Posts tagged Training

Some cool weight training posters images:

Photo finish


Image by Jean-François Chénier
I left the office as soon as I heard that Edo had been found. The ads in the local weekly, eight weekends of searching, dozens of conversations in broken Japanese, and hundreds of posters had finally paid off. Someone had found her and called Furuki-san, the owner of the ryokan we had stayed at the day Edo was lost, and every weekend since. He had called to say that he was bringing her to the local vet. That was all I knew – that and the words the coworker who had taken the call left me with as I headed out: “Maybe she is dying.”

* * *

“Maybe she is dying.” The words took on a kind of haunting quality over the next four hours, as I rode the subway, bullet train and bus to my destination. They were the soundtrack to a series of images that flashed through my mind as I alternated between games of solitaire on the PDA, and unsuccessful attempts to reach Bonnie at work. The strongest of these was of Edo rushing toward us as we came through the door after a one-week trip to Taiwan. I had never seen a cat display such unbridled, puppy-like joy – and in a sense, it was that joy that had led to those haunting words: “Maybe she is dying.” That joy had prompted us to bring her on our vacation to Mashiko. That joy, and a kitty vest that chose the wrong moment to show us how badly designed it was, had defined 2007 to date.

And so I took the familiar trip to Mashiko for what I knew was one of the last times. The uncertainty of the past two months had collapsed into this one event – an event that would play out in one of two ways… maybe with Edo dying, having been found just a little too late.

If this were a movie, the past two months would likely be rendered as a montage of images of Bonnie and I wandering in the dark and the rain, walking through rice fields calling out, shining lights under farmhouses, and handing out posters. And there would be images of Edo too, hiding, as it turns out, under a house, slowly starving in shadows occasionally made bright by lightning; sometimes hearing our voices, but too terrified to move.

And now she was dying. Maybe. And ‘maybe’ – in this context, and in Japan – meant there was virtually no doubt.

When I walked into Fushimi-sensei’s pet hospital, I was led to a small room lined with cages. Edo was facing the back of her cage, with an IV in her hind leg, lying still. She was emaciated, and staring wide-eyed into the void, her pupils narrow. And despite the fact that her face held none of its perpetual playfulness, and despite the filth, and despite the parched lips pulled back to reveal unfamiliar fangs, there was no question that this was our little friend, and that one way or another, the hunt had ended.

The vet opened the cage, and as she did so, Edo let out a wail. It was empty and deep and mournful, and like no sound I had ever heard come out of her before. It held none of the charm and warmth and familiarity of the little coo that greeted me every day when I came home – the sound of a cat greeting a friend, and the sound that I had missed more than all her others in the past two months.

And then she wailed again.

And again.

She needed comfort – and if nothing else, all the effort of the past few months meant that I could at least give her that now, when she needed it most. I reached in, and gently petted her – afraid that too strong a touch would hurt her, or bruise the bones that I could so clearly feel through her thin coat.

And she wailed again.

And I comforted her.

And she wailed.

She seemed oblivious to my presence, and never turned toward me and the light. She only seemed to want to fall further into the darkness, and when she moved it was only to make frantic attempts to to dig through the metal back of the cage. All I could do was pet her, and speak to her, and try to let her know she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

And that is how I spent the evening of March 7, 2007.

Every once in a while, the vet would come in, and fill me in on details. Edo had been found a few hundred yards from Furuki-san’s place, wailing, face down in the dirt. When she had come in, she had had a temperature of 32, vs the usual 38. She was too weak to be tested for anything, let alone treated. And probably brain damaged. The vet had expected her to die in a couple of hours, but had done her best to keep her alive until I arrived. And I was welcome to spend the night with Edo, if that’s what I wanted.

It was what I wanted.

After a few hours, Edo stopped wailing, and began to stare over her shoulder through the open cage door – not at me, but beyond me, her eyes fixed. Her stare was blank, even when I moved into her field of vision, and stood bent at the waist so that my eyes could lock with hers.

Fushimi-sensei seemed to think that this was a good sign. She took Edo’s temperature, again, and after she read the thermometer, I learned the Japanese word for miracle. It was a word I quickly forgot, as this particular miracle did not impact my language learning skills, it seems – only Edo’s temperature, which was now 36.

This meant that Fushimi-sensei could do some blood tests. We moved Edo onto an examination table, and as the needle went into her leg, Edo cried out in her old voice, looking me in the eye. I could see that she didn’t know me, but she knew someone was there.

When Fushimi-sensei left for the night, I decided not to put Edo back in the cage. If she went in there, and was forced to be completely alone, I thought that despair would take hold again, and that the wailing would start. Given that every number in her blood work was off the charts, I was pretty sure that was something she wouldn’t survive. So, I left her on the examination table, with me seated at one end. I wrapped one arm around her to keep her from falling off, and stroked her forehead with the thumb of the opposite hand, all the while looking into her eyes, and telling her the story of our past two months.

