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There’s That Island Again
Tomorrow we bring her in. We considered making a run for it, but like yea, on a trawler with an enormous GPS tracking system on the roof? Might as well follow the rules, go home to our stupid non floating home just long enough to repack and go back out again.
Maybe we would buy a boat. But not yet. So many boats! So far we have learned that this one was perfect for our maiden voyage but not going to get the job done in the long run. Who buys a boat that doesn’t provide a drink holder for the NSO?
It’s so peaceful out here I haven’t really had time to think about how peaceful it is. You just get sucked into it and all you want to do is stare. Anything else is beyond cumbersome and irritating. I checked email once, because I had to, and that was a colossal effort. Out here doing anything other than being fully present is a waste of time.
We are on anchor. That means the bow of the boat is slowly pivoting back and forth, back and forth, somewhere between a 45-50 degree angle. I’ve seen that same tiny island 15 or so times this morning in the time it’s taken me to drink one cup.
No one tells you that you need ear plugs on a boat in the middle of nowhere. There was no partying, no wild bird calls, no snoring. Snoring is for stressed out people not trapped on a boat with Molly eating nothing but fruits and veggies. But the water on the hull, even in the calmest waters, makes a slapping, licking sound that I don’t find soothing. Joel loves it, puts him right to sleep. I tried to will myself into the white noise effect, but couldn’t do it. Do all boats make that sound?
On a boat you are challenged with all the things you should be challenged with, like who put the bedroom here? And surely I can’t be the only person who’s water bottle drenched the charts because that wave came out of nowhere. Aren’t these nice problems?
Back to the anchor. At first I didn’t want to anchor. I didn’t feel confident that we (and by we I mean Joel because I don’t know the first thing except that there is a button for down and a button for up) knew what we were doing and I didn’t want to be the boat banging up against the neighbor at 3 am with a handful of cash and apologies. But after giving the anchor a test run, it was clear that he DID know what he was doing. So you say ‘sure’ and it’s all about trust. He trusts me to know how to glean basic but crucial information from multiple aps and charts and I trust him to safely and slowly maneuver the boat into a slip with 2oo people watching.
I can’t imagine Joel out here without me. He would stand in the galley and have no idea how to feed himself despite full cupboards. I would stand on the dock, consider the odds and then walk back up to the pub. Can one learn how to do everything? Absolutely! But that’s missing the point.
Every plate of food on this trip has received a heart felt ‘thank you!’ And I compliment Joel like a kid heading off to first grade. Good job.
Ain’t life sweet? My dad said to me once Molly, about the best you can do is find someone to love who loves you. It was advice-oclock:5-6 pm and a glass of chardonnay.
There’s that island again. The wind has picked up a bit increasing the velocity of the spin and challenging my sense of stability. But just then the anchor takes hold and we are perfectly still and unmoving. We are supposed to return the boat by 11 am tomorrow, mind you having done all the necessary chores. So we’ve decided to get our monies worth today and dock back in the harbor tonight, to be safe. You KNOW that’s not my style; I would come screeching in last minute and still somehow get it all done, but maybe I’m getting old. I can see all the sense in NOT doing that and instead, telling war stories on the dock with the other sensible people.
Today is going to be great. I just know it. Last night’s sunset was one for the books and how do you top a show like that? With a 10 hour sleep, that’s how. 11 hours for the skipper, leaving me free to spin and prattle on about absolutely nothing. And do what that island does. Absolutely nothing.