, hunt, and gather all across the northern and western reaches of the Freljord, and trade freely in the summer when the ice on the western sea melts.  The tribes that have refused to take a side are deaf to both leader’s rallying cries, and neither side dare bring their war into the territories of the revered Frostguard, so as not to disturb their sacred duties. Ashe is now thirty-three years old.  The light skirmishes continue across the belly of the Freljord, and tribes on the fringes of both alliances make raids deep into enemy territory, with or without the approval of the two leaders.  But Ashe refuses to give up on her dream of unity, and Sejuani refuses to bend her knee to the woman who insulted her tribe.  And so the Freljord falls into an uneasy stalemate, and the land and its people remain both more unified, yet more divided, than ever before.

[multipleservicelisting]

Before the Capitol Riot, Calls for Cash and Talk of Revolution

Keith Lee, an Air Force veteran and former police detective, spent the morning of Jan. 6 casing the entrances to the Capitol.

In online videos, the 41-year-old Texan pointed out the flimsiness of the fencing. He cheered the arrival, long before President Trump’s rally at the other end of the mall, of far-right militiamen encircling the building. Then, armed with a bullhorn, Mr. Lee called out for the mob to rush in, until his voice echoed from the dome of the Rotunda.

Yet even in the heat of the event, Mr. Lee paused for some impromptu fund-raising. “If you couldn’t make the trip, give five to 10 bucks,” he told his viewers, seeking donations for the legal costs of two jailed “patriots,” a leader of the far-right Proud Boys and an ally who had clashed with the police during an armed incursion at Oregon’s statehouse.

Much is still unknown about the planning and financing of the storming of the Capitol, aiming to challenge Mr. Trump’s electoral defeat. What is clear is that it was driven, in part, by a largely ad hoc network of low-budget agitators, including far-right militants, Christian conservatives and ardent adherents of the QAnon conspiracy theory. Mr. Lee is all three. And the sheer breadth of the movement he joined suggests it may be far more difficult to confront than a single organization.

In the months leading up to the riot, Mr. Lee had helped organize a series of pro-Trump car caravans around the country, including one that temporarily blockaded a Biden campaign bus in Texas and another that briefly shut down a Hudson River bridge in the New York City suburbs. To help pay for dozens of caravans to meet at the Jan. 6 rally, he had teamed up with an online fund-raiser in Tampa, Fla., who secured money from small donors and claimed to pass out tens of thousands of dollars.

Theirs was one of many grass-roots efforts to bring Trump supporters to the Capitol, often amid calls for revolution, if not outright violence. On an online ride-sharing forum, Patriot Caravans for 45, more than 4,000 members coordinated travel from as far away as California and South Dakota. Some 2,000 people donated at least $181,700 to another site, Wild Protest, leaving messages urging ralliers to halt the certification of the vote.

Oath Keepers, a self-identified militia whose members breached the Capitol, had solicited donations online to cover “gas, airfare, hotels, food and equipment.” Many others raised money through the crowdfunding site GoFundMe or, more often, its explicitly Christian counterpart, GiveSendGo. (On Monday, the money transfer service PayPal stopped working with GiveSendGo because of its links to the violence at the Capitol.)

A few prominent firebrands, an opaque pro-Trump nonprofit and at least one wealthy donor had campaigned for weeks to amplify the president’s false claims about his defeat, stoking the anger of his supporters.

A chief sponsor of many rallies leading up to the riot, including the one featuring the president on Jan. 6, was Women for America First, a conservative nonprofit. Its leaders include Amy Kremer, who rose to prominence in the Tea Party movement, and her daughter, Kylie Jane Kremer, 30. She started a “Stop the Steal” Facebook page on Nov. 4. More than 320,000 people signed up in less than a day, but the platform promptly shut it down for fears of inciting violence. The group has denied any violent intent.

By far the most visible financial backer of Women for America First’s efforts was Mike Lindell, a founder of the MyPillow bedding company, identified on a now-defunct website as one of the “generous sponsors” of a bus tour promoting Mr. Trump’s attempt to overturn the election. In addition, he was an important supporter of Right Side Broadcasting, an obscure pro-Trump television network that provided blanket coverage of Trump rallies after the vote, and a podcast run by the former Trump adviser Stephen K. Bannon that also sponsored the bus tour.

