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The day started with Gomez dominating the swim with Frodeno, Josh Amberger (AUS), Jimmy Seear (AUS), Ben Collins (USA) and Brent McMahon (CAN) right behind him. Once on the run, the Spanish looked as relaxed as early in the race, one by one, the athletes on the lead pack were getting dropped by his blazing.
This item will be sent through the Global Shipping Programme and includes international tracking. Most purchases from business sellers are protected by the Consumer Contract Regulations 2013 which give you the right to cancel the purchase within 14 days after the day you receive the item. Based on stylistic comparisons such as striations inside body contours and the presentation of horns in twisted perspective, several Paleolithic art experts, including the first curator of the Chauvet Cave, Jean Clottes, have accredited the Portuguese friezes to the early Solutrean of about 20,000 years ago3. In Portugal, the government did the opposite a€“ plunging ahead with a project destined to destroy the nationa€™s oldest cultural heritage by completing a 300-million-dollar dam whose reservoir will flood a valley packed with dozens of art sites spread over at least 17 kilometers. Yet construction continues - even on holidays - and the water is about to rise another hundred meters. A male ibex with his head shown in two positions, as if he were turning to watch the female behind him. As we drove up to a sentry box perched on the lip of a road into the vast, unnatural gashing of mountains at Foz CA?a, it was hard to tell if the young guard blocking us in a crisp red and gray uniform represented a well-heeled security service or an elite military unit - but it was plain that bluff and sweet talk wouldn't get us far. The next time the car eased over the knuckles of a road crisscrossed by up-ended strata, past empty huts built just of stacked slabs, and jostled between overhanging and plunging cliffs until an avalanche of tailings from an old quarry almost blocked the path. Here was one of the places of grandeur where our ancestors had first grasped visions and then concretized them by hewing - and sometimes painting - images into rock panels. As I pushed forward and the river grew shallower, turtles became so numerous that their stacks toppled like circus acts from the brinks of submerged cliffs. As a draftsman, I could feel empathy for the beast flowing into the hands that had etched her. This first frieze stood at a fitting point, practically where the reservoir yielded to the original rapids and long pools of the virgin river. Far away across the moonscape of rutted ramps, knots of men stood before tunnels as fleets of dump trucks, made so tiny by distance that they only gave away their magnitude by over-sized wheels, eased to the brink of platforms, and added avalanches to tailings.
Above us, the titanium-white cleanliness of the cement plant's towers stood in bold contrast to the devastation, like a phalanx of gigantic chess-rooks bunched for the kill. According to press articles, the dam-builders had recognized him as the true discoverer of Portugal's first reported Paleolithic engravings, at nearby Mazouco, even though the doctoral student's mentor, Professor Vitor Oliviera Jorge, had stolen his thunder.7 They had given Rebanda a job as their obligatory salvage archaeologist when the new doctor somehow couldn't get a position on a faculty. In return, all he'd had to do was wait till their concrete curtain had gone up and its reservoir had risen into a sea so voluminous and costly that its drainage would have been unthinkable. My goateed interlocutor smirked as he told me I could try looking for the doctor at the complex built for the previous dam, 15A kilometers downstream.
But I'd hit pay dirt: the fact that I might hear Rebanda's mea culpa was more than Ia€™d hoped for. Sebastian elected to wait outside and embarked on Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth as I knocked at the locked door. Still, I complimented her on her English, sympathized with them for having to put up with this hierarchical bother, and kept spinning innocuous questions, while she kept waiting for me to go. When Rebanda's secretary came out again, to see if she could get either me a€“ or her boss - to give up as the wait grew embarrassingly long, I asked her what the round silos with tipped roofs on the hills had been used for. But the next time, after they had gotten used to my rounds, I stepped inside and admired a sequence of two eight-foot-tall maps full of pins. Something was wrong: in addition to the constellations of pins extending for 17 kilometers upstream from the construction site, there were dozens downstream, along the reservoir behind the dam just outside!
Finally, so many hours had passed, and she'd informed the doctor so many times that I was still hanging around, that I was forced by the sheer need for new scenery to vary my route, and drifted through empty rooms. The only thing the reports agreed on was that Rebanda had somehow discovered the flooded portion of Canada do Inferno by the previous autumn22 a€“ asking the EDP to lower the Pocinho reservoir by just 3 meters in November 1994 so he could study the engravings.23 a€?They told me it was too expensive,a€? Rebanda had told the New York Times.
So who had shot these photographs, which looked like they had been taken when the sites were dry vegetated hillsides instead of among the muck and bare banks below a fallen waterline?
I realized that the photos of the dry sites might have been taken before the Pocinho Dam, which had flooded them, had even been completed a€“ over 12 years before! UNESCO had suggested Clottes, who, in an uncanny convergence of good and bad karma, was taken on a whirlwind tour of the tip of the iceberg at Canada do Inferno, then immediately whisked to a press conference in Vila Nova do Foz CA?a on Dec 16th, 199428 a€“ just two days before the discovery of the Chauvet Cave that catapulted him, as its first interpreter and protector, from the summit of the French archaeological establishment to world fame.
But Clottesa€™ judgement was mixed, confirming that the art could be dated on stylistic grounds to the early Solutrean or even late Gravettian of twenty to twenty-four thousand years ago while suggesting that flooding the valley might be the best way of protecting it, since Portugal was ill-equipped to protect such widely dispersed panels from vandals!29 a€?There is no easy solution,a€? he told a reporter. What the press forgot to emphasize with quite as much fervor was the fact that Clottes had prefaced his Solomonic verdict by saying, a€?Whatever happens, the engravings must be preserved and not be damaged.a€? Clottes might have felt that he could safely pass the buck because no art conservationist could honestly guarantee the engravingsa€™ fate once they were subjected to currents carrying abrasives, burial under the petrifying alluvia that accumulates behind dams,33 and the worlda€™s most destructive solvent a€“ water, which would dissolve pigments and destabilize rock that had proven its resistance to aerial conditions over tens of millennia. While chatting up the gaunt fellow traveller at the construction site, Ia€™d pretended to make small talk by asking engineering questions, including one about the depth of the sediment that had accumulated behind the Pocinho dam. The irony of it was that Clottesa€™ efforts to be honest without irritating his hosts had been the spark that the French diplomats had dreaded.
Despite the fact that the great prehistoriana€™s reputation would remain largely intact, and with good reason, in much of the rest of the world,34 the Portuguese intelligentsia began to shun him. A€ propos of CA?a, two Portuguese rock art researchers, who couldna€™t stomach Clottes after his press conference, ironically echoed him by telling me, confidentially, that flooding the engravings could still be a blessing since it would save them from graffiti and those boogeymen of archaeologistsa€™ dreams, prowling collectors. My guess is that he was so beleaguered by advisers that he was just trying to get out of an awkward situation as quickly, judiciously and diplomatically as possible.
I mentioned to Rebanda that I had just attended the lecture on Chauvet, that I even had a videotape of it right there in my camera. So it's true, I thought, drowning the site was Rebanda's solution to the problem of ownership of photographic rights.
But then, what about Rebanda's self-serving talk of photo credits, not to mention the engravings already submerged by the dam at the doorstep a€“ and his belief that the engravings were doomed to be flooded?
Strangely enough, I could again see it being both ways, since the roots of tragedy are self-deception and entwined motives. He must have realized that I was rooting for him to pull himself out of his tailspin, because suddenly he decided. Upon leaving, Sebastian asked to check out the Pocinho dam, so I drove round an interchange into an empty parking lot with planters. As the sun slanted over the plateau into the wilderness of the CA?a valley, I decided to sneak into a side-valley to the north of our campsite that Rebanda's map had cluttered with pins.
Then, after breaching a wall of rushes, we broke to the reservoir's edge - and were met by a horned skull stuck on a stake. Suddenly, I remembered what Rebanda had said about the engravings' association with witchcraft. Being obstinate (or perhaps because of the prehistoric setting), I started whittling stone, knapping a microlithic surgeon's kit, and then bent single-mindedly to my task - failing till I was disgusted with myself and worried for my victim (which I had bizarrely associated with Rebanda). This time there were two guards behind an overhanging military fence crested by barbed wire. The guard who beckoned us in was rearing a guard-dog puppy, which scampered around, tumbling over ledges and using its chin to lever itself over steps.
Our guide was a decent young man who couldn't help feeling uneasy blocking access to these bold masterpieces at the source of all our arts.
Still, these guards were actually tame as the locals poured down to catch a glimpse of the animals through the fence. After he'd hastened to take up his time-clock again, I wandered if there might not be even more testimonials of man's attraction to this classical Eden with its islets and fords in the flowery river, and browsed through a plowed orchard, along a contour which I judged would have been the valley floor half a million years ago. We knew the next dawn would be our last, so we broke camp in blue light to explore the teeming side-valley beyond the first auroch.
Not Portugal's - OURS - because this art is so old, despite its elegance, that we share the blood and genius of those distant ancestors who awoke to the universe, whether our cavalcade of ancestors migrated around the Old World or came across the Bering Straits 14,000 years ago. Footnotes have been added to the internet version of the article to provide historical perspective and more detail about sources than the versions that were published & distributed in 1995. 1 The three discoverers of the Chauvet Cave were Eliette Brunel Deschamps, Christian Hillaire, and Jean-Marie Chauvet. 2 The IPPAR announced the existence of the valleya€™s engravings on November 19, 1994 but a video was made of them in 1993. 10 Bahn 1995 for a re-capitulation of the same accusations against the IPPAR & Rebanda. 33 Bednarik & Jaffe have been the most outspoken spokesmen about delusions concerning the protective qualities of reservoirs a€“ which not only inundate art panels with water but deep alluvial deposits that make their later recovery dangerous and impractical. 34 Interestingly, a few years after this appeal was written, Clottes came under fierce attack and even ridicule by many representatives of the French intelligentsia, including some of the countrya€™s most prominent prehistorians, after he and David Lewis-Williams published a€?The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and magic in the painted cavesa€? in 1996. As soon as their results indicating that the art might be only 3,000 to 6,500 years old (if not even younger) were announced a€“ which actually made the engravings even more astonishing, potentially rewriting the history of rock art or even making Portugal the last bastion of the Paleolithic tradition a€“ the most important Portuguese right-wing weekly screamed that the direct-dating results proved that stylistic daters like Clottes had perpetrated a a€?FRAUDa€? (O Independente, 7 July 1995).
