Continued from - "Through the Fog, Provincetown to Newfoundland" We motored into St. John's Harbor among massive tankers and rickety old fishing boats to the biggest town in the Canadian province of Newfoundland. Houses on hills, ships, tall banks and hotels. At 250,000 people, this town boomed when oil boomed, and has since dried up … Continue reading Newfoundland, Canada
“A story is a meaningful pattern of events. Through finding a story’s shape within your life’s shape, you could know what your life means.” It’s 4:45. Something woke me. I think my phone buzzed, and now I have to pee. I duck out of the mosquito net and cross the sagging, uneven plywood floor, just … Continue reading I Am A Writer
I am developing a roll of forgotten snapshots. I am tracing a dark line over the faded route we took when I was eight, connecting dots of scattered memories that still flash up through layers of time. It’s taken me years to return to this place. It is a good story, one I will write … Continue reading Trapped in Paradise
Just an hour from Union Island, smashing upwind, motoring at three knots, we pulled into the open bay at Mayreau. The flocks of boat boys in their brightly painted launches circled and touched down for just a second, much less insistent than in Chatham Bay. Their easy attitude left me wanting to buy something from … Continue reading Frank the Security Guard
We were a group of five gringoes standing beside the main road, a strip of narrow, pale pavement, unlined although there were supposedly two lanes. Flexible lanes, determined by the route best to avoid potholes or other cars. Steve, the Kiwi, and Cammie from Luxembourg, both off Proxima Vida, our buddy boat. Chris, one of … Continue reading Barbados By Bus (And Mini-bus)
After three weeks of sailing, we motored around the north point of Barbados, out of our familiar and friendly trade winds and into the lee side of the island. I know...what?! Wasn’t I just in Ireland? Blog-ically speaking, yes, and I will fill in the gaps, eventually. I know it’s not quite fair to spoil … Continue reading Barbados, Mon!
PEAT FIRE ON A WOODEN BOAT * WALKING, AN IRISH PASTIME * CABIN FEVER, TIME TO DRY OUT * Continued from - "Cruising Cork and Kerry" All is quiet and dark in the cabin, the others are in bed. Wet clothes hang with high hopes of drying. Spare drops of rain thud on the hatch, … Continue reading Ireland is for Walkers
* A DIRTY BIRTHDAY KISS * DRYING OUT AND NAKED PROBLEM SOLVING * SMALL BOAT REFLECTIONS * Continued from - "Ireland!...Now What?" “Cruising Cork and Kerry.” The title of our portage book. Reading in my head with an Irish accent, I thought it was some whimsical slogan, but learned that it’s just the names of … Continue reading Cruising Cork and Kerry
Uncertainty upon arrival.
Continued from - "Tiger the Storm Magnet" Inside it is cozy but jarring. Wet clothes drip onto wet floorboards. Pant legs and jacket arms reach out into space and fall limp after each roll, as if trying to grab onto something stable. Peter and Dana are tucked in their bunks, probably not asleep. I just … Continue reading Foul Weather Finally