“I put everything I had into the last three weeks, financial and everything,” Mr. Lindell said in a mid-December television interview.

In a tweet the same month, he urged Mr. Trump to “impose martial law” to seize ballots and voting machines. Through a representative, Mr. Lindell said he only supported the bus tour “prior to December 14th” and was not a financial sponsor of any events after that, including the rally on Jan. 6. He continues to stand by the president’s claims and met with Mr. Trump at the White House on Friday.

By late December, the president himself was injecting volatility into the organizing efforts, tweeting an invitation to a Washington rally that would take place as Congress gathered to certify the election results.

“Be there, will be wild!” Mr. Trump wrote.

The next day, a new website, Wild Protest, was registered and quickly emerged as an organizing hub for the president’s most zealous supporters. It appeared to be connected to Ali Alexander, a conspiracy theorist who vowed to stop the certification by “marching hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of patriots to sit their butts in D.C. and close that city down.”

Mr. Alexander could not be reached for comment, but in a video posted to Twitter last week, he denied any responsibility for the violence.

While other groups like Women for America First were promoting the rally where Mr. Trump would speak — at the Ellipse, about a mile west of the Capitol — the Wild Protest website directed Trump supporters to a different location: the doorsteps of Congress.

Wild Protest linked to three hotels with discounted rates and another site for coordinating travel plans. It also raised donations from thousands of individuals, according to archived versions of a web portal used to collect them. The website has since been taken down, and it is not clear what the money was used for.

“The time for words has passed, action alone will save our Republic,” a user donating $250 wrote, calling congressional certification of the vote “treasonous.”

Another contributor gave $47 and posted: “Fight to win our country back using whatever means necessary.”

Mr. Lee, who sought to raise legal-defense money the morning before the riot, did not respond to requests for comment. He has often likened supporters of overturning the election to the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and has said he is willing to give his life for the cause.

A sales manager laid off at an equipment company because of the pandemic, he has said that he grew up as a conservative Christian in East Texas. Air Force records show that he enlisted a month after the Sept. 11 attacks and served for four years, leaving as a senior airman. Later, in 2011 and 2012, he worked for a private security company at a U.S. military base in Afghanistan.

In between, he also worked as a police detective in McKinney, Texas, not far from Houston.

He had never been politically active, he has said. But during Mr. Trump’s first term, Mr. Lee began to immerse himself in the online QAnon conspiracy theory. Its adherents hold that Mr. Trump is trying to save America from a shadowy ring of pedophiles who control the government and the Democratic Party. Mr. Lee has said that resonated with his experience dealing with child crimes as a police officer.

His active support for Mr. Trump began last August when he organized a caravan of drivers from around the state to show their support for the president by circling the capital, Austin. That led him to found a website, MAGA Drag the Interstate, to organize Trump caravans around the country.

By December, Mr. Lee had achieved enough prominence that he was included in a roster of speakers at a news conference preceding a “March for Trump” rally in Washington.

“We are at this precipice” of “good versus evil,” Mr. Lee declared. “I am going to fight for my president. I am going to fight for what is right.”

He threw himself into corralling fellow “patriots” to meet in Washington on Jan. 6, and at the end of last month he began linking his website with the Tampa organizer to raise money for participants’ travel.

The fund-raiser, who has identified himself as a web designer named Thad Williams, has said in a podcast that sexual abuse as a child eventually led him to the online world of QAnon.

While others “made of steel” are cut out to be “warriors against evil” and “covered in the blood and sweat of that part,” Mr. Williams said, he sees himself as more of “a chaplain and a healer.” In 2019, he set up a website to raise money for QAnon believers to travel to Trump rallies. He could not be reached for comment.

By the gathering at the Capitol, he claimed to have raised and distributed at least $30,000 for transportation costs. Expression of thanks posted on Twitter appear to confirm that he allocated money, and a day after the assault the online services PayPal and Stripe shut down his accounts.

