Monday, March 16, 2015

Evanston: after the storm; from others; gone

        I had an email late yesterday from Mike that GANNET has survived Pam unscathed.   Mike runs Yachtcare and I have paid him a modest sum to look in on GANNET from time to time in my absence.  His email was considerate and appreciated.
        GANNET is so light that she is easy on moorings.  A greater concern was that other boats might break free and smash into her.  Experience of the sea often makes sailors fatalistic, and I do not worry much about what I can’t control.
        This morning I received the above photo taken by a man named Rob, an acquaintance of a friend, as he rowed by GANNET after the storm.  I thank him.
        The little boat looks to be much as I left her.  I’m eager to be back on board and curious to find how much water made it down below.
        The harbor does not look as muddy as I would have expected from runoff after a major storm.


        From Jim comes this link to an amusing video of a song, “Six Months In a Leaky Boat” by the 80s New Zealand group, Split Enz.  I thank him.
        I wonder what made him think of me?
        Here are the lyrics:

When I was a young boy, I wanted to sail around the world
That's the life for me, living on the sea
Spirit of a sailor, circumnavigates the globe
The lust of a pioneer, will acknowledge no frontier

I remember you by, thunderclap in the sky
Lightning flash, tempers flare, 'round the horn if you dare
I just spent six months in a leaky boat
Lucky just to keep afloat

Aotearoa, rugged individual
Glisten like a pearl, at the bottom of the world
The tyranny of distance, didn't stop the cavalier
So why should it stop me? I'll conquer and stay free

Ah c'mon all you lads, let's forget and forgive
There's a world to explore, tales to tell back on shore
I just spent six months in a leaky boat
Six months in a leaky boat

Ship-wrecked love can be cruel, don't be fooled by her kind
There's a wind in my sails will protect and prevail
I just spent six months in a leaky boat
Nothing to it leaky boat

        Obviously I’m not a real sailor.  I don’t dance jigs, have a beard or wear a captain’s cap.  Or want to.


        From Eric in still frozen Montreal comes a poem for which I thank him.

Now you are alone and the ocean waits
When your eyes will study the sky far away
Alone with yourself and sinking into yourself
When the salty mist burns your skin and fills your lungs
And when you feel all your limbs numb
Time will stop and begin your destiny
You will leave like gannets plunge into the sea
You will see the pilot of the Pinta flying like an elf
And you’ll drink Laphroaig with Slocum on Spray
On the ocean veil sailing with your new mates


       I expect the next entry to be written on water.