The New Deal

I should start by saying I don’t have any stories to tell here. I did run over my bike with my sailboat—that was an unusual and spectacular event. I raced in a regatta which was fantastic. My diet is vastly improving: I’m eating primarily raw, live foods, essentially salads, fruits and nuts. However, the best thing was an impromptu trip to the San Juan Islands. We went out for a day sail around the Bay and didn’t come home until four days later. I met an amazing girl on that trip, the kind of person who glows through eyes, who sees everything through its positive and beautiful nature. I haven’t met anyone like her for a long time. These things are in my journal, but not here.
Sorry. (See “An Average Sailing Adventure or a Great Story about a Toothbrush”) This is a more philosophical email.

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Everything is changing it seems. You think you know something one minute, then the world turns upside down, or more truly, simply shows you a new view of what you thought you knew. Now you aren’t so sure anymore.
The last few weeks, if not the past couple of months have been something like this for me. I make a plan. As I approach it the more I learn its flaws and infeasibility. Then I have a choice: to remain stoic and trudge on through in good stubborn manly style, or do I revise, sit down, scrap the plan and start fresh all over again.
A friend once criticized me for always saying one thing, then doing something else entirely in the end. This has always bothered me: Should I be more steadfast and stick to the plan? I feel like I am constantly misleading my friends and family. However I don’t see the logic in sticking to outdated logic for the sake following my former ignorance as to not mislead. I never give my word or swear to a thing. ‘Revise and move forward’ has been my way. But I hate misleading people and if frustrates me to do so.

Now it is back.
Each plan I have made regarding sailing has had to undergo the knife. It started years ago before my mom died. I moved to Palma Spain to sail around the world working on other people’s yachts. That plan got immediate revision. In the Caribbean I ended up going south instead of east, then back to school instead of to the Pacific. On and on.
This time the plan was to sail to Hawaii. At first it changed quickly. A man I respect quite a bit here asked me why Hawaii? I didn’t have a great answer really: I don’t even remember why. Why not the Marquesas, he asked? (S. Pacific islands) I didn’t know. I hadn’t even thought of it. Of course! I wanted to get out of the U.S. Hawaii, as I was slowly learning, was a real challenge in many ways, very poor anchorages, short-term mooring in many places, tough surf. The Marquesas would be great.
So that was the first change; that was maybe a week or so ago. But this change only opened up a whole new set of questions: first, timing, and the second, crew. These weren’t new questions really, but now the spotlight was more firmly upon them.
I don’t have any crew.
I did temporarily, but it didn’t work out. For me the question of whether to go it alone is a fundamental existential question. I’ve always gone alone. It has been the only way for me to get things done. I feel most effective. But I am older now, and this life is really something I want to share. I really want a partner but fear it will sap my ability to think creatively and focus as effectively. (See Bob—It comes back to the suffering artist paradigm from our Prosody class. I tell you, it’s true!) I do have an attachment to suffering. I’m seeking therapy! I want to succeed at whatever it is I do so badly, that I don’t want to sell it out for the comfort of company I love. Please, someone, convince me this isn’t the case. But of all the highly creative and effective people I have studied, they were mostly single and distraught—or outright crazy (Blake). The list is dumbfounding. So I’ve been bending my mind on this point endlessly—well, for years actually. I always have loved the sage-hermit archetype.

Timing is becoming an increasing problem. For the Marquesas, I need to leave as soon as possible. I have to beat the hurricanes of the summer as I head south of California, but I can’t leave here until the last of the winter storm season ends. This window is rapidly approaching and I am still unprepared. I haven’t practiced various tactics I need for heavy weather. In general I just still haven’t done enough sailing.
This was my conundrum.
My options were thus: If I wait I could have crew, but won’t make the south Pacific this year. The season there ends in November, the start of typhoon season. To go now would be to go it alone and less than optimally prepared. A brave endeavor indeed! I am crazy enough, if I felt in my heart that that was my path. But I don’t. It is this doubt that has been troubling me.
SO: I wait. What a shame it would be to miss all the amazing sailing that can be done up here. I want spend my summer in B.C. and Alaska sailing and shaking out the kinks in the boat and myself. I’ll hopefully get my residency in Alaska where I’d like to live if I come back to teach or something. And I can work on getting some crew. We’ll see what happens with that.
Who knows??
Now I have time to figure some of these things out. Summer in the northwest, fall and winter in Baja, then to the Marquesas in March—much earlier than I could go from here this year. Then I’ll have far more time to work westward through the S. Pacific before November when the storms come and have a much better idea what I want to accomplish by doing so. Much more relaxing.
This is the new plan.