Mr. Lee’s MAGA Drag the Interstate site, for its part, said it had organized car caravans of more than 600 people bound for the rally. It used military-style shorthand to designate routes in different regions across the country, from Alpha to Zulu, and a logo on the site combined Mr. Trump’s distinctive hairstyle with Pepe the Frog, a symbol of the alt-right that has been used by white supremacists.

Participants traded messages about where to park together overnight on the streets of Washington. Some arranged midnight rendezvous at highway rest stops or Waffle House restaurants to drive together on the morning of the rally.

On the evening of Jan. 5, Mr. Lee broadcast a video podcast from a crowd of chanting Trump supporters in the Houston airport, waiting to board a flight to Washington. “We are there for a show of force,” he promised, suggesting he anticipated street fights even before dawn. “Gonna see if we can do a little playing in the night.”

A co-host of the podcast — a self-described Army veteran from Washington State — appealed for donations to raise $250,000 bail money for Chandler Pappas, 27.

Chandler Pappas outside the the Oregon statehouse last month.Credit…Mathieu Lewis-Rolland/Reuters

Two weeks earlier in Salem, Oregon, during a protest against Covid-19 restrictions, Mr. Pappas had sprayed six police officers with mace while leading an incursion into the State Capitol building and carrying a semiautomatic rifle, according to a police report. Mr. Pappas, whose lawyer did not return a phone call seeking comment, had been linked to the far-right Proud Boys and an allied local group called Patriot Prayer.

“American citizens feel like they’ve been attacked. Fear’s reaction is anger, anger’s reaction is patriotism and voilà — you get a war,” said Mr. Lee’s co-host, who gave his name as Rampage.

He directed listeners to donate to the bail fund through GiveSendGo, and thanked them for helping to raise $100,000 through the same site for the legal defense of Enrique Tarrio, a leader of the Proud Boys who is accused of vandalizing a historically Black church in Washington.

By 10:45 a.m. the next day, more than an hour before Mr. Trump spoke, Mr. Lee was back online broadcasting footage of himself at the Capitol.

“If you died today and you went to heaven, can you look George Washington in the face and say that you’ve fought for this country?” he asked.

By noon, he was reporting that “backup” was already arriving, bypassing the Trump speech and rally. The Proud Boys and Oath Keepers were among the groups that went directly to the Capitol.

“Guys, we got the Three Percent here! The Three Percent here that loves this country and wants to fight!” Mr. Lee reported a little later, referring to another militant group. “We need to surround this place.”

Backed by surging crowds, Mr. Lee had made his way into the Rotunda and by 3 p.m. — after a fellow assailant had been shot, police officers had been injured and local authorities were pleading for help — he was back outside using his megaphone to urge others into the building. “If we do it together,” he insisted, “there’s no violence!”

When he knew that lawmakers had evacuated, he declared victory: “We have done our job,” he shouted.

Reporting was contributed by Kitty Bennett, Stella Cooper, Cora Engelbrecht, Sheera Frenkel and Haley Willis.

Video production by Ainara Tiefenthäler.

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Did the first virtual conventions succeed?

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Did the first virtual conventions succeed?

