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
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)
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!
Comfort in the creation of a craftswoman.
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
Continued from - "Newfoundland, Canada" The next morning dawned clear and crisp, blue skies extending from hills to horizon, the first we'd seen in weeks. The fresh 30 knot breeze from the days before had simmered to a gentle, but steady, westerly. As we spoke of ice bergs and visibility, I realized that we would … Continue reading Finally the Whales! And I threw up…
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
Knowing Home 