It should also be noted that the individuals who participated in the debate were often somewhat unwittingly drawn into playing secondary or tertiary roles in a struggle between the Portuguese Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Industry. 40 In November 1995 - six months after this call-toa€“arms was published and circulated to Prehistoric Art Emergencya€™s volunteers (who Ia€™m glad to report included a young actor, Yann Montelle, who went on to earn a doctorate in prehistory) - a book edited by Jorge called a€?Dossier CA?aa€? appeared with 20 contributions by him or his wife. 44 After writing this article in May 1995, it occurred to me that I might have missed one of the main reasons for eliminating Rebanda from Portugala€™s archaeological milieu a€“ the fact that he was so effective at finding rock art that drew international attention, first to Mazouco, then to CA?a. 49 When I wrote the article, I assumed that the two young men were Rebandaa€™s subordinates and referred to them as a€?draftsmena€?. 50 After initially denigrating both the art and the idea of extracting it, the EDP later adopted the idea as one of its three strategies for overcoming opposition to the dam project. Spent the first couple days on a high-speed grind across six states I'd already crossed and re-crossed dozens of times since college. I did consider passing the miles by counting trees (Hey, I've done similar with kayak strokes by the thousands) but there were just too many of them. I finally just shifted into Stoic mode -- which I'm good at a€“ hunkering down and staring at the road ahead for dangerous debris. Occasionally I see an annoying sign alongside the highway and latch onto its theme to pass the time. My traveling companion (I'd say my pal) Kawasaki has been behaving and is giving me 50 mpg. Who knows, you may get lucky and I'll be left speechless by the beauty of the Great Plains.
In the 62 years I've been consuming corn -- popped, on the cob, candy corn, tortillas, chips, corn syrup and liquor -- I'm sure I haven't eaten more than an acre's worth, tops two. Spent most of yesterday crossing Missouri on Route 70, a nondescript stretch of highway notable mostly for its gentle undulations -- like a kiddie roller-coaster -- and the amazing number of billboards atop 50-foot stanchions lining both sides of the road. The pace is going well enough that I'm giving up the interstates for the smaller, slower roads.
The drawback to abandoning the interstate is no longer having the shelter of the underpasses when there's rain or lightning. 98 degrees yesterday, possibly higher today, and the engine I'm straddling ups it even further.
But, as they tell you at the beginning or end of many church services, "This is the day we are given. Drove up into the Bighorn Mountains yesterday to get some relief -- and it did knock 10 or 15 degrees off.
Spotted a fluid leak from my rear axle, which is a concern because I have limited tools with me and even less know-how. But I remember seeing it in 1952 and unless they've added some guys up there, I figure I'm covered.
This stark, barren topography of northern Wyoming looks so familiar to me, and I realize it's from that 1952 trip when the Old Man drove Mom and us four boys out here to see the national parks.
Traveling in the car with him was like being confined in tight quarters with a very cranky grizzly bear.
Aside from the 1,500 miles of lush farmland from Ohio to Nebraska and the Bighorns, I liked the Black Hills of South Dakota lots -- if you erase the tourist towns of Custer, Sulphur Springs and Keystone, which are pure kitsch. Last night I drove far afield and couldn't make it back to a population center where they might have brand-name lodging -- Holiday Inn, etc. The large dining was was empty except for five young waitresses on break, sitting at a round table with a quiet young fellow about their age.
The youngest and smallest of the ladies -- I'd say she'd just finished high school, or was about to -- came over and asked if it was cold outside. Then she grabbed a telephone and called her boss, who apparently had composed and printed the menu. The other waitresses had jumped up and gone through the entire supply of new menus, only finding the a€?bubesa€? misprint in four of them. I pulled out a map to occupy myself: Yes, I was the one who found the typo, but I was laying low on this topic. Still bothered by the SUV rollover I came upon three days ago high in the Bighorn National Park.
The lone occupant of the vehicle, a Jordanian student working at a park resort for the summer, had multiple and truly grave injuries -- fractures, gashes, internal bleeding that was bloating his belly.
Although successive people held his hand and tried to encourage him -- and a passing doctor and EMT specialist did all they could -- what he really needed was an operating room, quick. So he lay in agony alongside the road for almost two hours until an ambulance arrived from a town 30 miles down below and carried him to a patch of road that was flat and open enough for a medevac helicopter to put down. As for the rodeo action, for me it was like expecting to see the Yankees and getting the Newark Bears -- not even a€?single-Aa€? ball.
Many lassoes were flung but few calves were roped, barrels mostly got knocked over in the circle-the-barrels horse races, and nearly every cowboy immediately got bounced off the bucking broncos and bulls.
The most fun of the night was when they invited all kids 12 and under to the arena floor to win a prize for snatching ribbons ribbons tied to the tails of three calves running loose. I was hoping the boy, who appeared bright enough to do it, would remind him that New Hampshire was one of the original colonies, but maybe he was too polite. The Testicle Festival near Missoula, Mont., is in mid-August this year, and I'll be long gone. So many bikers around the South Dakota-Montana-Wyoming junction that everyone's a€?quit waving. The road west through the Lolo Pass into the Bitterroot Mountains overlies, in part, the path of the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1805-06. For me, to travel over the same ground covered by these 32 brave and resourceful men (never forgetting the remarkable Sacajewea with her baby) is an electric experience. For me, to drive along this pathway -- now Route 12 -- was a privilege and an honor I can't properly put into words. The journals of Lewis and Clark are among the great American documents and the best kind of adventure tale -- a true story experienced by people we hope we could emulate.
Two of them were in a motel in Grand Island, Neb., two in a passing car in South Dakota and one in a roadside softball game in Nevada.
True, I haven't gone through any real cities, but I'm wracking my brain and I can't recall seeing any other African-Americans. In the category of What Else Is New?: a€?In Riggins, Idaho, a rough-feeling former mining town on the Salmon River, now a a€?summer rafting center, a 50-ish tourist I'd seen an hour earlier strolling on the street a€?lurches away from the Salmon Inn, a billiards joint that sells beer and pizza.
Rolled my bike out of my brother-in-law's San Diego garage, reset the odometer to zero from the 5,060 miles recorded on the westbound leg, and I'm off! The terrain turns bleak just a handful of miles east of San Diego: Barrenness, rock piles, occasional scrawny bushes. In this visual monotony, the mind drifts and I recall driving past a menacing looking blockhouse of a bar in San Diego that had a foot-square white sign on its door. From Yuma east to Tucson is Moon-like landscape with scrub brush and mountains in the distance.
Had the joy, in the far outskirts of Phoenix, of spending eight hours or so talking with Bil Canfield, the best cartoonist The Star-Ledger and before that The Newark Evening News, ever had. Drove -- and drove some more -- east through the startling sprawl that is Phoenix and into the Pinal Mountains. I drove nearly all the way across New Mexico staring at the a€?skies: Fortunately, the straightness of Interstate 10 let me do it without a€?wrecking. I know it's a vestige of my time in the military, but I have a great a€?aversion to people in uniforms. Well, this strip above the Mexican border-- from California across to Texas -- is positively crawling with uniforms. You see them in McDonald's, they're racing around in trucks, they're in helicopters scouring the desert, they're at random checkpoints miles north of the border. The waitress was a bubbly local girl named Cindy who was pleasant enough but had a voice so shrill it pierced to the bone. There's a lot of guys in these parts driving pickup trucks in what I would call a hostile manner.
The 140 miles of Route 180 north from El Paso to the Guadelupe Mountains National Park are little-traveled but gorgeous. I left the bike on the shoulder of the highway and walked off 100 feet to try capturing the scene with my camera.
He gives me the exact mileages, tells me how long it'll take to get there, says where to turn en route and notes that there's 18 miles of construction along the way but it shouldn't slow me down. The sky heading north into West Texas was all bright and blue except for one dark patch, which grew larger as I rolled onward As the black area expanded I could see lightning strikes and columns of rain in its core. I sped up -- to 90 mph at one point -- figuring I would outrun it or outflank it, but the storm always stayed directly before me. While I was struggling to put a tarp over the bike, a blocky lady sheriff in a gray-panted uniform ran out of the diner to her cruiser.
I covered my bike, took a photo of the nastiest looking sky I've ever seen and sprinted to the safety of the diner. The young fellow, wearing a Texas Tech T-shirt, brushed dead flies off my table next to the front window. Half a dozen were bouncing against the window pane and others were flitting on and off about every surface in the place. I ordered a coffee and burger and waited, taking comfort in being in a safe place with a kid who seemed to understand weather conditions I didn't. In another few minutes I gave up trying to clear my helmet visor by hand: I lifted it and took the rain in my face. I couldn't judge which way the storm was traveling, so there was no evasive actiona€?to take. I spent the better part of one day crossing the length of Oklahoma east to west with a 30 mph blow going on. Finally, Cheryl got them all up and busy, filling sugar bowls and wiping down chairs in advance of lunch, and I left.
So many bikers around the South Dakota-Montana-Wyoming junction that everyone's quit waving.
I'm saving one Butte mystery for another visit: How a bar in a blue-collar neighborhood next to the pitmine got the name Helsinki Yacht Club.