And that is how I spent the night of March 7, 2007.

She stared into my eyes, and listened to my story. She heard about all the people who had helped to find her, about the all the black and white cats in Mashiko who had been chased and tracked, about the women who I saw crying her name one day as they poured out of the window of a local factory, inspired by the sight of one particular black and white cat who knew no peace that winter. She heard about how happy Bonnie had been when I had finally managed to get through, and how she would see her soon if she held on. Good listener that kitty – though like many people who listen to my tales, she did start to nod off now and then. And just as her head started to drift down, she would force herself awake. Then, eyes wild with fear, she would try to back away from me, pushing with all the strength left in the tiny legs that couldn’t even hold her weight. It was in those moments, as I tried to calm her, that I understood what her past two months had been like: constant terror stronger than even hunger.

And then it happened: at about three or four am, she started to drift to sleep once more, and when she shook herself awake, she looked into my eyes. And her face softened. And she cooed.

* * *

When the vet arrived the next morning, and put some food in front of her, hoping that Edo would have just a bite, our little cat sucked back her helping like someone who, well, hadn’t eaten in two months. And when Bonnie – Edo’s favorite human – arrived bearing Edo’s favorite toys and flavors from home, it was clear that Edo’s brain was up to the task of remembering her past life, and that she was going to fight to get there again.

Shortly after Bonnie arrived, Edo stretched out as you see her above – in her Superman pose – the very pose that I had last photographed her in before she disappeared into the night and the rain. The little animal so full of despair less than 24 hours ago was perfectly content.

That’s when I took this picture – definitely my favorite of all time.

Kamov Ka-27 Helix


Image by james_gordon_los_angeles
The Kamov Ka-27 (NATO reporting name ‘Helix’) is a military helicopter developed for the Soviet Navy, and currently in service in Russia, Ukraine, Vietnam, South Korea, People’s Republic of China, Republic of China and India. Variants include the Ka-29 assault transport, the Ka-28 downgraded export version, and the Ka-32 for civilian use.
Design and development
The helicopter was developed for ferrying and anti-submarine warfare. Design work began in 1970 and the first prototype flew in 1973. It was intended to replace the decade-old Kamov Ka-25, and is similar in appearance to its predecessor due to the requirements of fitting in the same hangar space. Like other Kamov military helicopters it has a co-axial rotor, removing the need for a tail rotor.
Operational history
A Russian Navy KA-27 helicopter from the Russian Udaloy class destroyer RS Severomorsk (DDG 619) conducted interoperability deck landing training on board USS Mount Whitney on 22 July 2010.
In 2011, the Portuguese government considered selling the six Kamov Ka-32 employed in aerial firefighting due to the aircraft’s reported astronomical maintenance costs. The aircraft would be replaced in its fire fighting role with the country’s aging Aérospatiale SA 330 Puma fleet, which has been deactivated following the purchase of AgustaWestland AW101.
The astronomical operating costs mentioned are purely related to mismanagement and lack of experience of the management team in place.On both maintenance and operational sides.This is purely an opinion based on personal observation of the poster.
Specifications (Ka-27)
General characteristics
Crew: 1-3, plus 2-3 specialists
Length: 11.30 m (37 ft 1 in)
Rotor diameter: 15.80 m (51 ft 10 in)
Height: 5.50 m (18 ft 1 in)
Empty weight: 6,500 kg (14,300 lb)
Loaded weight: 11,000 kg (24,200 lb)
Useful load: 4,000 kg (8,800 lb)
Max. takeoff weight: 12,000 kg (26,400 lb)
Powerplant: 2 × Isotov turboshaft engines, 1,660 kW (2,225 shp) each
Performance
Maximum speed: 270 km/h (145 knots, 166 mph)
Cruise speed: 205 km/h (110 knots, 126 mph)
Range: 980 km (530 nm, 605 mi)
Service ceiling: 5,000 m (16,400 ft)
Armament
Ka-27
1 × torpedoes (AT-1M, VTT-1, UMGT-1 Orlan, APR-2 Yastreb) or 36 RGB-NM & RGB-NM-1 sonobouys
Ka-29TB
1 × mobile forward firing GShG-7.62 minigun with 1800 rounds,
1 × 30 mm 2A42 cannon with 250 rounds (flexible semi-rigid mount, optional/removable with ammunition carried in cabin)
four external hardpoints for bombs, rockets, gunpods, munitions dispensers, special four round missile launchers for the 9K114 Shturm
contrary to some reports the internal weapon load is not retained and is replaced by an armoured passenger compartment for up to sixteen troops
Avionics
Radar, MAD or dipping sonar, sonobuoys