Hilton Head Island: foggy new year; 18,420; 43

 

The last sunset of 2022 was foggy as is the first dawn of 2023.  I cannot see the other side of Skull Creek.  But the temperature is again in the 60sF/16C and I am again in t-shirt and shorts.

For the first time in decades, except possibly while sailing when I am often up at midnight, I was awake last night when the year changed.  This was caused by the wild football game between Georgia and Ohio State.  I seldom see to the end any game that starts after 8 pm, but this one kept me up, sipping Laphroaig, until the last second failed field goal attempt which took place almost exactly at midnight in the Eastern Time Zone.  With the earlier equally uncertain and even higher scoring game between Michigan and TCU, it was a remarkably entertaining afternoon and evening of football.

An accounting:

I worked out last year 114 times.  That is my third highest total since I started keeping statistics in 2004.  I started doing so then because I found myself making too frequent excuses to miss workouts. Of those 114, I went to the 100 level 8 times.  In 2021 I went to the 100 level 20 times.  In 2020 34 times.  Clearly I am getting weaker.  Or lazier.  

The 114 workouts resulted in 18,420 push-ups for the year.  I did more crunches than that because I do 100 with 20 pounds of weight on my chest during my weight workout, but I do not always record them, so I don’t know the exact number.

2022 was a quiet and uneventful year for me.  I did not sail much and overnight only twice, down to St. Mary’s to haul out and anti-foul and back.  I wrote only one article for publication which I was asked to do by GOOD OLD BOAT magazine.  I find that I have not included it on the articles page of the main site and will rectify that.

Both CRUISING WORLD and SAIL changed editors during 2022.  I vaguely know one, not the other.

I like to believe that I may have written some worthwhile entries in this journal.

While I did not sail much, I read more than usual.  43 books from July through December.

July-December  2023

ANATOMY OF A KILLING   Ian Cobain

BARRABAS   Par Lagerkvist

WHEN THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD WAS SUBDUED,

OUR SONGS CAME THROUGH  edited by Joy Harjo

NIGHT TRAIN TO LISBON   Pascal Mercier

SHANGHAI 1937   Peter Harmsen

THE UNDERDOGS   Mariano  Azuela

THE MAIAS   Eca de Queiros

LEGIONNAIRE   Simon Murray

SAILING TRUE NORTH   James Starvidis

DEAR JULIA:  The Wartime Letters of Ulysses S. Grant to His Wife

VICTORY   Joseph Conrad

PROSPERO’S CELL   Lawrence Durrell

THE LAST DUEL   Eric Javier

WORLD WAR II MAP BY MAP  The Smithsonian

THE COURIER   Kjell  Ola Dahl

THE ROBBER BARONS`   Matthew Josephson

OUR MAN IN CHARLESTON   Christopher Dickey

THE GREAT WAR WITH RUSSIA   William Howard Russell

SHADOWS AND OTHER STORIES   Webb Chiles

FEAR   Gabriel Chevallier

THE LAST STAND   Nathaniel Philbrick

COOPER’S CREEK   Alan Moorehead

THE BLUE FLOWER   Penelope Fitzgerald

  THE POETRY OF ZEN   translated by Sam Hamill and J.P. Seaton

     THOUSAND CRANES   Yasunari Kawabata

THE WIND AT MORNING   James Vance Marshall

KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON   David Grann

JAPANESE DEATH POEMS   compiled by Yoel Hoffmann

BOLIVAR   Robert Harvey

THE GENERAL IN HIS LABYRINTH   Gabriel Garcia Marquez

THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH VERSE 1900 edition

PERMANENT RECORD   Edward Snowden

SEA OF GLORY   Nathaniel Philbrick

PURE   Andrew Miller

THE GREATEST DAY IN HISTORY   Nicholas Best 

THE MASTER OF GO   Yasunari Kawabata

SECOND WIND  Nathaniel Philbrick

26 STORIES   Machado de Assis

MOUNTAIN HOME:  The Wilderness Poetry of Ancient China

WINTER WORDS IN VARIOUS MOODS AND METRES   Thomas Hardy

SHAME AND THE CAPTIVES   Thomas Keneally

THE WHITE SHIP   Charles Spence

THE RIVER OF THE GODS   Candice Milliard

I have never made new year’s resolutions, but I do hope this year to sail offshore for a week or two.  For someone whose time has been his own for almost fifty years, I have found having three or four weeks completely free surprisingly difficult.  Holidays, deliveries, workmen, and the hurricane season all intrude.  I have hopes for March.

About a week ago the ebbing tide exposed a large white object in the spartina just beyond the live oak trees outside our windows.  It looked like a rudder.  The tides ebbed and the tides flooded and the object remained a blight in my view.  Yesterday was the first without rain for an while and I put on an old pair of shoes, climbed down the bank and gingerly made my way to it.  It is a centerboard.  I know not from where.  It was unexpectedly heavy, but thanks to 9,300 push-ups this old man managed to lift and carry it to a construction dumpster in our parking lot.  My view is restored.

I wish all of you a fine 2023.