Next week the boat should finally be dialed out and ready. I would have sailed back to the San Juans today if we hadn’t had a pretty rough gale. It’s been nice though, sitting by the fire writing. I nice change.
Install an auto-helm and mend a sail—that’s all I care to do before the sailing in earnest begins. Some friends have told me about the Queen Charlotte Islands up in B.C. They are all protected; old native villages are preserved there. Totem poles are still standing or toppled around on the beaches. It is supposedly magical and unlike anywhere else, and totally quiet this time of year. I’m trying to get a friend or two interested in a little skiing / climbing / sail exploration of the northwest for the summer.
New plans are such fun. They always feel like a step forward. My Dad wholeheartedly agrees. He never liked the solo-sailing paradigm. Too bad.

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Since writing this, I have gone on a great little trip and will have a funny little story to go with it. Soon.

Up the mast for three days.

I installed a new track on my mast for a storm trysail. I am pretty stoked about it. Now I have about a week before a few things, the last things, I ordered to come in. Today and maybe tomorrow I am tidying up and finishing a couple small jobs then I want to head up to the San Juans for a little solo sail, if the weather permits.

It was easy last time but I am anxious to see how the sail is alone. How much time will I have to stay at the helm? What if I get into a blow?The boat steers nice enough that I can lash the tiller for short periods, on at least one point of sail she will totally steer herself. But the downwind runs are what bother me. I still need some elastic, or something rubber to use in a sheet-to-tiller system I want to use for steering. So without that system in place I may be stuck at the helm ninety percent of the time.
That would be rough - but I wouldn't be the first.

I am planning on being gone for a week or so.

A Roller coaster of a week

Man have I had some questions, doubts, concerns, existential crises this week. Everything has been thrown into question. I have re-evaluated everything. Is what I am doing feasible in the timeframe I am trying to do it in? Do I go it alone, like I always do? (Yes, Widge, I know.) Or is it a time for a change?

Just from a dance with someone I felt something special, rare. It was on my first trip in my boat. Is she my companion? It would be ridiculous to ponder such questions for such a chance meeting—but she feels the same way! And yet we are strangers.
So strange.

Should I wait for her to be ready to go? Should I wait for myself to be ready to go?



Actually, most of these questions are now a bit outdated. I stayed up last night staring at the fire until I figured it all out in my mind.
I have comfortable reactions to whatever my happen. First, I need to get to know Carmel. Then see how I feel.
Continue to sail and see how I feel.

Time seems to work through these matters, but I am so glad to have my mind back where it belongs.


Other than all this, I have been sailing and studying, preparing, talking, tying loose ends.
All is great. I talked to Carmel for a long time and am sort of in shock.

Wow.
Time is nearly at an end. The sailing is happening. The travel is happening. The boat is responding.
I can see the end, changed though it is; it is time. I feel good, good and ready. I can do this. The boat is becoming my friend.

Did I mention I wasn't going to Hawaii??
I am going to the Marquesas in the SOuth Pacific instead. Much better I think. But I have to hurry.
My god I feel great!

(Carmel, are you reading???? Come along!Come along!)


Should I mention I met an amazing girl - but I don't even really know her yet. But she knows how to smile, to dance, and she has deep eyes. What else matters?

"A Normal Sailing Adventure or a Great Story about a Toothbrush"

Another initiation.
This one perhaps more important than its predecessors. On Sunday, I was preparing for a daysail, as was everyone. It was a beautiful day. Several friends were taking their boats out. I recruited a couple of friends to come out with me. We even picked up a few more in another harbor on the way. We were six and a dog.

We were having such a good time one of the girls said, “We should just keep on going until we reach the San Juans.’
I could tell she was mostly kidding, but also partly serious. I thought about it: Why not? I’ve been itching to go for months and months. So I pushed it. “Let’s go.”
She was serious. So were a couple of other guys. A couple of folks had to work on Monday. In the end, three were in, three couldn’t make it, though were bummed not to be able to. What we did was come along side another boat we had been shadowing and playing with, and said we had some crew that needed to jump ship. We depowered our sails until we could cruise at the same speed. I pulled alongside and everyone jumped over—except the dog. He was handed across. It was a fun stunt!

We were off. My crew were two guys, Dustin and Kenny. I had never met either one of them before Saturday night: we all went out together. Neither even lives in town. Both were visiting old friends here. They were only packing daysail stuff—essentially a warm coat. All the same, we were off to the San Juan Islands.