By Linda Peek Schacht In this era of COVID-19 both political parties faced an unprecedented challenge: adapting the traditional nominating convention, the basic format of which hasn’t changed much since the first in 1831, to the reality of the pandemic. So how did they do? There was a marked contrast in their technical approach. The Democrats produced television programming that served as a convention. By contrast, the Republicans produced a traditional convention that was televised and had the feel of a theatrical production. Democrats focused on character and compassion In the first virtual political convention, Democrats delivered a different kind of reality show: television about real people and their upturned lives in Trump’s America, starring a guy named Joe who understands and is ready to help. Hundreds of Americans made up the cast, supported by the party’s deep leadership bench of women and people of color, past presidents and first ladies, a Pulitzer-Prize winning historian, and several well-known Republicans. The producers, lest we miss the point, titled the program Unifying America, and with a “break the glass in case of emergency” urgency, called on viewers to vote to save democracy from a divisive president unfit to lead. At times it had the feel of a telethon (with the reminders to “text VOTE to 30330”) or the drama of a televised intervention trying to wrest the family business away from the crazy uncle who is driving it into bankruptcy. To the surprise of many, it worked. The Washington Post suggested an Emmy nomination. Baltimore Sun media critic David Zurawik proclaimed the convention a reminder of “the enduring power of one human voice speaking passionately from the heart to a camera.” “They successfully took a 19th Century genre (the political convention) into the 21st Century media landscape,” says Kathleen Hall Jamieson, author of Eloquence in an Electronic Age and over a dozen other books on politics and presidential rhetoric. Convention speeches interrupted by applause may momentarily rally the troops, she noted in an interview, but the Democrats used more personal political persuasion. “Television invites conversational, self-disclosive intimate narrative… It allowed for others to comment live and on video to show the different dimensions of Biden: his love of family, his faith, his experience of loss. They could show that he does understand what people are going through because he has gone through it too.” Speaking from the heart into the camera worked for standouts like Michelle Obama, who won the convention on social media, garnering five times the interactions (likes, comments, shares) of her husband at number two. It also worked for Bernie Sanders, who curtailed his bombastic style, and for Hillary Clinton, who mused ruefully from her living room that this cannot be another “shoulda, coulda, woulda” election. Jill Biden spoke from her old classroom using one of the enduring metaphors of the convention: Joe Biden can heal our broken nation just as he healed his broken family. And for Americans cooped up for months, Democrats provided a virtual road trip in the roll call. “Magical and inspiring,” tweeted one media critic. Jamieson points out that the roll call, usually a process of showing political hacks in funny outfits on a convention floor, was “transformed into a series of vignettes that made it look like Biden was being nominated by America.” When the narrative missed the mark, as with the 17-person keynote, the visual nonetheless relayed a party of young, diverse women and men. Some visuals did not work, as John Kasich’s long shot of a literal fork in the road or the wide shots of Kamala Harris speaking to an empty hall, which broke the intimacy of her message when talking into the camera. The moment of silence for George Floyd was awkward as the production moved from screen to screen. Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s comedy seemed off-key for a night deserving gravitas. And a few old-school politicians uncertain with the new format insisted on giving more speech than conversation and missed their opening cues. But those were minor complaints in four nights geared to the different ways Americans consume information. This was not only good television, it was good “social television”, a concept from scholar Donatella Selva, with TV the central stage where politics happens and the use of second screens provides a social ritual of “viewing as a shared event”.