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!
I want to spend all day in the water. It soothes me. I feel pure, young, innocent. I think of you. I ask you to send me messages through the waves, answers. Can you hear me? Send me a wave. The water is clear, I see straight down to the dust-colored sand. The waves are … Continue reading Hillary
We leaned against the chrome railing overlooking the beach and watched dozens of surfers wobbling to their feet, toppling over, shooting boards at each other through the foam. The waves looked nice again, as they had in the morning, but just the sight of the bright ocean puckered my sunburned eyes and lips. My left … Continue reading Committed to Write
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
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
Life just flowed here in Santa Cruz. I worked, I surfed, I fixed up my little cabin, and helped around the property, trying to keep things clean and maintained. Construction was good for a while, but I still wanted to write, and massage. On January 5th, I went to San Francisco for a course in … Continue reading PHASE 2: MANIFEST VISION
When I arrived in November, Santa Cruz welcomed me with a flurry of serendipitous alignments. Nearly impossible opportunities rolled out beneath my shuffling feet, carrying me forward in my skeptical establishment of a life here. The main reason for my doubt? This place is expensive! Like $8-900-for-a-room expensive! I can’t afford that! More so, I … Continue reading PHASE 1: WELCOME
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