Bonjour and similar greetings to all:
I haven't alot to add as we are still sitting in the relative safety of SW Florida and the Faka Union Canal, working on the boat when I get the energy and flying around the country from the Fort Myers airport to try and earn money I'm paid every 2 weeks.
There are a few pictures and a couple thoughts I wanted to share while I'm inspired (this really means I'd rather do this as opposed to some of the chores I should be doing). Great word, inspired.
Traci, the love of my life, the conqueror, looking like she just taught this aligator a "who's the boss" lesson and wants my Dad to know that this could easily be him if he doesn't tread lightly around her. This is how they get along and love each other.
It would appear that this big fellow is cruising around the boat waiting for revenge upon Traci but the truth is that it is now mating season and step on the deck at any given time and you'll see at least 3 of them.
Work progresses slowly on Daruma. It's hard to cut a precise angle on a piece of aluminum step trim with a hacksaw and one has to keep in mind the method and lengths of various attaching means or one will have a variety of screws hanging out of the bottom of the tunnel under the boat.
We broke down and purchased a new camera that is supposed to be good to 33ft of water depth, shoot video and add gps info to your pictures so I imagine they could be added to a program like Google Earth showing the exact location the picture was taken.I've often thought and tried to put into words why we choose to live this lifestyle so it could be explained to those who look at you like your from another planet or have a deathwish or something and the best explaination I could find was written by someone else in a copy of a magazine. It's sorta long but is a great summary.
"In half and hour we'll be anchored in the cove and I'll fix dinner without a microwave, food processor, blender or hand mixer. I'll knead bread sans Kitchen Aid dough hook, I'll wash the dishes with a non-electric foot pump, and we'll spend the evening reading by oil lamp rather than the blue flicker of a TV. (or I'll beat Traci at a game of crazy eights) Our weekend is a far cry from the work week in our condo in the central west end of St Louis, (our floating house on the river in the suburbs of the big city of Cardinal, Ontario) but it's one we hope to adopt full time soon. Our family thinks we're crazy, and aquaintances look askance at us whenever they hear of our plans to sell everything and sail away on our 42' Tartan. (our 40' cat) "Why would you do that?" they ask. So why indeed? It's a multi-faceted answer not easily understood by someone who doesn't sail. There is the need to be rid of the noise of the city, the confines of the cubicle and the hectic pace of living today, but to claim that as the whole answer cheapens the reality. How can I adequately describe the feeling of accomplishment to someone that sailing on and off an anchor gives me, or prop walking the boat to a perfect landing on the dock (few and far between) or weathering a nasty blow and having the old girl deliver us safely through it? How can I describe the caress of the breeze flowing over my face from the V-birth hatch as I rock to sleep gently in the anchorage, or the smell of baking bread wafting out into the cockpit as I read the piece of literature that I always told myself I'd get to some day when I had time? Oh yeah. Time. To read. I guess the best answer is a simple word. Freedom. Everywhere there are efforts to control my life, to fill it with an ever-escalating volume of input. Working in a windowless cubicle for a living, hammering out design jobs for a marketing firm, (not me), my day is handed to me in minutiae ad nauseam. The relentless deadline pressure to complete projects with which I have absolutely no meaningful connection drains me emotionally, spiritually, and even physically. The television programmers attempt to feed me a list of things they feel necessary for my happiness, providing a parade of fashionable role models to that end. The news networks fill my mind with fear and leave me looking over my shoulder every time I exit my car in a parking garage. There is the illusion of freedom to choose the way I want to live, but it occured to me recently that my life had changed course somewhere along the way, choreographed to some score written by the author of The American Dream - someone elses dream. Then through a bit of serendipity, I was introduced to sailing. It was an epiphany. As a weekend live-aboard, I'm untangling myself from the maze of competition for my attention, opening myself to new things. Would I have seen the flock of white pelicans soaring above me this morning if I had been stressing on the commute? Not likely. Would I take the time to feel the elasticity of a perfectly kneaded ball of bread dough yield under my hands? More than likely, I would buy a highly preserved loaf from the store on my way home, late from work. Being free doesn't mean living without responsibility. Every choice I make is balanced with an equal measure of it. Is it risky? Sure. There's no one to blame if I fail, but neither can anyone else claim responsiblity for my success. I could sit in an armchair watching my life pass me by in Technicolor, but I've decided to live it by sailing. It's not for everyone, for sure. It's demanding, it's difficult, it's challenging, it's sometimes scary, it's peaceful, it's amazing, it's infinitely rewarding.
Kinda sums it all for me 'cept I haven't kneaded dough on Daruma as yet, I don't work in the cubicle, we don't sleep in a V-birth and we do a little more than weekends but the rest is spot on. Our clock runs a little different speed........
