Wednesday, August 27, 2008

an ocean venture

A simple question in the middle of a simple conversation reminded me of the ocean and the idea of different perspectives. I was explaining a trip I had taken, where I sailed solo from Masonborrow for 18 hours straight into the ocean. Nearly seventy miles later I was forced to turn around so that I would make it home in time to return to work on Monday. Why? Who does that? Those are the standard questions asked when talking about this weekend. Well I had an answer; I needed a new perspective, and let me tell you the ocean did not fail.

At first you can see the land and you are comfortable, many days and nights have been spent cruising up and down the Carolina beaches filling you with the illusion of control. The weather is calm the seas are low and the water is relatively flat. The wind is from the south east giving you an easy beat straight out into the ocean. Setting the auto helm and adjusting the sails you look around to ensure no others are on your line and you are free to move around. A little plastic cup with some scotch burns your mouth as you stare backwards at the shore. Already the rocks of the inlet are lost to the small swells and chop. The landfall has turned into a shaded edging to the ocean and only barely discernable. This is still close enough that your mind does not race from one weak point of the boat to another, close enough that the sounds of the seas have not overtaken your senses. Soon though, you have past across the horizon and land is gone. So too are the other boats, there is almost nothing now except the occasional bird. The wind has held steady. Hours pass and you go below to get some more to drink and to bring topside a book and some pillows, it is time to relax and sleep before the boat takes you out to the blue water. At some point loneliness will wash over you, it will be instant and intense. Knowing that the trip is for only so many hours helps calm this inescapable feeling. Now that you have been on the water for five or so hours headed due east into the middle of the Atlantic, all of your senses have built and you can hear every creak and strain of the rigging, you can feel the ocean breath as the seas rise and fall around you. You life shrinks to insignificance under the awesome weight of the seas. You can almost feel Poseidon reach up and grab your ship and push her forward. The recognition of your place in the world is the ultimate change in perspective and a clear constant reminder of the power of nature. You have come to grips with the inevitable, that you have no control and that your fate is intimately entwined with that of the world around you. Eight more hours and the decks are awash in blue water. The stars above you are bright and clear, the Milky Way is a visible path stretched across the sky. The trepidation that you had felt melts away with the wonders of the ocean night. The breeze has picked up and you can hear its whispering. Speaking to you of adventures and dangers that dreams and story books are made of, it is this voice that you have fallen in love with; it is why you adventure out. It is this voice that reminds you that you do have some control, that you can reach out with both hands on the wheel and change course. You can push harder into the wind, or bare off, you can turn and run with the wind or just go home. In the end it was your choice that had taken you to the edge of the continental shelf and it will be your choice that will bring you back. It is at this point you have finally shaken hands with the seas and made your pact with Poseidon. So you turn around refreshed and happy. With a renewed sense of self awareness, you have seen the world from another vantage point, and have regained perspective on life. The work is hard and brining the boat into port, but you are filled with the steadfast will of a new man.

so-pines

Your friends can tell you that you are being played but in the back of your mind you secretly hold tightly to the idea that maybe if you just give it time… Well in my short time in Southern Pines I have been successfully played by a cute 32 year old woman. She is a lot of what I want and only a little of what I fear I don’t want; but none the less, I have pursued and dealt with rejection and a hesitant acceptance, only to find that it has been conditional. She is using me for some type of social interaction, or just for conversation, or maybe she does like me and just hasn’t realized it. But that is the very notion that continues to allow her to play me. She has already made up her mind. She has already in her mind moved forward but allows this farce to continue as long as it doesn’t interrupt her schedule. Damn do my failures continue to haunt me. The failures of Colorado opened the door to a new way to live that would have I assume, allowed me to live within the normalcy of humanity. That I would be able to feel love and passion and true concern for others. Well I now can, and I do not like the feeling. I do not enjoy the constant needs that it inspires within me. I am wasting space and time on a dead end. The only sad thing is I feel comfortable around the girl, I feel content, I feel that I could give the relationship a chance, and here I am constantly reminded that she will not even think about it. Ah fuck it, I do not have time for this shit and I will move on, I will hopefully regain my composure. I will regain the initiative and move forward or in this case backwards toward what I used to hold has my shining shield in the face of all odds. I must rebuild the walls that have been torn down over the course of time.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Massonborrow Morning

The slow rotation of the earth returns the sun to my face a few minutes earlier than I would have liked. Though it is not fair of me to blame the earth for my early morning, it very well could have been the constant clanging of metal on metal that echoed throughout the harbor. The morning current rocking the boats in the pier, slapping stays and halyards against masts’ in a constant clanging that is relaxing and reassuring. The chimes are matched with the rhythmic splash of the water against hulls, bringing a solid beat to your morning. Sitting up in the port settee, I look out the port hole and find a world filled with fiberglass, stainless steel and canvass. The warmth of the morning sun slowly works its way into the fan cooled cabin, tossing the sheets I climb out into the world and am hit with the sharp smell of salt sea air and the smile spreads across my face. Arms stretched wide I embrace the morning at the water’s edge, rubbing my eyes I greet a salty old man, with tanned leathery skin as he motors his boat out into the ocean, with a wave and a good morning. His smile back, is the consummate reassurance of my acceptance into his world of wind and water. Bare chest is the dress code of the coastal morning and I am a believer in fitting in, wrapping a bandana around my curly hair, I boil a pot of water and make stiff coffee. Most of the pier is already awake and working on their various tasks. Across from me I can see the fishing poles and lines being prepared for the days catch, on the far side of the marina a crew is preparing to detail a rich mans boat, everywhere you hear the sounds of human activity, yet it is not the same bustle as the city, not the same roar that screams out urgency. It is the whisper of a day well spent in the sun and spray. It is the camaraderie of the ocean that brings each of us to our rightful spot on the continental edge. Below where I stand the colors of the water reflect the suns escalation into the sky, spitting out blues and greens across the harbor. Brown tanned men living in a perpetual squint from the sun wander by the finger pier and smile and wave.
I am deciding what I will do with this morning. I have already turned the radio on to hear the latest on the weather just outside the inlet, my bowl of oatmeal is already made and am listing to the winds as I eat. Decision made, I stand and start the engine. Casting off, I motor out into the open waters and raise my sails skyward to the heavens waiting for the breath of god to push me out to sea.