Our “daysail” turned into a four day cruise through the islands. We had some great winds, some long lulls, a long night, an early morning, a open-mic night on Orcas Island, a couple great galley cooked meals (courtesy of Dustin), some “wing-on-wing” downwind sailing, and lots of jokes, good times, and epic beauty. If I manage a story out of it, it will be a quote from Kenny, who was infinitely quotable: “A Normal Sailing Adventure or a Great Toothbrush Story.” Indeed, it is a great story about a toothbrush, rare have I heard a better.

This is what it is all about. A letter from a student and good friend:


Dear friend,

                  This is first excellent mail that you have sent me ever now. I am very happy to read. I got a very good advice from you. I haven't expected this kind of mail from you. This is nature for every living people. YOu are great for me. Of Course, my future is on my hand and not for you to Ivor. You have done good for me in the past and this time you have given me very short and nice advice. I can't forget it. i can't lie to you and i don't want to cheat you. Of course you have written very nice advice. Even in next time mail, sometime write these kind of advice for me.

        When i was small age, i haven't got such a sweet advice from my family or my friends. So i was in expections. But now i know and i will carry on your advice. what lies beyond on me is lack of imagination and the nature of the world. Once again i am saying Thank you for your kind advice. Now i am stopping here. I am in India. I hope i will be here for some weeks. I want to learn computer. I spent your money to the computer course.

                This time i am very happy because of your good advice. i can't cheat or lie beyond my friend. Thank you for your kind help. Bye. take care of your health. Wish you all  the best in every step. I will pray for your success. Thank you, Your friend, ########

Well, not much special here.

Spent part of a day in a sailmaker’s loft
Been reading a great book on heavy weather sailing—actually very encouraging stuff.
Raised my mainsail and played with my reefing system (inefficient) and pondered better ways. Also the best way with what I’ve got.
My belly has been upset because of my sunfood diet. It ain’t easy, but I like it.
Ooh…I found these delightful things—olives stuffed with jalapenos. Fantastic! My new fad.
I am beginning to embark on my windvane journey. I’m not psyched about it. It will be costly. I have found so many shotcuts, but I don’t know about this time. My fingers are crossed.
My bike is in the shop being repaired from my running it over.
New handlebars and shifters. I’m lucky I didn’t bend the frame around that piling I had tied it too. Very lucky.

MY LIST OF THINGS I HAVE DESTROYED SINCE BUYING MY BOAT

- Central fuse $45.
I accidentally drilled a hole in it while widening the screw slots.

- Flexible coupling. $400.
Ouch, my biggest. I wrote a story about this one. I wrapped a mooring line in my prop. I was lucky here in that I could have destroyed my transmission instead.

- Bike $150
Ran it over with my boat, while it was tied to a piling. Bent the handlebars, the neck, broke the right gear shifter. Basically, I got away lucky.

- Hole in Sail ???
It must have been sheeted in too tight and rubbed on the spreader. I can probably just so on a patch.

- Hole in inflatible dinghy $0 + time
Don't know where this came from. Haven't even used the thing. The dangers of storage. All it needs is a patch, which I have.


Okay, not much of a list. I know I can do better than that.

SAILING

I've been out sailing 3 out of the last four days.
Sailed in the Shipwrights' Regatta and had a barrel of fun. Beautiful days. The Bay was so beautiful, filled with boats of all kinds.

Then Sunday, an old friend from Antigua, Chris Anderson came to town to see the boat. I haven't seen him in years. We sailed and he taught me tons of tricks. He's a captain now on a boat in the Bahamas.
With a little luck he will come to Hawaii with me.

It is both exhillarating and a bit scary to finally be sailing. yesterday was a lot of beating to weather. The elements are so strong--it is intimidating. But each time I learn more and more. The weather I hope will get better and better. By the time I leave I hope I am psychologically as well as physically prepared.

At last the time is NOW

A novel new way to wreck a bike???
......run it over with a sailboat!


Yes, indeed. I ran over my bike, my new bike mind you, with my sailboat.
Impossible, you say? Nothing is impossible for me. If the probability is slim - for success or for utter failure and defeat - I'll draw the ace.
The bike is on ground. The boat in the water. And yet I brought my boat in to dock at just such an angle that as I turned into my slip, my shroud, a wire rigged from the top of the mast to the side of the boat, hooked around the handle bar of my bicycle, leaned against a piling on the dock. The shroud did quite a number on the headset of my bike and one of the petals (??).
The true irony of the story, if the land/sea paradigm isn't enough, is that I had been warned the day before about parking my bike there. It was illegal. I knew that. Against my better judgement I parked there anyway. When I looked at my partially mangled bike, there was a pink warning on it that it should be moved.
Clearly!

Yes, but the sailing was great.