I get the impression a lot of folks out here don't much care for Easterners, or maybe it's just me personally they don't like.
In the category of What Else Is New?: In Riggins, Idaho, a rough-feeling former mining town on the Salmon River, now a summer rafting center, a 50-ish tourist I'd seen an hour earlier strolling on the street lurches away from the Salmon Inn, a billiards joint that sells beer and pizza.
A A  Had the joy, in the far outskirts of Phoenix, of spending eight hours or so talking with Bil Canfield, the best cartoonist The Star-Ledger and before that The Newark Evening News, ever had.
A A A  Drove -- and drove some more -- east through the startling sprawl that is Phoenix and into the Pinal Mountains. A A A  I drove nearly all the way across New Mexico staring at the skies: Fortunately, the straightness of Interstate 10 let me do it without wrecking. A A  I know it's a vestige of my time in the military, but I have a great aversion to people in uniforms. A A  The waitress was a bubbly local girl named Cindy who was pleasant enough but had a voice so shrill it pierced to the bone.
A A  There's a lot of guys in these parts driving pickup trucks in what I would call a hostile manner. A A  The 140 miles of Route 180 north from El Paso to the Guadelupe Mountains National Park are little-traveled but gorgeous. A A  I left the bike on the shoulder of the highway and walked off 100 feet to try capturing the scene with my camera.
Schumacher savours his elevation to the status of legend BY KEVIN EASON DARKNESS had fallen when Michael Schumacher climbed on to the pit wall and triggered a blitz of a thousand flashguns as he danced a precarious jig of joy.
BlackWater Team, lead by owners Alexander Zaytsev, Andreas Savvidis and Maxim Merzlikin with tactician Konstantin Besputin, will join the line-up for the 2016 RC44 World Championship in Sotogrande next month.
The team's first taste of RC44 racing came in 2015 at the RC44 Valletta Cup when Russian Olympic sailor Ekaterina Skudina introduced Alexander Zaytsev and Andreas Savvidi to the Class.
With a slightly different set-up to most of the other crews, BlackWater Team will share the fleet racing helm duties between Zaytsev and friends from Skolkovo Sailing Club Andreas Savvidis and Maxim Merzlikin. BlackWater Team will also be drawing on the advice of previous RUS 7 Anyway Anyday owner, Krill Podolski, whose generous offer of the boat and support of Maxim Merzlikin was the spark that started the team on their dream path to RC44 racing.
Lining up on the starting grid for the 2016 World Championship, from the 11th - 15th May, alongside some of the most experienced teams in the fleet. The RC44 Portsmouth Cup announce world-class specialist boatyard, Premier Endeavour Quay, will be the provider of the event technical base at the UK event. The third stop on the global RC44 Championship Tour, the RC44 Portsmouth Cup takes place between the 13th and 17th July 2016 and will be the first time this prestigious high performance one-design racing class will stage an event in the UK. Premier Endeavour Quay is a specialist boatyard, situated in Premier's Gosport Marina on the western shore of Portsmouth Harbour, and a short distance away from the world famous sailing venues of the Solent and Cowes, Isle of Wight.
Tim Newell, Boatyard Manager at Premier Endeavour Quay, commented, "The RC44 Class is extremely prestigious and we are delighted to be able to host them in July 2016. After an outstanding debut onto the RC44 circuit in 2015, Yachting Events Ltd has today confirmed the fleet will return to Malta for the spectacular grand final of the 2016 Championship Tour. Further establishing their position as a prominent destination in the world of professional yacht racing, today’s announcement also confirmed that the 2016 Yacht Racing Forum, the leading annual conference for the business of sailing and yacht racing, will also be hosted in Malta from the 28 - 29 November. Built on a peninsula in one of the world’s largest and deepest natural harbours, this historic city on the East coast of Malta will offer the sailors a thrilling end to the season.
If an Autumn finale in the Mediterranean conjures up images of balmy sun drenched days, think again. It's a class that encapsulates futuristic thoughts, competitiveness afloat, a warm atmosphere ashore and a unique setting where sponsorship through sailing works. I’m a horrible judge, I live my life by my gut instinct rather than the rules, so I could never have made it on the jury.
A long time ago, and probably one of the smartest things I ever did in the sport, was that I decided I didn't want to be an event organiser.
I see it all around the world, someone doing my job afraid to make a decision on the water because they are worried how they will look when they hit the dock.Those are the people that should take up golf. It may seem an age since the final horn sounded at the RC44 Bermuda Cup, the opening event of the 2016 season, but fear not - in just a few weeks’ time the teams will be back in action for one of the most important events on the 2016 racing calendar, the RC44 World Championship in Sotogrande Spain.
On the dock Vladimir Liubomirov and Vladimir Prosikhin are the best of friends, but out on the water their racing teams, Bronenosec Sailing Team and Team Nika, have emerged as the fleets biggest rivals. After winning both the 2015 World and Fleet Racing Championship title it is easy to assume Team Nika are this years dominant team, but if you think that makes them super confident for 2016, think again.
After the RC44 Bermuda Cup kicked off the season, it is clear that Vladimir Liubomirov and his Bronenosec Sailing Team fancy their chances.
After winning the 2015 match racing crown Lubomirov’s team continued to obliterate the opposition winning five out of six of their matches in Bermuda.
For round two in Sotogrande the pressure will be on defending World Champion Team Nika as Bronenosec Sailing Team establish themselves as the chief thorn in their old friends side.
Team CEEREF burst back on to the 2016 leaderboard with a string of outstanding results in the opening races of the RC44 Bermuda Cup.
Over the past five years John Bassadone’s Peninsula Petroleum Sailing Team have had checkered results table. The RC44 fleet is about as competitive as you can get in the world of professional racing and the benchmark team for the past nine years has been Chris Bake’s Team Aqua. But a tough year in 2015 saw their four year fleet racing winning streak broken with a third place finish.
Shaking off the winter hibernation in style, the RC44 Bermuda Cup was a glamorous start to 2016 season. We caught up with 1984 Los Angeles Olympic gold medallist and team Katusha’s coach, Steve Erickson, to get the lowdown on the Bermudan race track. Over the four days of fleet racing the wind ranged from 0 knots - with limp flags and the teams held ashore, to a blustery - hold on to your hats - 25 knots with a short sharp chop that was brutal for the crews hiking the physical RC44 boats. The only opportunity for reflection came in the final few days of racing, when the teams had been in Bermuda for eight days, and the wind finally settled into a direction they had seen before. Team Aqua and Bronenosec Sailing Team finished the RC44 Bermuda Cup in first and second respectively. And the challenge only gets harder for the developing Katusha team as the depth of experience in the fleet grows year-on-year. The RC44 Championship Tour now looks ahead to the 2016 World Championship event in Sotogrande Spain from the 11 - 15 May. Bermuda's Great Sound threw everything it could at the RC44 fleet for the first round of the 2016 Championship Tour. My dad used to play ice hockey and mum is a runner, I’m the first generation of sailor in my family.
Sailing is a big past time in Sweden, lots of people do it for pleasure, but its not a big sport. I only managed to complete a year at Stockholm School of Economics before I was kicked out. Getting the call to say I had made the cut to be in the Red Bull Youth America’s Cup was probably one of my protest moments. We have all sailed together in the past too which is good and we have all come into the programme from similar paths. Conditions on the final day of competition on Bermuda’s Great Sound looked marginal initially with a near glass out mid-morning. A disappointing penultimate day of racing had seen Bronenosec drop off the leaderboard, but today in the difficult light conditions the Russian team’s tactician, Michele Ivaldi, seemed to have a direct line to the wind gods. Italian navigators are typically good at these conditions which Ivaldi compared not with those typical of Mediterranean Italy, but of an Italian lake.
John Bassadone’s Peninsula Petroleum Sailing Team, which has another renowned Italian tactician, Vasco Vascotto, also had a solid day, posting a 2-3. Their prospects were looking better in race two when they pulled out an extraordinary lead on the first beat.


The margin between the leaders has impressively remained tight throughout the four days of fleet racing at the RC44 Bermuda Cup. The RC44s now leave the 35th America’s Cup venue bound for the RC44 Sotogrande World Championship in May.
Despite near perfect conditions for racing on Bermuda’s Great Sound, the penultimate day of the RC44 Bermuda Cup was one of snakes and ladders, the smallest mistakes having crippling consequences.
The first race saw Bronenosec Sailing Team take an early lead, ahead at the top mark and perpetually mixing it with arch-rival Team Nika. Race two saw Artemis Racing benefitting from going hard right on the first beat to round the top mark in first, pulling out a massive lead by the finish.
His Italian tactician, Francesco Bruni, said that the team prefer 14-16 knot shifty conditions like they had today. Mustafa Ingham, who is still trialling to be a grinder for Team Bermuda, got to sail on Artemis Racing. With just six points separating first to fourth and three races scheduled for tomorrow, the outcome of the RC44 Bermuda Cup remains far from certain.
His Italian tactician, Francesco Bruni, said that the team prefer 14-16 knot shifty conditions as they had today.
Mustafa Ingham, who is still trialling to be a grinder for Team Bermuda, got to sail on Artemis Racing in today’s first race. Demonstrating that the crews have lost none of their competitiveness over the winter break, at the end of day two of fleet racing at the RC44 Bermuda Cup, the top two boats are tied on points and just two points separating the top three. Great Sound took on yet another personality today as a front rolled over Bermuda - chillier, more overcast and with shifty winds, which typically were in the early 20s and kicked up a short chop. In the first race Team CEEREF was mid-fleet around the top mark, but made gains gybing early on the first run and was up to second by the time at the second weather mark rounding, pulling ahead on the final leg. Race two saw her have a stronger first beat, rounding the top mark second behind John Bassadone’s Peninsula Petroleum Sailing Team. Stead said that the boat was going well upwind thanks to a few tweaks to the rig they have made. Team Nika, the defending fleet racing champion has had a slow start to this regatta, starting today in unfamiliar territory - the bottom half of the fleet. Their races were not flawless – attempting to shoot the top mark in race one, they came to a standstill, fouling Bronenosec Sailing Team and picking up a penalty.
