Sunday, November 3, 2024

Hilton Head Island: an anniversary a day late

 


I woke not long after midnight and realized that yesterday marked the 50th anniversary of my departing for what would become my first attempt at Cape Horn.

EGREGIOUS had no engine.  As you can see the mainsail was up.  When I dropped the line in my left hand I was off into the being part of my life.

I could not have imagined what was ahead.  Six circumnavigations.  A cell in Saudi Arabia.  At least eight storms with hurricane force winds.  Adrift for two weeks.  Swimming for twenty-six hours.  A million or so words.  Suzanne was a year and a half ahead.  Jill nine years ahead.  Carol twenty years ahead.  Or that I would today be living in the marsh and finding beauty and a little peace here.  

The photo was taken by a newspaper photographer.  I do not know how they knew of me.  I did not tell them.

From STORM PASSAGE the part of Yeats poem, ‘An Irish Airman Foresees His Death’ I quoted at the beginning of the book and the first entry.




5 comments:

  1. “Storm Passage” is a thoroughly enjoyable read! Thanks for sharing!
    Rich

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  2. Jim Gruenwald (San Diego)November 3, 2024 at 5:13 PM

    Carl Mehr (deceased now and I 85) saw you off from Harbor Island with a case of beer, wine or champagne.

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  3. JD in NZ

    The words from Storm Passage in this post may make (strike that) made you a better writer than a sailor! You are a pretty good sailor.

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  4. I appreciate your evaluation of me as a writer, but I disagree.

    For most of my life I considered myself a writer more than anything else, although I knew that there are three essential parts of my being: words, wind, women.

    Several years ago I understood that all three of those are equal. My sailing is quantifiable. Writing and my relations with women are not. But all are equally essential.

    Of women, two have been part of my life far longer than any others. My mother for twenty-one negative years and Carol for thirty positive years and counting. Yet Carol does not read much of what I write and so knows me in ways lessor and greater than do you who do read what I write.

    I am grateful for whatever understanding any give me, close or far, and will continue on as I believe I should.

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  5. Words still bring meaning! Long live the written word.

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