Sailing to Olympus
C.C. Barnes
A fish swims, sinuous tack from side to side. Swims without knowing, except how to do it. Birds fly, sail and sour with little knowing except that it works: they move in the air with graceful ease.
A whale smooths the weather with the grace of power, sensuous undulations of ancient rhythms on a scale more vast than any fish can know. But a whale must suck the air to live, air that a fish can ignore.
I am Boat sailing through air and swimming through water as one knowing fish – bird – whale, hurled along with speed and pride. I wager myself and my crew to reach the lee of Olympus and test the winds of heaven.
On the planet Mars, Mons Olympus soars to unearthly heights. If Mount Réal, a volcano too, had grown to the size of Olympus Mons, its leak would stand sixteen miles above the plain and Kingston would nestle on the edge of its ring of protective cliffs, two miles high.