To make amends Lah offered the use of his RC44 to Artemis Racing for the rest of the day, but they declined. The hole in Artemis Racing is not small – an upside down triangle immediately below the gunnel on the port side two thirds of the way back from the bow, its top side measures 1m across.
Surprisingly after sitting out the rest of race one, Team CEEREF rallied, impressively posting a 1-3-1. On day one of the RC44 Bermuda Cup, there was sun, flat water and around 20 knots of wind, gusting into the high 20s by the close of play on Bermuda’s Great Sound. Despite scoring the most wins today, Bronenosec was the guilty party in a pre-start collision with Peninsula Petroleum Sailing Team during the first cross of the first race of their season for which they were docked two points. Coming into the line it was marginal that Artemis Racing could make her penalty turn before Katusha finished. While his team has a base in Bermuda, this is the first occasion Törnqvist has ever visited Bermuda. Tomorrow will be the first of four days of fleet racing at the RC44 Bermuda Cup with a first warning signal scheduled for 1200 local time. The Red Bull Youth America’s Cup will take place over 13-22 June 2017 and each RBYAC team will comprise six crew, each of whom must be 19 or under 25 on 31 December 2017. Recruitment for Team Bermuda started last summer and, since then, the initial group of 100 has been whittled down to 30 following a series of training camps.
Their next training camp will take place over Easter when the candidates will get their first taste of sailing on board some newly acquired Nacra 17 catamarans. As Jane Savage, Chair of the Committee of the RBYAC Team Bermuda and past Commodore of the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club, explains, the choice of the Nacra 17 was one of legacy. From its relatively small population of 66,000, Bermuda fielded 49er sailors Jesse and Zander Kirkland, at the London 2012 Olympics, finishing 19th.
For example, one Team Bermuda hopeful is Mustafa Ingham, who is a soccer player and athlete, although he has sailed a few dinghies. A large group, about 35 seconds later, had Terenzo Bozzone (NZL), Tim Don (GBR), Nils Frommhols (ALE), among others. The last step was to make a move on Frodeno, who tried to match his pace, but got dropped before the 10km mark. In 2015, the race will be held in Austria, on the challenging course of the Ironman 70.3 Zell am See-Kaprun. Find out more about your rights as a buyer - opens in a new window or tab and exceptions - opens in a new window or tab.
Not only were frescoes of rhinos, horses and lions over 30,000 years old found in a cave in the Ardeche on Dec. Although theya€™re probably right, ita€™s worth noting that these same specialists used similar criteria to ascribe the animals of Chauvet to the same period - until carbon 14 results pushed their age back over 10,000 years, shattering the notion that prehistoric art had evolved linearly, like technologies. In France, the Ministry of Culture placed its new treasure under the most draconian protection, despite the fact that the country already has the lion's share of Paleolithic art. Standing right in front of some of the most spectacular engravings, the Secretary of State for Culture dismissed them as being nothing more than a€?childrena€™s doodlesa€? a€“ whereupon the students from Foz CA?aa€™s high school turned the official into a laughing-stock by presenting him with a schist slab covered with their own scribblings4.
It's now or never, the author of the following article decided in April 1995, as he set out to evaluate the engravings, find out the truth, and propose solutions. My 13-year old son and I had flown to Porto in Portugal and driven far up the Douro valley into the northeastern mountains, prepared to maneuver around obstructions whether by negotiation or hiking through the back door. Still, here was our first encounter with the powers that be, so I took this opportunity to probe, and get a first step up the hierarchical ladder. So I explained how Sebastian and I had come so far to see the Paleolithic glories that Portugal would be displaying with pride, spoke of credentials, and placed us (and our pen) in his hands. Still, we had our bearings, and drove off into the late afternoon to penetrate the heart of the forbidden zone. We were getting closer, very close now, and could spy loops of a trail among the folds of a distant ridge. And here too was the arena where one of the greatest feuds between discoverers and custodians of the past had exploded since the conflict between Othniel Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope over the fossils of extinct giants in Sioux territory during Custer's battles. With swifts swirling in up-drafts around our heads, we scrambled and picked our way among sheer precipices and ledges. Its tight horseshoe of cliffs and rubble made the perfect hiding place for our car and tent from the gray guards roaming the surrounding crests with binoculars. Sebastian snuggled tighter into his sleeping bag, so I set out to reconnoiter alone, systematically working quadrants and contours between our quarry at Fariseu and Piscos brook. Somewhere among the jumble of a thousand rock faces would be an ancient image - perhaps masked by lichen or so faint one had to trace its parts before seeing it whole. The numbed waters suddenly spangled upstream with glitter and so many flowery white tresses of water plants that the currents looked like sudsy pastures.
After all the noisy demonstrations against the dam in Lisbon, how were they to know how much clout a nosy prehistorian might have?
Whatever was going to happen to him afterwards in the backwater of Portuguese archaeology had surely been inconsequential, since experience proved that nobody made much fuss over sites that were out-of-sight and out-of-mind - especially with archaeologists beholding to dam-builders and political appointees for access and records. According to the insinuations, he could have continued his documentation right up to the headwaters as his masters worked their way upstream step by step. I sensed that this crowd felt their doctor deserved to be the one to tell fellow archaeologists that they might as well ask to visit Atlantis.
Sure enough, there was the 12 year-old Pocinho dam sweeping the valley with a clean curtain.14 But the silos of this former construction site's cement plant were speckled with rust, the ranks of its offices and dormitories were deserted and almost every window was broken. Fortunately, Sebastian was becoming ever more engrossed in Verne's book, spelunking towards the planet's core, so I began to gravitate down halls for exercise and companionship, coming to the door of the room where the secretary was braiding the blind's cord while two laconic draftsmen labored over tracings of horses, ibexes and aurochs.
It has been insinuated that Rebanda probably discovered Rock 1 at Canada do Inferno as early as November 1991.18 In Dec. So, quixotically, he had proposed building a dry-dock around the outcropping, and, failing that, underwater exploration. If so, the power utility may have known of incredibly rich sites years before the first blueprint for the new dam!
Clottes was the worlda€™s reigning prehistorian a€“ the man who had risen to the pinnacle of the French archaeological establishment and held the only keys to the holy grail of art caves - the unbelievably strong and ancient Grotte Chauvet. After inspecting the 15% of the art that remained above water at the site in the rising dama€™s shadow, because the EDP had hardly felt it necessary to lower the water for the visit of the foreigner sent by the now antagonistic IPPAR, Clottes stepped before a highly polarized press corps. The dam-builders and their government backers felt vindicated while much of Portuguese public was crestfallen or furious.
The dam had become a poisonous political issue in a national election with the President and his fellow Socialists attacking the center-right Prime Minister for its willingness to sacrifice both the nationa€™s patrimony and vineyards to a flaky building scheme.
As if the owners of villas built around the new lake would really allow it to be drained 100 meters to its bottom - where almost all of the known panels would soon be drowned a€“ once every decade!
Suddenly, the Portuguese public felt that the dam-builders were not only destroying the nationa€™s most ancient claim to world grandeur and civilization, but that they were in league with a man who would never have been so cavalier with Paleolithic masterpieces in his own country!
When I later asked Portuguese archaeologists if they were going to attend an up-coming conference organized by Clottes, they recoiled. First, because Clottesa€™ retinue of hosts, diplomats and reporters was rushing him and putting him in a bind a€“ even if his stature, pride, and role as UNESCOa€™s expert on rock art had led him into it. They even echoed his faith in getting dam operators to regularly empty the vast lake a€“ despite the glaring evidence of the EDPa€™s behavior at CA?a itself. No sooner had Clottes triggered a public outcry, than he began to explain away his tepid defense of the CA?aa€™s importance by saying that he had not been shown enough art to form a true idea of the valleya€™s richness.35 But the truth is, he was shown Rebandaa€™s trove of drawings from submerged sections and sites upstream36 and could have been more demanding.
After all it was a lot of money, the government was inflexible, the controversy had become a campaign issue a€“ which meant that his advice would seem like foreign meddling - and the elections were still far off. When, in fact, the long-term rights for the cave in France would belong to its Ministry of Culture a€“ which was already attacking its discoverer, Chauvet, for the pittance hea€™d received for his pictures. But I could hardly hold my tongue: why on earth had he invited people from this caste of academics back into his life - and the valley - when at least one of them had apparently abused him?
The picture was compelling: SimAµes and her husband angelically insisting that the world must be told, while the hireling screamed demonically over the fire, accusing university archaeologists of trying to hog the credit yet again. If Rebanda had known SimAµes and Jaffe were going to paint him into a corner, wouldn't he have raced for the exit? Both Rebanda and SimAµes de Abreu could have been traitors and saviors at once, and as long as I was with this archaeologist, I felt bound to encourage the savior in him. It must have seemed like an insult to him after all his efforts, so with an anarchic gesture, he announced, what the hell, he'd photocopy their fax when it came, so we could enter a second. Huge black derricks hulked atop the dam beside a row of gate-lifting pistons that looked like Big Berthas.
We bagged the warning or omen, caught and released a giant water beetle - the kind that injects deliquescing enzymes into living frogs, then sucks out their juice - and worked our way along what was actually the upper tier of a disappearing cliff. When art panels are located in the CA?aa€™s side valleys, they are apparently concentrated on northern slopes.
I was a willing guide as we skewered corn kernels on hooks, lashed lines around a log and threw the lethal leashes into the dark.
