Mort Report is a labor of love by old-style correspondents with lifetimes on the road and young ones with fresh eyes. Our philosophy is simple: we report at first hand with analysis based on non-alternative fact, not opinion. If we get something wrong, we fix it.
PARIS — Almeria took four days to limp up the Seine to the boatyard last year. She just blasted back home in two. At 15 knots, less than school-zone speed limits, I kicked back with a pipe and a pile of books for a 100-mile voyage that spanned 2,000 years.
There were moments. A rib-bruising fall through a hatch slowed me down on the ropes. We again encountered the Auxerrois, a working barge that saved us on the trip up last year and nearly sank us on the way down. Lockkeepers declared a surprise strike.
Still, my old wooden boat is back at its mooring in the heart of Paris after a major refit, ready for another century afloat. In fact, as things look today, Almeria may outlive us all. I wish that was only literary license.
We dumbass humans are losing our wondrous world at breakneck speed, heedless of universal truths dating to Antiquity.
For an hour on the first morning two of us stood in the bow peering into fog so thick it blotted out the water beneath us, let alone obstacles ahead. As the current carried us along, I reflected on the rudderless big raft we all share with no one charting our course.
MIGENNES, France — A great joy in life has been keeping my noble old boat afloat. Her teak and oak planking evokes early civilizations venturing across a bounteous planet. But after a long refit, she is in troubled waters, either a Noah's Ark or the Titanic.
This is less of a Mort Report than just Mort, a cri de coeur from the deck of Almeria. I've learned much about people on rivers that Caesar's legions followed to build an empire that fell from hubris, greed and cruelty. The world changes. Human nature does not.
Crippled nations once had time to recover from imperial overreach or a madman's folly. No longer. All eight billion of us are in the same boat, headed in the wrong direction.
I call these dispatches "non-prophet." Reporters ought to focus on the present based on the past rather than speculate on the future. But what seasoned world-watchers see from hard facts is dead clear. We are rudderless, awash in perilous cross currents.
