MONTSERRAT SUNDAY, 1 DECEMBER 1996 The sky was very clear and it was agreed that we should fly over to Hermitage Lookout to collect volcanic bombs. We took the doors off the helicopter and Steve (Sugar Sugar) Sparks, Simon, Jenny and me — now called Tango Tango Papa (Tony The Painter) — squeezed in. We flew first to Galway’s Wall to inspect new cracks and then over it to look down at the dome. Smoke swirled all around it and sulphureous puffs of gas escaped from lurid yellow tubes, boulders crashed down the slopes, leaving trails of dust and smoke — the surface temperature is 300°. The pilot, Jim, swung the helicopter around like a gadfly and obligingly tipped it sideways for photographs. After about 15 minutes, we landed on a rubble-strewn slope covered in dead trees. Stood for 20 minutes and made a drawing with colour notes and then we flew back to the viewpoint. They dropped me at a quiet spot so I could finish painting what I had just seen. GIANT SEQUOIAS TUESDAY, 19 SEPTEMBER 2023 During supper last night I noticed a large black shape lumbering around the next campsite, separated from mine by a fallen tree. I watched it move speculatively, sniffing the air. When I opened my bearbox I was astonished to see my blue (favourite) stuff sack missing, along with all my food: tea store, parmesan cheese and granola bars, dehydrated dinners and oats. I (thought) I distinctly remembered securing it. After a breakfast of apricots and beef jerky (all I had left) I went looking for it. No sighting. Drove in to Arnold to re-supply. To the South Grove. The trail winds across a bridge and along the hillside through lots of very tall trees, but no giant sequoias for 40 minutes. Finally, after crossing second bridge, some magnificent specimens. It is almost impossible to take in their scale and girth. They are all gnarled, ancient beings with extraordinary individuality and character. I carefully scoped several, and think I have found one that will work. Sat on a rock by the stream to brew tea, cool my baking feet and relax. Back at camp I was met by two of my neighbours. “Come and see what we found” — they pointed out a flash of cerulean blue in the undergrowth. We go to investigate. My ripped stuff sac and the wrappers from crunchy bars, parmesan, porridge, etc. The only reject was the Irish Breakfast tea liberally scattered across the forest floor. WEDNESDAY, 20 SEPTEMBER 2023 In the South Grove I realized I had jumped too quickly at a site without really studying it, so I walked further this time to see if there was anything else. Set off at 10ish and was at my original site in 40 minutes. I decided the first big tree not the second was the one I should concentrate on… Tried to figure out a way of organizing the drawing board, but couldn’t make it work. My painting site is covered in twigs and brush and bits of felled tree, so very unstable and likely to trip me any minute. The only way is to find some good bits of fallen timber and knock some nails in. I need a hammer and nails. Perhaps the Park Maintenance dept? THURSDAY, 21 SEPTEMBER 2023 Pack my daypack (now extra heavy with hammer and nails) and off by 9.30. Arrive at my site and haul a huge slice of redwood which, together with a newly cut stump, form my easel. I knock in the nails at strategic points, find two heavy branches to act as buttresses, put nails in these and voilà! A stable drawing board at the right height and level. I am immensely pleased with this, so I take a swig of tea from my new flask, sit and start drawing. As always, my boast that painting sequoias should be easy was immensely wide of the mark. A very complex tree trunk confronts me and I spend all morning drawing its inter- weaving contours. Lunch propped up against MY tree. SATURDAY, 23 SEPTEMBER 2023 Finish the basics by tea break and sit in a patch of sunshine with my back propped up by the Friendly Giant. These trees definitely seem to have personality. Selected Diary Entries As always, my boast that painting sequoias should be easy was immensely wide of the mark. A very complex tree trunk confronts me and I spend all morning drawing its interweaving contours. Lunch propped up against MY tree. — THURSDAY, 21 SEPTEMBER 2023 90