They were a hundred yards apart, making perpetual rounds as they kept time clocks happy by cranking them every few paces with keys chained to the fence. It was probably his first job after military service, but he was intelligent enough to realize that hea€™d been hired as a pawn in a vast conspiracy to keep Portugal's greatest cultural wonders out of sight and out of mind, till they could be obliterated.
One, because any plan to remove the friezes not only meant assigning a value to them, but keeping the controversy alive. The mountainous dirt road forked, meandered and even skirted an imposing castle,51 but several classes of children were making the long dusty pilgrimage on foot while carloads of adults in their Sunday best made the excursion to see the only engravings to have escaped the censors - either because the site at Penascosa was so far from Lima Montiero's spyglass or because the valley was gentler here and had always been farmed. I hadn't passed the first olive tree when I happened upon a well-knapped hand-axe, and then another!
On-line commentary entitled a€?Some corrections about the CA?a petroglyphsa€? in TRACCE no. While Chauveta€™s name was given to the cave itself, the names of his co-discoverers were given to two of its large chambers. Mila SimAµes de Abreu and Ludwig Jaffe were the founders of the APAAR (AssociaA§ao Portuguesa de Arte e Arqueologia Rupestre), which has been a member of IFRAO (International Federation of Rock Art Organisations) since Sept. In an on-line commentary, Jaffe denounced what he perceived as a continuation of the scandal under new management: a€?In December 1994 IPPAR passed the responsibility for the rock art in the Coa valley to Mario Varela Gomes and Antonio Martinho Baptista. Their critics often subscribe to the doctrine that modern ethnographic evidence cannot be used to interpret ancient cultures. Although Bednarik was one of the earliest crusaders for CA?a - calling for the EDP to stop building the dam in Nov.
The leftist press and Portuguese archaeological milieu reacted with just as much reflection, ignoring both Bednarika€™s qualifiers and his pioneering role in organizing the world campaign to fight for the whole valleya€™s salvation (see Dossier CA?a p.
Of the 66 contributions written by individuals, not one is by Nelson Rebanda, whose ghost a€“ to anyone interested in intellectual property a€“ haunts every line. After the CA?a scandal served its purpose as an electoral issue that helped the Socialists to win power, the new government kept its campaign promise by protecting the CA?a Valley but used the goodwill engendered by the decision to blunt criticism while flooding other huge assemblages of rock art. 3; Catherine Vincent, writing in Le Monde on March 11, 1995, goes into much more detail about one particular vineyard, Ervamoira, that would have been lost, along with its exceptional Port wine.
The first was to prove that the engravings were not Paleolithic a€“ an effort that entrapped researchers who wanted to apply experimental direct-dating techniques.
I did have a deer bound in front of me on Route 80 in Pennsylvania but my horn-honking turned him. But these cornfields stretch outwards hundreds and hundreds of miles from here (Grand Island, Neb.). I think it's to find some little bit of company and comfort out among all the larger vehicles. Without that cover overhead, you're on open country roads getting soaked and -- worse -- sitting on a big piece of metal that attracts electrical charges. Forecast for the next four days where I'm going in Montana-Idaho is for the same temp, with chances of afternoon thunderstorms. The look of the Bighorn National Forest is austere, powerful, vast, a lot of rock faces with detritus heaps below. I was concerned the fuel injector wouldn't automatically adjust to these changes in altitude (4,500 feet on the high desert to 9,000 in the Bighorns), but it's purring wherever I take it. Rushmore the other day but didn't make the effort to go see it, which sounds vaguely anti-American even to me. It was hard traveling, especially to make a two-week 4,000-mile round trip like the Old Man did, as the lone driver.
But he did want us to see places maybe most kids didn't and I think he wanted to make us adventurous. The formula for making them would be: Take a sea of sand about 200 miles across, stir it up a bit so you get rounded, swelling waves, top it with tall grass, sprinkle lightly with black Angus cattle and every mile or so plunk down a windmill to draw water for the cattle. As I ate, dust clouds from the adjacent road being repaved swirled around the parking lot, a crushed root beer cup was whirling in irregular circles near the table, and in the distance, jagged lightning bolts among the dark clouds atop the Bighorns. I explained that my leather jacket wasn't for warmth, but for padding, in case I fell off the bike.
The last thing I am is a flag waver, but when the pennants of the rodeo's sponsors -- Coca-Cola, Dairy Queen, Pinnacle Bank, the U.S. Picking their way along Indian trails and bushwhacking through the towering evergreens, Lewis and Clark had no idea how deep this forest would be, only that the Pacific lay somewhere ahead. I stopped along the way to read every historical marker, each keying the location to a specific entry in the two expedition leaders' daily journal.
With this kind of light ahead, I think I'll need shades every morning till about 10:00 all the way home. Then the Imperial Valley, which is inhuman in its sterile, mass-production agriculture way. The landscape is all creosote bushes about 20 feet apart and occasional gray rock ridges sticking out of the dust like the dorsals of buried lizards. Who's more manly, Hulk Hogan or Mahatma Gandhi, who probably couldn't bench-press two Wheaties boxes on a stick but helped topple the British Empire? I assume folks come here to warm their old bones -- it gets to 115 degrees in summer -- and stretch their savings. The old copper mining towns of Miami and Globe have great potential for photos but the light was wrong and I couldn't wait for it to get right.
Billowing several thousand feet in the air, it a€?looks like the product of the largest explosion that ever was, but it a€?doesn't float away or change in any way.
The driver was from Utah -- and a look-alike for actor Charles Laughton -- who had doubled back to see if I needed help. If my bike had been disabled, he'd have committed himself to driving me 75 miles to arrange for repair, and he knew that. I veered off the road next to a small town's grain elevator, which I thought might give me some cover.
Its occupants turned out be a skinny kid in charge, who stood about six-foot-six, somebody working the kitchen, me, and about a thousand flies.
After about half an hour the kid said, "If you're goin' to Lubbock, you should be all right now.
I could still see a thin strip of blue sky and sunshine before me along the horizon, but raindrops began pelting my windshield.
Hailstones began to mix in with the rain, pellets about the size of peas ricocheting off my plastic windshield and helmet.
I was hanging off the right side of the seat and still had to tilt the bike a couple degrees in that direction to counter-act the northbound wind.
As I ate, dust clouds from the adjacent road being repaved swirled around the parking lot, a crushed root beer cup was whirling in irregular circles near the table, and in the distance,A  jagged lightning bolts among the dark clouds atop the Bighorns.
Someone has popped him on the cheekbones as perfectly as as you can be punched -- pinpoint shots.
Billowing several thousand feet in the air, it looks like the product of the largest explosion that ever was, but it doesn't float away or change in any way. The Japanese Grand Prix had been over for more than an hour but still the stands were full as if his fans wanted to savour the victory yesterday just as much as he did.
BlackWater Team will have their work cut out if they are going to take on the likes of home team Peninsula Petroleum, defending World Champion Team Nika and the benchmark crew, Team Aqua, who have the iconic RC44 golden wheels back onboard after winning the opening event of the season in Bermuda in March. It would be fantastic to start showing good results in some races, but the priority will be to slowly gain all the experience we can throughout the year," said team manager and grinder onboard Viktor Filippov. The yard has been selected by Teamorigin Events, the host organiser of the RC44 UK event, due to its ideal location and extensive facilities and experience. With prevailing westerly breeze and racing against the backdrop of the city’s magnificent fortress. Last year Malta challenged the RC44 Valletta Cup competitors to the maximum with the crews taking on gale force winds and some of the biggest waves they have ever encountered in their slender one designs. We at Yachting Events are humbled and equally delighted that the RC44 Class has entrusted us with organising the final event in their 2016 calendar.
But for all of you out there that don’t, let me introduce one of the legends of the RC44 Class.
I used to watch the people running races, acting like they were gods and I decided it wasn't right.
That said I work closely with juries and umpires and there is no question that it is the people that make the job for me. You can have a week of rubbish wind and an extremely tough regatta but it’s still fun because of the people you work with. The performance analysis for race boats has become a big part of his work, being with Alvimedica in the last Volvo Ocean Race has really given him a niche. However, a costly two point penalty saw Team Nika finish ahead of them in the overall standings. With the rest of the fleet on the back foot after the winter break Igor Lah’s team lead by tactician Adrian Stead are challenging for the podium and rattling a few cages within the fleet. A challenge for the golden wheels in 2014, finishing the year as runner up to the mighty Team Aqua, Peninsula Petroleum fell short of expectation in 2015 only managing a fifth. Five times fleet racing champions and three times match racing champions the team has had an almost faultless run of luck.
An event win in Bermuda was a strong step up in gear for 2016 but the real test is still to come with the illusive RC44 World Championship. But if they were corralled by the five or six other boats who also had a good start, they tended to miss the first shift or two in the opening moments of the race, trying to out-do one another on boat speed.
With a breeze ranging from 5 -25 knots and a race track full of passing lanes we round-up all the action from a week of action-packed racing. So when I was about nine or ten my parents decided that I should learn to sail, or at least how to carry myself on the water, so I joined a sailing academy. My little sister started sailing but to be honest she probably stopped because of me - I'm a bit too competitive.
When I was 15 years old going into high school instead of following down the sailing route I almost went to a music academy. There was a massive selection process, loads of guys entered it, so to get the call that I was in the team was amazing.
For everyone doing their sport as a hobby you always wish you could to do it professionally and the Youth America’s Cup gave me a little taste of this.
After a postponement ashore, the first warning signal was finally sounded at 1410 and PRO Peter Reggio just managed to lay on two races in a shifty, patchy breeze that rarely exceeded five knots. But it was less good for Artemis Racing and Francesco Bruni, despite one extraordinary opportunity that emerged on the first run of the second race when the boats at the back of the fleet were able to sail some 20-30 degrees lower than the boats ahead.