[1] Time will tell if it worked politically. Republicans harnessed the power of the office and focused on fear The Republican Party also was forced to bow to the pandemic even though President Trump tried to hold out as long as possible for a large in-person convention. Their solution was to televise a scaled-down, traditional convention in three cities: Charlotte, Baltimore, and Washington D.C. with the majesty of the White House and other federal sites as the stage. Not since Michael Deaver moved the first Inauguration of Ronald Reagan from the east to the west side of the Capitol, looking down the Mall to the White House and beyond to the monuments, have federal buildings been used so effectively for a televised event. The visuals were psychologically powerful, such as the Trump family launching the fireworks over the Washington monument, reinforcing the president’s acceptance speech line “We’re here and they’re not.” This was not a Rose Garden communication strategy where the president stays above the fray and surrogates do the campaigning. This was a merging of a Rose Garden strategy with direct presidential campaigning in official settings and showcasing presidential powers like pardons. This communication advantage could forever enhance the power of the incumbency. That power of incumbency also allowed President Trump the advantage of rebuttal and the opportunity to reframe. Just as the Democrats had warned of democracy’s demise under four more years of Trump, speakers warned you will not be safe in Joe Biden’s America. They reframed Biden as a Trojan horse of the socialist left and recast the Democrats’ message of light and darkness with mocking lines such as one about blackouts in California. A more traditional stage and podium require adjustments in delivery for the television audience. Some speakers were better than others. Melania Trump and Ivanka Trump struck the needed conversational tone. But Jamieson believes Donald Trump, Jr’s speech and delivery were “too hot” for television and even Fox News cut away from Kimberly Guilfoyle for the same reason. “Speaking too loudly, or in the case of Rudy Giuliani, growling and seeming on the verge of being overpowered by negative emotions, defeats the purpose of the message,” she told me. In other words, you want the audience to fear the opponent, not you. Jamieson has studied the power of fear in campaign rhetoric. “To the extent you are fearful, you are more likely to vote for the person who will reduce that fear.” There were repeated references to President Trump as protector of America from cancel culture, riots in the suburbs, and socialism. The president’s conflating of Black Lives Matter’s peaceful protestors with rioters, looters, and anarchists may be working. Support for BLM has decreased thirteen points in the battleground state of Wisconsin in last two months. As for Trump’s speech itself, Jamieson believes he did what he needed to do. Some called it flat. But a bombastic rally-style speech would not have worked, and while the speech itself was poorly organized, he stuck to the teleprompter and avoided being too hot for television. Social media and the second screen as a convention hall Each of the conventions got roughly 50 million social media interactions. First Ladies Michelle Obama and Melania Trump won their conventions with Mrs. Obama at 7.6 million interactions and 3.1 million for Mrs. Trump. The GOP had the benefit of President Trump retweeting every convention speaker to his 85 million followers. Both parties leveraged the power of local media. The Republicans provided download-ready B-roll to local stations, still an important source of voters’ news. Democrats pitched local stories on the Americans whose videos were chosen from the party’s crowdsourcing effort. Two starkly different versions of reality were on-screen Finally, let’s return to the visuals. Michael Deaver, known as former President Ronald Reagan’s vicar of visuals, knew that in television what you see trumps what you say. These conventions reflected two different pandemic realities: a Biden reality and a Trump reality. Visuals of masked Democrats socially distancing and talking to each other through Zoom in a mostly virtual convention vs. visuals of crowds in Charlotte, Fort McHenry and the White House south lawn, with few masks on an audience sitting close together. The visual contrast was stark—the pandemic still raging or the pandemic controlled and in the past tense. The visuals also presented two different realities of the movement for racial justice: riots in the streets of cities with Democratic mayors vs. peaceful protests in those same cities. And finally, the visuals showed two different realities of the economy: people thriving in a recovering economy vs. people without jobs and food, insecure in an economy brought down by bungled handling of COVID. But the reality that matters the most is the reality of the individual’s life. Campaign rhetoric may be mediated through the network a person watches, but more important is their own reality. And it is the reality voters live every day that will decide the next president on Election Day.

