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.