Sunday, May 3, 2015

Opua: walked; finished; sin; what God could have done

        I walked into Pahia on Friday.  Four miles; 6.5 kilometers; 12,663 steps.  Some of those steps were before and after the walk.  My app was thrilled and awarded me the Great Day badge.  
        I don’t have my iPhone on me when I’m on GANNET and I often don’t take it ashore.  It would be interesting to stick it in my pocket and see how many steps it thinks I take on a day when I stay aboard.  
        The photos are in sequence.
        As you can see the tide was out so I was able to go around rather than over the last hill as I prefer.  Quieter and prettier on the tidal flats.
        There is a trail along the bay’s edge most of the way between Opua and Pahia, but it is often a narrow path with a steep drop off, and with my compromised depth perception I am no longer comfortable taking it.

        Yesterday I painted the bins on either side of me at Central, touched up paint elsewhere, applied more oil to the cabin sole and tiller, and scrubbed mold on the port side of the stern.
        Today I removed the two clothes bags, slithered aft, sprayed and scrubbed mold in the starboard side of the stern.  This is a space without ventilation and there was some question as to whether Exit Mold would kill mold or me.  Or both.
        I unpacked the harbor and passage clothes bags and found that I had far too many passage shorts and t-shirts.  I threw out several.  Two t-shirts became designated rags.
        I have almost no remaining long sleeved passage shirts or passage Levis.  I didn’t need them much sailing from San Diego to here and won’t next year either; but I will bring some old clothes with me when I next return from Evanston.
        GANNET’s interior is again a joy to behold.


        The rally didn’t really register with me until it left.  But when it did I realized that it was the cause of the miserable overcrowding at the dinghy dock last week.  Boats were two and three deep.  A situation made decidedly worse by those who tied up short.  Two big inflatables, 12’ or 14’ long, were chained up short every day I rowed in, blocking access to a significant portion of the dock.
        Tying up short to a dinghy dock is rude.  Chaining up short is a sin that ought to be punished by eternal torment in one of the lower circles of Hell.
        It won’t be.
        Unfortunately life rewards aggression and selfishness.  Push and bully your way to more food from your parents than your siblings, be you eagle or lion or human, and you grow bigger and have a better chance of surviving and reproducing.  I wish it weren’t so.
        To no surprise the two big inflatables have not been at the dinghy dock since the herd left.


        While sitting at the Marina Cafe yesterday waiting for my food to be served, I idly thumbed through a magazine left on the table and came across:
        “Just think what God could have done if he had the money.” —Groucho Marx