[1] Selva, Donatella. 2016. “Social Television: Audience and Political Engagement.” Television and New Media 17, no. 2: 159–73.

[bigyack-com]

When Road Trips Cross Continents, Be Ready for Anything

Driving on the “other” side of the road was the least their problems. One wayward driver in Mexico was certain his wrong turn had invited a police shakedown. In Turkey, one breakdown among many ended with locals helping build a campfire on a frigid night. In Kenya, a repair took on extra urgency when the travelers realized they were in the middle of a path for drug smugglers.Getting behind the wheel in a foreign country can give tourists greater freedom to explore, but also more ways for things to go awry. For many travelers, the extra adventures are worth the troubles.It was a torrid, humid day in La Paz, Mexico, two years ago when Chris Collard accidentally turned his truck the wrong way down a one-way road. He quickly realized his mistake and reversed out, but a police officer noticed his error.“I thought, here we go,” said Mr. Collard, whose experiences with the police in other countries have not always been pleasant. An international photojournalist and owner of Adventure Architects, he was expecting to be forced to pay a bribe.After he explained he was a little bit lost, the officer returned from his car with a map, but no ticket in hand, and said: “I can help you find this place. Follow me.”What could have been a tense situation instead became a warm memory.Ray Hyland, a professional adventurer who puts on “overland rally” automotive events in the United States, and his family bought a 1954 Series 1 Land Rover for $225 in 2012, got it running and shipped it to Britain. They eventually spent nine months driving it from London to Singapore. They noticed on travel forums that people “felt they needed to build a hugely customized vehicle to go camping or ‘overlanding,’” Mr. Hyland said. “We wanted to point out the folly of that, using an extreme example.” All five family members, along with their camping gear, were stuffed into a vehicle smaller than a Volkswagen Beetle.“Maybe not funny at the time, but it broke down every day,” he said. One night when it was minus 18 degrees Celsius in eastern Turkey, “helpful locals tried to build a fire under the engine to warm it up,” he added.The truck broke down all the time, but the Hylands had planned for that. It was cheaper to fix it on the road with inexpensive local parts and labor than restoring it before they left Chilliwack (a town near Vancouver, British Columbia), where they live. Local people stopped often to help, even if language was a barrier.“Once I improvised and used a pencil to repair a failing carburetor by screwing it into the hole left when a screw fell out on the highway south of Istanbul,” Mr. Hyland said with a chuckle.Another part, a seal between the engine and transmission, failed as they were climbing the Himalayan foothills. No spares were readily available, so a mechanic in Darjeeling fashioned one out of the leather from an old Gurkha soldier’s hat.Dan Grec, a world traveler, photographer and author, said road trips were the quintessential vacation in his native Australia.“Growing up, my family went on many camping trips around southern and eastern Australia. This is where I got my love of going new places, camping and just enjoying nature,” he said.In June 2016, he hatched a plan to travel across Africa. Starting in Morocco, Mr. Grec drove south on the west coast to Cape Town in South Africa before he headed back north to finish in Alexandria, Egypt. He’s proud of this particular adventure: “The entire journey spanned three years through 35 countries,” he said. “All told, I drove 54,000 miles.”You don’t cover that many miles without some bumps along the way.In rural Uganda near Lake Albert, after a brief moment of inattention from driving, he crashed his Jeep and it fell onto its side. No one was hurt, thankfully, and he got a helping hand from local villagers to pull his Jeep back onto its wheels.Africa brings particular challenges, which Mr. Collard has experienced as well.“Late one night in Kenya,” he said, “we got lost on a rough two-track near the Somali border, and our ’73 Range Rover stopped running. Laying on my back in the driver’s-side footwell, I tried to repair a broken throttle cable with my Leatherman, baling wire, Gorilla tape and headlamp while my buddy Sam Watson kept guard for lions and other critters that could eat us.”Soon, trucks loaded with bales of khat and armed guards zoomed by — and they quickly realized they were on a smuggler’s route, he said. Their desire to leave took on new urgency.There are health challenges, as well, for anyone who might set out on a four-wheel adventure.“We all got food poisoning in India, at different times,” Mr. Hyland said. “The hygiene there is so bad it’s inevitable.”Along with maintaining follow-up injections for assorted vaccines, the Hyland family took prophylactic doses of antibiotics as it traveled through malaria-infested areas.“It kills the good bacteria in your system as well as the bad bacteria, so it takes about six months for your body to get back to normal,” Mr. Hyland said.Mr. Grec contracted malaria twice, he said: “The first time, in Mali, I took the ‘cure’ medicine quickly, and for about three days, it felt like the worst flu I’ve ever had.”Months later, in Angola, he started to feel familiar symptoms. “I took the cure, though the following morning I was shivering uncontrollably in the full sun wearing my down jacket.”For five days and nights Mr. Grec couldn’t eat, sleep or walk. He also couldn’t talk or drink — and he says he lost about 20 pounds. “My friends were injecting me with the high-strength cure medicine morning and night, and I eventually pulled through,” he said.There’s a common theme with traveling, no matter what happens. Locals are happy to help, and a friendly smile goes a long way, especially if you don’t know the language.“People are the same around the world. They simply want to go to work and come home to their families,” Mr. Hyland said. “This is a perspective we can forget when we watch the news. Travel reminds us we have more in common than we think.”Mr. Collard agrees with that sentiment. “If you embrace the nuances of another culture, its people will embrace you,” he said.Marianne Hyland has relished traveling the world with her husband and three sons.“Experiencing the different cultures of the countries we visited and getting to meet the people of other countries is firsthand experience that language and culture is not a barrier to kindness,” she said. “The most important thing is to do it.” Read the full article