With a spectator fleet out in force, once again the course created some tactical head scratching with the left frequently favoured in terms of angle, but the right better for pressure. Thanks to her 1-3-6 scoreline today she leads going into the final day of racing with a four point advantage.
But on the next lap Team Aqua had pulled ahead and went on to claim a comfortable first win of the day with Team Nika beating Bronenosec in the photo finish for second. There was some drama after the first top mark rounding when, soon after hoisting, the scarlet spinnaker on Alexander Novoselov’s Katusha ripped in half. In this Artemis Racing again looked strong, but it was Team Nika that rolled her on the first run and thereafter hung on to take the day’s final bullet. There were good opportunities upwind, a lot of shifts - 20° over the course and that certainly played a role in the results.
Their 7-1-2 scoreline he felt should have been 7-1-1, but “we made a mistake - at the top mark we were leading and we were last at the gate.
We still need to improve our starts – we are a little bit too conservative on the line. The result was some highly tactical beats followed by some hang-on for dear life, faster than a speeding bullet downwind legs. Following its two bullets yesterday, the Slovenian crew continued its winning streak today, claiming the first two races. Coming into the top mark with rights on the second beat, she pulled ahead and hung on all the way to the finish. Everything is as it should be!” beamed Igor Lah once ashore at the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club. This she managed on the first beat, by edging ahead out to the left and then crossing ahead of everyone on port after she’d tacked back.
Similary a fourth place for Team CEEREF left her third overall, two points adrift of Team Aqua and Bronenosec Sailing Team, the joint leaders after seven races, demonstrating just how close competition is here on Bermuda’s Great Sound. While yesterday the wind was 20+ knots, conditions felt more summery today with the wind just about gusting to 15 knots, but more regularly 10. Scoring 2-3-1-3 saw her return to the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club leading, two points clear of Vladimir Liubomirov's Bronenosec Sailing Team.
However as was the case yesterday, there was drama from the outset, when, soon after the start, a major collision occurred between Artemis Racing and Team CEEREF. Once ashore, Team CEEREF tactician Adrian Stead was off to buy the local tipple, Gosling's rum, in quantity for the Swedes. Despite being disqualified from the first race and receiving a three point penalty for the collision, this left them fourth overall, one point behind Artemis Racing.
As a result the Russian team came close to being unbeaten, only toppled in the final flight against Artemis Racing after a jammed halyard prevented them from hoisting their spinnaker on the final run. The latter, on which Andy Horton calls tactics, planted a penalty on Artemis coming into the start line, but, it was the Swedish team that led around the race track. In the event, during their turn the mainsheet became trapped around one of the wheels causing them to lose steering. We made a last minute, throw-the-helm-over, full speed, spinnaker up, ripping along crash gybe. Ambitiously, they are to race the same foiling AC45 catamarans currently being used for the America’s Cup World Series. The podium dominated by the ITU athletes showed that a new era is approaching for long distance events.
If you reside in an EU member state besides UK, import VAT on this purchase is not recoverable. 18th1, but Europea€™s biggest open-air gallery of Paleolithic animals was reported just a month earlier in the CA?a Valley of northeastern Portugal2.
Regardless of how old the CA?aa€™s art turns out to be, it is unique in its richness above ground and astonishing in its illustrations of movement - with animals tossing their heads with the same stop-action dynamism found at Chauvet and only millennia later in photography and Futurist painting. The Chauvet Cavea€™s prehistoric bestiary was proudly splashed across magazines around the world.
Soon, the guard turned into a regular lad, wrote down the chief engineer's name and pointed beyond the ramp-laced moonscape - into the wilderness.
In this walled garden, the conflicting passions of archaeologists had exploded around a campfire, set a president and prime minister against each other, and cowed the emissaries of UNESCO. Lizards skidded into fissures, a rusty blade wedged in a nook beside a sliver of cliff garden spoke of an emigrant who had never returned, but the walls seemed barren.
Over and over again, the scene seemed set, the rock stretched, but its lines were just fractals. I yanked myself up to a platform less than a step wide and a ten-foot long cow - an auroch!


By holding the animal's form and movement vividly in mind, the maker had poured himself into its body and experienced a power beyond abstraction, beyond even tool-making, to thrill to the new power of passing through the looking-glass into another being.
A stream, running pure as its springs over crisp cresses between alternating bull rushes and crags, almost made it to the river unaltered, but met it just below the threshold and sank into an estuary.
We had arrived at Pandemonium and would try to insinuate ourselves into an audience with the Chief Engineer himself.
Only one was so spotless and redolent of perks, though, with its rolled lawn incongruous in the desert, that we knew right where to head among forking roads. I was hardly surprised when these well-fed pros passed the buck to the only gaunt and partially toothless fellow traveler among them.
So they decided to play it safe by dumping me on their pet nemesis, the organizationa€™s own archaeological a€?hirelinga€?, Dr. He could have added to his hoard of exclusive photos and measurements, imposed interpretations, and generally lorded it over his peers - for who could have naysayed him with his treasures locked a hundred meters deep in so many great watery safes?10 And to think that all the dam-builders' pet archaeologist and his accommodating superiors at the Portuguese Institute for Architectural and Archaeological Heritage (IPPAR)11 in Lisbon - to whom Rebanda had reported his discoveries at least twice12 - had had to do to pull off this economically patriotic (not to say mutually beneficial) stunt was keep their mouths shut!
After having suffered at the hands of his mentor, Professor Jorge, why had Rebanda put himself at the mercy of two similar academics and representatives of an international body to boot - Mila SimAµes de Abreu and her archaeologist husband, Ludwig Jaffe, who represented the International Federation of Rock Art Organizations (IFRAO)? At least such nuisances would keep him from getting up to more mischief by turning up new discoveries. But, finally, a secretary answered my summons and let me into a vestibule empty except for a display of postcard-sized photographs of some of the engravings, and a cartoon caricaturing the scandal - which I reckoned had been knowingly posted to co-opt criticism. I couldn't quite make out the man's features through the crack, but it was obvious he was gushing recriminations - and no wonder: the entire archaeological profession had ganged up on the pariah. We all knew I had crossed a threshold, but, after all, I had paid my dues, and in any case, I padded off to the foyer again. Yet they'd prattled to the press that they had found the art a year ago, and then more like two years ago, and now, word had it, a€?onlya€? three years ago25 - when it was always somehow too late to stop the process leading up to construction, which had only started in September a€™94.26 The gall!
Instantly, I whipped out paper and scribbled the fastest copy of the main map that my hand could draw. After SimAµes de Abreu and Jaffe had unleashed the scandal by revealing the conspiracy to flood Europea€™s richest assemblage of open-air Paleolithic art, the IPPAR and Portuguese Ministry of Culture had scrambled to get their own expert witness a€“ and, in a further twist, had asked UNESCO to recommend an expert to challenge the power companya€™s growing efforts to prove the art wasna€™t Paleolithic but recent27 a€“ in which case, the EDP seemed to think that the public would drop the subject as being the relatively recent work of peasants drawing their cows. For all their heightened sensitivity to having CA?aa€™s fate evaluated by a foreigner, the Portuguese press viewed Clottes as a referee and expected a verdict. Then, as fate would have it, Clottes was back in the headlines within the week, announcing drastic measures to protect Francea€™s new crown jewel, Chauvet. And as if anyone could even find new art during the two weeks a lake might be emptied (every hundred years) while everything was coated with algae and grime!
Opposition editorialists had a field day with Clottesa€™ apparent hypocrisy and dismissiveness towards Portugal - and demonstrators flooded the streets. Two, because people are often driven to produce their greatest work and worst mistakes by similar drives. Rebanda was even fooling himself on this score, I thought - after all, the Foz CA?a photographs would probably end up belonging to Portugala€™s own ministry or even the EDP. Scientists - like lawyers - ply an adversarial trade, but the chance to put Portugal into the archaeological heavens a€“ and to boost their own reputations with it - had given many researchers more ulterior motives than usual. Personally, I couldn't see anybody bedding down for the night and traipsing out the next morning with people who had announced that they were going to expose him.
In essence, my heart a€“ if not my mind - had taken his side for the moment; he was the underdog, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I was concerned that he might even attempt suicide. If I didn't mind coming back at 9 the next morning, he apologized, the approval should be there.
But basically the dam was a streamlined machine without much need for local intervention or maintenance.
My unequivocal certification of their global importance only made him uneasier, as he didn't know whether to feel flattered or upset.
We peered into a dovecot, a squat white tower lined inside with empty compartments like a city after a plague. Suddenly, a deeply hammered auroch on the rock stood out boldly as a road sign - alerting us to an entire herd.
The geology, erosion, & silica skins protecting engravings all seem similar on both slopes, so I theorize that this positioning is not simply a taphonomic illusion created by the disappearance of engravings on the southern slopes. I wasn't expecting anything when I ambled down at dawn, but there it was: a big mound under the bank! From what I could tell, even his draftsmen had decided to take the day off 49, once they realized the coast was clear.
By God, I thought, if the flooders don't save them, I hope the townspeople storm the valley!
If the guards hadn't been under strict orders not to sell admissions, they'd have made a killing; but then any financial association with the art is anathema to the dammers: the next thing they knew, they'd have a revolt on their hands! And like the first guard, when he realized that I had somehow gotten authorization despite my evident opposition to the reservoir, he let out his pent-up indignation - for we were insiders. As we passed the threshold between the deadened depths and virgin current with its billowing water-foliage, we had to skirt and climb over a sheer wall blocking the side-valleya€™s entrance. The intertwined couple, spanning the length of a single real horse, was still necking in Eden after twenty millennia.
