Belly of the Whale

I wake up with the sounds of the shipyard, the travellifts, hammering, trucks driving through potholes and gravel.
I lie in bed awhile, get up, brew some hot cocoa, eat some raison bran or oatmeal.
I wear my same old longjohn top and a new pair of Carhearts.
I stare across the boat, dazed, planning the day, still dreaming, still trying to understand whatever crazy dreams I had the night before.
As my head defogs, I ease into my errands: I get on my bike and ride off to by supplies for the days work. I may do this four or more times a day.
I get to ask more questions and learn things.
Most of my past jobs are wrapped up: plumbing, electronic.
The next three days I’m helping a crew pant “Joker” a big fishing boat, but the rain has been bad and we haven’t done anything.
Later in the week I am going to cut new companionway boards (the main entrance to the cabin of the boat.)

I eat a p.b. and j. whenever I can’t postpone it any longer, anywhere between 2 and 4:30. Sometimes I make a mean tunafish sandwich – lots of relish. I eat carrots with ranch, maybe some cheese wedges.
The best bread I’ve ever had I found (in a dumpster)
They bake it on stones and it is covered with flour.
I eat it with Tillamook butter ravenously all day. Addiction.

Spaghetti and tomato sauce everynight. Try and make enough for leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch and dinner.
Do dishes and huddle up with a sleeping bag on the starboard settee and read. Drink a cup of hot chocolate perhaps.
I read mechanical guides, cruising books, “The 12 Volt Bible”, I just reread “Dove.” If Graham can sail around the world, I might have a shot. (He got run over by a freighter, knocked overboard twice, ran into reefs twice in a day – demasted TWICE, once in the middle of the Indian Ocean – rode out one hurricane, just missed another. What a trip!!)

Some nights I go and walk around. I walk through the yard and look at the great ships and the 300 ton travel lift. I walk down the coastline trail, sit on the rocks and stare into the glassy water.
I walk the docks and learn for the different schooners tricks of rigging and such.
Sometimes I play the pennywhistle or sing to myself (don’t tell), mostly mantras and stuff nonsense like that.

I walk back, strip down and climb into a cold sleeping bag.
Something always wakes me in the night: did I turn off the propane, turn of the a/c power, what was that crash on deck.
I make it a point already to always get up and investigate.
Such is life on a boat. (even in the yard – I can be a bit silly)