Finding inspiration in the wake of a legend.
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
I Am A Writer
“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.” Continued from - "Valli's World, Collooney Ireland" It was 4:45. Something woke me. I think my phone buzzed, and now I had to pee. I ducked out of the mosquito net … Continue reading I Am A Writer
Trapped in Paradise
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
Frank the Security Guard
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
Bushwacking Union Island
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
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!
Committed to Write
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
Ireland is for Walkers
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