Gone

We are gone.

By the time you read this we will be many miles north, away from the dock, on our adventure.

Our last evening in Otter Bay has been special. It has also been quiet. My thoughts are about the passage, the weather, the tides.  I find it hard to think of anything else. Sarah understands and lets me be.

Tonight we watched the sun set and read stories at the fire pit. A wonderful distraction. As the evening cooled we headed to the boat, hand in hand.

The boat. It is heavy, laden with passage food and water and most everything we may need for several months. She feels right. This trip feels right.

Lots of supplies.

It is a time for moving on, a natural hunter-gatherer mentality imprinted in our genes, a gift from the not so distant past. We enjoy the anticipation of the trek, the moving of home for more then a vacation. It is a fundamental shift of where we live and how we live, and, like generations past, it is seasonal.

Look up the definition of midden.

That isn't sand.

For all those friends who have made us feel so welcome, thank you. You have welcomed us to your family. Tomorrow we must leave you for a third of the year, and we will remember you. We will be back.

But for now, with your blessing and the wind in our sails, we are gone.