Scuttlebutt
General chatter, observations and musings from the Captain
Read at your own peril.
Read at your own peril.
I decided to make this section a vessel for any kind of trivial I may write that wouldn’t be appropriate for the blog, and thus avoid exposing tender souls to my lighter, or sometimes much darker moments.
May 9th, 2017
48 34.742 North 122 56.383 West
One day in my youth I swam with mask and fins out past the breakwater of La Jolla, California. It would of been magical if a sea lion hadn’t come to see what I was up to, scaring the crap out of me. Ten feet under the surface and for a moment face to face with an animal larger then I. I’ll never forget that feeling.
Years later I look back and think that I’ve never really trusted the water, and yet I’ve always owned a boat. For some reason I longed to just go, go out, be afloat for whatever reason. True, owning power boats allowed me a sense of safety, the ability to smile as I accelerated through currents, fearless because I could always escape.
That doesn’t work with a sailboat. You are slow, very slow. The water pushes you anyway it wants, the wind is the power you must use. The engine is too small for escape. The only options are to give up, stay on land and forget the water, or come to terms with the fact that you don’t have to escape, and don't need to.
And you must trust your boat. With enough horsepower a wheelbarrow will fly across the bay, but that’s all. Sail a sturdy blue water sailboat and the world is open to you. There is nowhere you cant go.
So I guess the question is, what have I been afraid of? There isn’t anything the boat can’t handle here. Keep her off the rocks and she will always be the best escape, protection even in the worst storm. It really comes down to trusting myself, the boat, and trusting water.
48 34.742 North 122 56.383 West
One day in my youth I swam with mask and fins out past the breakwater of La Jolla, California. It would of been magical if a sea lion hadn’t come to see what I was up to, scaring the crap out of me. Ten feet under the surface and for a moment face to face with an animal larger then I. I’ll never forget that feeling.
Years later I look back and think that I’ve never really trusted the water, and yet I’ve always owned a boat. For some reason I longed to just go, go out, be afloat for whatever reason. True, owning power boats allowed me a sense of safety, the ability to smile as I accelerated through currents, fearless because I could always escape.
That doesn’t work with a sailboat. You are slow, very slow. The water pushes you anyway it wants, the wind is the power you must use. The engine is too small for escape. The only options are to give up, stay on land and forget the water, or come to terms with the fact that you don’t have to escape, and don't need to.
And you must trust your boat. With enough horsepower a wheelbarrow will fly across the bay, but that’s all. Sail a sturdy blue water sailboat and the world is open to you. There is nowhere you cant go.
So I guess the question is, what have I been afraid of? There isn’t anything the boat can’t handle here. Keep her off the rocks and she will always be the best escape, protection even in the worst storm. It really comes down to trusting myself, the boat, and trusting water.
May 5th, 2017
48 34.742 North 122 56.383 West
Late at night, winter’s last breath brings soft moans from the rigging.
With lights out I pause to listen,
hoping to hear your wishes and dreams.
And there you are.
Past twilight the waves calm and bring a peace.
My mind wonders to explore the hope of spring where you are there waiting, expecting.
I see what will be and smile.
I think of how far we have come and feel humbled by the simple, quiet path we will follow.
But every effort needs a guide, a symbol and desire to lead on.
And there you are.
You are the muse I seek.
You keep me on the path and see me on my way.
I am so excited, so entranced with the world and all it offers, all we will take.
When overwhelmed (often the case), I try and relax, remember why I am here and who I am here for.
I reach out for that one thing that makes my world so unique and beautiful.
And there you are.
Thank you.
48 34.742 North 122 56.383 West
Late at night, winter’s last breath brings soft moans from the rigging.
With lights out I pause to listen,
hoping to hear your wishes and dreams.
And there you are.
Past twilight the waves calm and bring a peace.
My mind wonders to explore the hope of spring where you are there waiting, expecting.
I see what will be and smile.
I think of how far we have come and feel humbled by the simple, quiet path we will follow.
But every effort needs a guide, a symbol and desire to lead on.
And there you are.
You are the muse I seek.
You keep me on the path and see me on my way.
I am so excited, so entranced with the world and all it offers, all we will take.
When overwhelmed (often the case), I try and relax, remember why I am here and who I am here for.
I reach out for that one thing that makes my world so unique and beautiful.
And there you are.
Thank you.
