“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
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 hiked all over that damn island! Bushwhacking with our loyal stray dogs. Two golden labs who found us on the beach and followed us all day. Compared to the rest of the island dogs they were bigger, whiter, furrier and seemingly more civilized. (Except when the young male snatched and crushed a baby chick … Continue reading Bushwacking Union Island
Today I know what I need. I feel it in my cells. They are thirsty for it, aching for it. To soak it in, to soak in it. I swim to shore. The water is too watery, too salty, too dry and windblown and barren. Today I do not need the sea. The sea is … Continue reading Almond Energy and Rasta Reasoning
Halfway between the Canaries and Barbados, Arek, one of the Polish boys on our crew, asked what the main difference was between childhood on a boat in St. John and childhood on land in Oregon. I thought harder than I usually do before answering questions about our unique childhood. Honestly, we left that lifestyle so … Continue reading Barefoot Freedom
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
