We heard it countless times before we left. This trip would be filled with the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. For me, this seems to be especially true depending on the sun’s position in the sky.
By day, I’m in heaven. We’re sailing heeled over with the wind and sun in our faces. The boat is solid. She’s doing exactly what she was made to do. Each day my own confidence in sailing grows. Look out pirates – you’d have your hands full if you tried to mess with us!
We then throw on weight belts, grab snares and conquer unexplored ocean depths. To my left, parrot fish of every color imaginable. To my right, eagle rays. Juvenile damsel fish? Yeah, I’ve seen them. Yesterday, we stalked then caught our first lobsters. Life just doesn’t get any better.
It is at these moments that I think of myself in grand terms. I am a conqueror of the wind and sea. I must be growing gills of my own I can stay under water for so long. Invincibility and immortality are soon to be mine. Cowboy ninja status indeed.
Then night falls.
At first, things are looking good. We make dinner (sometimes ramen, often Kraft mac and cheese, yesterday lobster). Have a few drinks. Settle into bed around 9 pm – because apparently living on a boat makes it nearly impossible to stay up later than that. Come 2 am, sleep has failed. The boat rocks. When Poseidon is seeking revenge for my hubris, the boat gets to rolling. The winds howl. The anchor chain creaks. Mooring balls get snagged and beat against the hull. On the first night of such sleep, it’s irritating, but not so bad. Come night 3 of this and I have reached full on schizophrenia. In my hallucinating half-awake state, everything that could possibly go wrong, does. The mosquito buzzing my ear carries malaria. I smell bad not because I haven’t had a proper non-seawater shower in a week, but because I have a deadly internal infection. I’m hot, not because the wind died, the boat is on fire. When you throw in my occasional sleepwalking habit, the nights get pretty interesting. Thank you Will for your patience, and for not kicking me out of our very small V berth.
But last night, I slept well. I usually do after a few sleepless doozies. Nothing like supreme exhaustion to keep those lids closed. And if a few rough nights is the worst we’ve encountered so far, then we’re doing ok. Back in San Francisco, I never could sleep on Sundays. But then, I was kept awake fretting over the next week’s worth of meetings to prepare for and all of the potential disasters that those could bring.
So I guess some things don’t change. But this is better.
And since Will can’t be the only one with projects, I took on the challenge of making our outboard stand out.
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