Rock Art and the CA?a Valley Archaeological Park: A case study in the preservation of Portugal's prehistoric parietal heritage. Although it is true that one must be extremely circumspect about doing so, such evidence often opens new perspectives that have more in common with the subsistence systems of ancient cultures than does our own, and the two authors showed considerable originality and courage in exploring it.
1994 - most Portuguese archaeologists with access to the CA?a sites now shun him as thoroughly as they do Clottes and Rebanda. 539, for a resolution, written in defense of CA?a, by Bednarik, in a book filled with vitriole against him).
These retractions confirmed that some of ZilhA?oa€™s criticisms of the direct dating attempts were well founded, but dona€™t necessarily reflect on other matters raised in his disputes with Bednarik and Jaffe. In the English sections, Jorge generously credits numerous associates and generations of Portuguese prehistorians by full name, while studiously avoiding any mention of Rebanda except where it is unavoidable, and then only with his last name between brackets.
The second was to make casts of panels for a museum a€“ which may have damaged some panels. Driving through the puddles on the highway was a little unnerving but there were no overpasses for shelter, so I had to keep going.
Louis for Night 3, but otherwise it's been just the banter with waitresses and gas station folks. I got out the sturdy Pope Paul II church key someone gave me (OK, I bought it) and used it as a kind of giant screwdriver to tighten the fluid cover.
I drove hundreds of miles out of my way to get there because it was billed across the state as a hi-grade rodeo. They bolted and the kids chased them every which way, sprawling in the dirt and whatever else was on the ground. When I walked away from the bike to take photos I found a€?myself straining to get enough oxygen. Winter was approaching, and the party's hunters were having no success in finding game on the steep slopes of these unending woods.
Lassen, Calif., to visit with my buddy of five decades Ted and his wife Carolyn, then wrap it up with two broiling days down Veggie Valley (California's Route 5) to San Diego. Don't know if you have to bring your own water: I sure didn't pass over a flowing stream or see a lake for a couple hundred miles. Bil suffers from Blatt's Sydrome, wherein the body ages normally but the mind never makes it past 18 -- well, maybe 15 in Bil's case. The place bored me quickly: Only the cowboy hats distinguish this casino from the the East Coast brand. The pluses with a bike are limited to the physicality of the travel -- if you like that -- and a natural buzz from rolling along out in the open.
When I walked away from the bike to take photos I found myself straining to get enough oxygen. But with the BlackWater Team mantra "the impossible is possible" they are starting with a good attitude. Premier Endeavour Quay is one of the UK's leading facilities in terms of delivering support for major professional yacht race projects as well as private and professional refits. From my own stand-point, I would like to stop doing this before the boys tell me to stop (he laughs). But with the 2016 RC44 World Championship on their home waters and with owner John Bassadone back on the helm, the big question now is can they deliver after the short winter break and transform themselves into a serious threat for this years podium?
Despite their impressive history in the Class Team Aqua have never won a World Championship event. He will jump on any opportunity thrown his way and in this fleet there are a lot of experienced tacticians that can capitalise on any advantage.
This elevated Artemis Racing from seventh to second, but she subsequently lost this position on the next beat.
Team Aqua only had two results out of the top half of the fleet, in this lengthy 12 race series. After a new vinyl cover had been applied to the repaired section of hull shortly before racing this morning, the repair was difficult to spot. In this, Team CEEREF, in the wrong on port, T-boned Artemis Racing leaving the Swedish boat's topsides with a massive Slovenian bow-shaped hole in them. There their RC44 was hauled out and the boatbuilders set to work immediately to build a replacement panel.
In races two and three we were probably fourth or fifth at the top mark, but there were opportunities. We got to within about 10cm from them – it was like coming in and doing a hand brake turn into a parking spot. However in recruiting for the Team Bermuda crew the selectors have casted their net wider, into other sports.
While the paintings in the French cave, which became known as the Grotte Chauvet, often have engraved contours, the Portuguese menagerie may also have been painted, but, being outdoors, their pigments have usually weathered away. As shadows welled from the valley, we turned from the scarps and trundled downwards into the cleavage, till the road turned into a path to the water through a profusion of poppies. Finally, I discerned a flock ambling down through dry brush, then a shirt flashed a white dot, and we converged within hailing distance on opposite banks. Even ideal panels on either side of a fig tree bulging titanically from a small cave were barren. A stand of poplar trees crackled like Chinese New Year with small birds, abundant as leaves. It was a good thing we had his name, Lima Monteiro, because the Securitas guard on this side meant business. Our compact car slid in among Mercedes and I stepped into glare, drawing cool stares from fleshy faces. My interlocutor explained that the Chief Engineer was powerless to help me, so he couldn't be bothered to give me an audience. Of course, the stories went, the honorable witnesses had refused to become accomplices and had immediately denounced the whole plot a€“ writing open letters to the Portuguese President, Vice President and Director of IPPAR - with carbon copies for the press.13 If only his employers had known that Rebanda was so naive! She announced that it was no use disturbing the doctor, who I could see through a jarred door talking to someone over the phone with peevish vehemence. Finally, I suggested that she didn't need to keep me company while I waited for the good doctor to get off the phone. That's strange, I thought as I wandered off again, mulling over a mental photograph of the site distribution. And here were others, even closer to the construction site, at "RA?go de Vide", which had been submerged by the same old dam! Still, she caught me; whereupon I went on elaborating it, asking questions, and then padded back to the foyer again to continue my vigil.
After all, the archaeologists and reporters had allowed the Tagus petrogylphs to be drowned with hardly a whimper. Not only did the contrast with his actions in Portugal now smack of a double standard, but there was a piquant irony.
With stakes this high, both parties unleashed their opinion-making machines, making hash of Clottesa€™ carefully weighed words as quickly as theya€™d vilified Rebanda.
Clottesa€™ words may have been earnest, but with stakes this high and politicized they were about as reasonable as Pontius Pilatea€™s attempts to keep the peace. I prefer to think the latter, and that his only mistake was thinking that people on both sides were lucid and reflective enough to interpret his verdict correctly.
In Rebanda's place, I'd have calmed down and let the traitors fall to sleep, but then I'd have snuck away - trekking fast through the dark, picking myself up when I fell, but getting out - bloody knees and all - and calling that alarm first!
Furthermore, I had no doubt - whatever pacts he'd struck - that he would make up for them if only approached constructively.
After we'd faxed it, I was sorry to see him having to still recall and refax, as he nudged the request repeatedly through the unyielding bureaucracy. Sebastian and I scrambled and tacked among the carious cliffs, till there was nothing left but rock overhanging the water itself. But a huge horse, leaning over the depths, was both more graceful and cryptic, for someone had wedged a rusty horseshoe into a crack between its hooves.
No sooner had I chipped the thin device and steadily shoved each curve straight, than the hook slipped smoothly free.
Only Rebanda's long-suffering secretary had to keep her post and occupied herself by taking up the relay of calling and faxing. These red and gray devices were not only customized to match the guards' uniforms, but showed off the latest in high-tech materials and molding. As we wound our way down towards the reservoir among towering red cliffs, he took quiet pride in pointing out the hidden elements of scattered engravings.
But then Piscos Brook ran between trees, pastures and cane-groves, with cliffs full of shelters and stone panels at each bend. La Pintura, The Official Newsletter of the American Rock Art Research Association (Member of IFRAO) Volume 21, Number 3, Winter. In the same book, which Jorge compiled to record the campaign he was spear-heading to save CA?a a€“ a laudatory effort, if there ever was one, that made Jorge synonymous with yet another of Rebandaa€™s finds - Bednarik is repeatedly dismissed as a a€?charlatana€? (pp. Jaffe accused the trio, who had taken over responsibility for the archaeological resources of the valley, of endangering art panels and refusing to allow qualified foreign researchers or even Dr. Whatever the case may be, the problem of rock art conservation is still as far from resolution in Portugal as it is in most other places in the world. After half minute of mayhem, the boy who had grabbed the first ribbon brought his proof to the announcer in the center of the arena. About 17 years old, he's attempting to a€?grow a beard but it's a€?sketchy and mostly fuzz. And the clouds, which are soft and thinnish at eye level, become brilliant white, three-dimensional puffs directly above.
I thought maybe they had given me the plexiglass model from the a€?food showcase in the lobby and slathered barbecue sauce on it. I thought maybe they had given me the plexiglass model from the food showcase in the lobby and slathered barbecue sauce on it. I was a sailmaker for 12 years and raced with  customers in nearly all the major regattas around the world.
All that remains, where jagged outcroppings of schist jut from brushy slopes - exposing terminal facets perfect for murals - are hauntingly sinuous outlines of deer, horses, ibexes, and wild cattle called aurochs.
The first flurry of press articles had mentioned that many of the engravings were already submerged by the cofferdam holding the river back for the more monstrous wall rising downstream from it. I sent greetings and the shepherd expostulated and gestured animatedly upstream towards towering slabs. For me, all of mankind's later accomplishments, all our later experience of good and evil only become possible after such art. The irrelevant exchange had sparked sympathy as we both waited - and waited, in similar irrelevance to someone too consumed to give us heed. I would have to go to Lisbon, and no, it wouldn't do any good for him to fax; he didn't have an iota of authority. Despite all the insinuations about Rebanda and IPPAR, they were actually the first to try blocking the philistines with the clout of an institution as important as UNESCO.
About thirty years before, Francea€™s equivalent to the EDP had taken the entire Ardeche Gorge, where the Chauvet Cave had just been found, from its entrance at Sauze to a rainbow-huge, natural arch - Vallon Pont da€™Arc, next to Chauvet - by eminent domain, to build a dam. These conscientious people know that theya€™re barely tolerated by the forces of Mammon - scraping crumbs from the tables of vast enterprises armed with dynamite and bulldozers - and make compacts all the time with them, telling themselves, for instance, that the alluvial strata that cement plants exploit are always too tumbled to contain intact Acheulian hearths. If only he'd announced the discovery, co-opted his employers, and splashed masterpieces across magazine covers while the art's existence was still fresh, he might have won honor, fame, a very small fortune (and maybe even kept his job). Within weeks, local academics had begun signing their names to Rebandaa€™s discoveries, tracings, and interpretations while forgetting to cite him.
I'd have been the one to announce the existence of the largest gathering of open-air Paleolithic engravings in Europe to the world.
Slate slabs, thoughtfully laid into a wall as steps, led down through a canopy of fig trees into a cavernous wallow between cliffs.
I woke Sebastian in time to see the beast lumber over the bank and glide away, and then it was high time we checked out our other line at the doctor's office.
Noon passed as we still waited together like an old couple, talking about the doctor's misery, Australian rock art, translations; whatever. The guards stiffened as Sebastian and I had the gumption to breach a forbidden zone and stride blithely forward. There were so many warblers piping and whistling, there must have been a dozen species with overlapping territories.
Botha€? - Baptista and Gomes a€“ a€?were closely involved in the rationale to submerge the rock art (to 'protect it from vandals'); in fact, on 8 November Baptista spoke of how sedimentation behind dams should protect rock arta€? - my italics. After our departure, Bednarik and three other researchers (Alan Watchman from Canada, plus Fred Phillips and Ronald Dorn from the USA), who believed that they had found ways to date rock art directly, studied some of the CA?aa€™s engravings during separate visits.
1995 that was led by Mounir Bouchenaki, the IPPAR formed a scientific committee consisting of Antonio BeltrA?n, Emmanuel Anati and Jean Clottes, who came back for a second round. I ate my Papaburger Special at a giant picnic table in front of the place, joined by by six unruly kids who piled out of a van from Missouri. A redhead, a€?about 30, who Ia€™d seen walking with him earlier, chases after him for a a€?while, a€?calling his name. A redhead, about 30, who Ia€™d seen walking with him earlier, chases after him for a while, calling his name.
And so, forgive me, but in comparison to these ancient windows, cathedrals seem to have anti-climatic and overwrought power. Except for the absence now of bigger species, this was how Solutreans had experienced the world - with whistling, mooing, barking, roaring and trumpeting not just on the Serengeti, but to the frozen north! So much will go unrecorded because of all this fuss.a€? a€“ So, Rebanda is resigned to the inevitability of the flooding, I thought. If the dam had been built, a dozen known art caves would have been flooded or affected by rising water tables. So rather than condemn Clottes, perhaps the Portuguese should simply admit his diplomacy opened the debate, even if one might wish that hea€™d been a crusader.
From Chauveta€™s pinnacle, its gatekeeper was probably right to dismiss the scratchings, which I too thought could have been the kneading of bears, but the contrast between the levels of encouragement was striking.
Although they granted him the discovery of Hella€™s Canyon (in footnotes), other sites that Rebanda had already noted were soon claimed by competitors as Rebanda was effectively silenced. And Vitor and his wife, Susanaa€? - was it my imagination or did her name stick in his craw? Their stingy hypocrisy and philistinism revolted me: they wouldn't spend a penny on protecting such discoveries, but they'd drown the world up to its headwaters to keep driving Mercedes.
Goldfinches sparked into the air, a crested hoopoo flashed orange and black, and the shaggy canes were a tumult of avian chatter. Jaffe was also the IFRAO representative of the SocietA  Cooperativa Archaeologica, Le Orme della€™Uomo, Italy (Bednarik 1994).
But not before signing controversial non-disclosure agreements with the EDP, which was hoping that their techniques would yield dates so recent that they could be used to ridicule stylistic daters who had identified the engravings as Paleolithic (Baptista & Fernandes 2007, p.
Summit reminded me a€?of the fjord area around Bergen, Norway -- no trees, just rock and some hardy a€?vegetation. He had a€?fond memories of the place, which police shuttered in 1982 after 100 years of operation.a€?a€?Went out for a beer in Uptown, but the bars were too raucous.
She gives up after 100 feet, turns and runs back to throw her a€?arms around the neck of the guy who did the thrashing, a very beefy fellow about a€?25 in a muscle T-shirt. Summit reminded me of the fjord area around Bergen, Norway -- no trees, just rock and some hardy vegetation. He had fond memories of the place, which police shuttered in 1982 after 100 years of operation.Went out for a beer in Uptown, but the bars were too raucous. She gives up after 100 feet, turns and runs back to throw her arms around the neck of the guy who did the thrashing, a very beefy fellow about 25 in a muscle T-shirt. Intermittent splashes smacked echoes off the walls, a frog croaked and some beast keened a cry we had never heard. When I asked if they could intercede on our behalf, she said one had to apply in person, in Lisbon, and have connections. In fact, paw prints indicated that we had missed cornering another feral dog or fox in its lair.
Surgically, it was a nightmare: I'd have to pry its head out, keep its neck extended, wedge open its powerful beak and finally thrust the treble barbs down its throat, so as to carefully extract their burr, without snagging them again! Finally, they agreed that one of them would walk parallel to us, down the fence-line, to let us in the distant gate. At our feet, frogs skipped like pebbles and painted turtles rowed earnestly in tangled water blossoms - all for the taking. Unless you and I and all of us together add our voices to those of the Portuguese citizenry trekking down for a last look, and reclaim what is OURS!
The story of the denunciation is from Bednarik (1994) and Simons in the New York Times (1994). He wanted to be a world champion for Ferrari because he knew that such an achievement would elevate him to myth and legend in a sport grounded in technological wizardry and the hard fact of the computer printout.
Even the Chauvet Cave, which was unknown, might have been threatened by the changing water table!
Unfortunately, Bednarik, who is one of the worlda€™s most encyclopedically informed, accomplished, and bold prehistorians, walked right into the trap. Jorgea€™s utter dismissal of Bednarik was clearly motivated by the lattera€™s implicit condemnation of the way that Jorge had appropriated Rebandaa€™s earlier discovery at Mazouco, instigating Rebandaa€™s secrecy that was one component of the CA?a a€?cover-upa€? (Bednarik 1994, p. Negatively, entire working class neighborhoods were gobbled up by the mining company as a€?the pit expanded.a€?The Uptown District is on the National Register of Historic Places but that's a€?not doing much for its current economic health.
Negatively, entire working class neighborhoods were gobbled up by the mining company as the pit expanded.The Uptown District is on the National Register of Historic Places but that's not doing much for its current economic health. Later, Bednarik spear-headed another campaign to save a Portuguese rock-art assemblage from inundation a€“ this time behind a dam in the Guadiana Valley - and noted that a€?None of this helps the rock art of the Guadiana, condemned to inundation under billions of tonnes of lake sediment as the reservoir silts up over the next 70 yearsa€? a€“ again, my italics. They're trying to restore the a€?district but it still looks worn, like the subjects of an Edward Hopper painting. They're trying to restore the district but it still looks worn, like the subjects of an Edward Hopper painting. Do you think I'm such a fool as to invite the man who deprived me of the credit for my first discovery, to come see my greatest wonders if it wasn't because I needed all the allies I could get; if it wasn't because I even needed the universities to help save them.
Ironically, the mandarin in Porto would come out smelling like roses for his campaign while the roles of several well-meaning prehistorians, if I may insist upon the word, were simplified so as to make them better scapegoats. I love Hopper.a€?I stayed at the Mindlen Hotel, a 1924 knockoff of the now-demolished Astor a€?Hotel in NYC, but this version's only nine stories tall. I love Hopper.I stayed at the Mindlen Hotel, a 1924 knockoff of the now-demolished Astor Hotel in NYC, but this version's only nine stories tall. Three times in those five years Ferrari have stood on the brink of the championship, only to fall into the abyss of despair and disappointment and yesterday Schumacher refused to believe the championship would finally be his, even when reassured by Ross Brawn, Ferrari?s technical director and the architect of yet another victory.
First, because his dating system, which was based on determining the degree of micro-erosion undergone by a rock face, had been developed in Australia, where climate and geological conditions are different from Portugala€™s.
The Mindlen's been a€?restored to its a€?original condition, which was that of a fine businessmen's hotel. The Mindlen's been restored to its original condition, which was that of a fine businessmen's hotel.
Tall-columned a€?lobby, chandeliers, marble floors.a€?I didn't detect there were any other guests with me on the second floor, which a€?is maybe why I slept so well. Tall-columned lobby, chandeliers, marble floors.I didn't detect there were any other guests with me on the second floor, which is maybe why I slept so well.
This odd statement flies in the face of Bednarika€™s consistent defense of both the CA?aa€™s art and other assemblages, suggesting that it was a ploy to get the EDP to allow them to test their methods. Even though both men concluded that their observations proved that the art was no older than the Neolithic, Bednarik did not repeat the notion, when announcing his results, that a relatively recent vintage diminished the arta€™s importance or the need to protect it a€“ quite the contrary. They disappeared into the distance as though tied together by a piece of string, never separated by more than a two-second gap. By the time Hakkinen pitted from the lead for the second time, Brawn had devised a plan to keep Schumacher out on the track for an extra three laps so he could build a substantial gap. When you have been working for the championship for five years and come close three times, you do not want to think about it until it really happens. It is an outstanding moment.? The celebrations did not need to be planned, as the Ferrari garage exploded with emotion, mechanics whooping and dancing, champagne corks popping and everybody hugging anybody who came within an arm?s length of a brilliant red uniform. He, too, was in line for a place in history as the only driver since Juan Manuel Fangio in the Fifties to win three consecutive titles. In the end, after eight months and 16 races of the world championship he finished just 1.8sec behind his rival.
In all the excitement generated around Schumacher, though, there was perhaps a glimpse of the future. Jenson Button scored points yet again in his rookie season, taking a remarkable fifth place.




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