Two days back on terra firma, the motion of the ocean continues. A slight case of land sickness follows me down the dock. It only takes a quick turn of the head... up, down or to the side to bring a brief sensation of surfing down a wave.
The barrage of questions have begun.. "Well, have you got it out of your system yet?" "Are you done?" "How can you bear living in such a small space?" And the most heartbreaking question of all, "When are you moving home forever Mom Mom?" hits hard. The answers are no, no, it's big enough to be comfortable, and finally, dear seven year old granddaughter Lexi, I don't know, but I will carry you my heart wherever I go.
Imagine will soon leave its watery berth for a spot on land for the summer. Major maintenance projects will fill the hot summer days and most likely cause me to wonder why I want to continue to do this thing called cruising. Images of aquamarine waters, deserted beaches, and kayaking over reefs while family and friend scrape ice and snow from their cars should keep me on track.
The entire head (toilet) will come out. The floor and pedestal must be rebuilt. Hoses that only a contortionist can reach must be replaced under the sink. The overhead (ceiling) will be dismantled so that all cabin top deck hardware can be re-bedded. That means all 14 over head lights must be taken down as well. The mast boot that keeps water from coming in needs to be replaced. Anchor chain must be replaced. A shackle that doesn't fit through the bow roller will be upgraded. It gets old lifting the 45-pound anchor over the roller each time the anchor is deployed and brought back on board.
That is only the beginning of the fun. The entire bottom paint must be removed and sanded down to fiberglass as large chips are flaking. The deck around rear stanchions have cracks than must be ground out and re-glassed, courtesy of a storm at sea which caused the straps holding a dinghy in the davits to chafe. That in turn caused the dinghy to swing violently enough to bend the davits and cause the cracks. The non-skid needs to be repainted and bright work as well. Are you tired yet? I am.
Canvas must come off for repairs at the snaps. Saltwater plays havoc on the zippers. Some have to be replaced. The radar must be fixed. The water maker needs a new end cap. The 30 year old propane oven and stove will be refitted. Portholes will also come out for re bedding. Old gaskets on all hatches and portholes will be removed and replaced. New copper sheathing will be run inside along the hull for the single sideband radio connection quality.
Oh yes, in case you haven't guessed. Imagine has a leak, a major leak coming from over the starboard settee, but only when it rains or when salt water washes over the decks.
Ed and I will do all repairs and upgrades ourselves. We will probably get into a few arguments over how to get the work done. I lean towards the perfectionist side. He is more of a minimalist. Sometimes compromise is in order, sometimes not.
When things get overwhelming and I feel like chucking it all and going back to the status quo kind of life, I'll have to stop and remember why the blue water keeps calling me back.
Durning nearly 20 years working at Meals on Wheels too many clients and volunteers lamented about dreams they never lived. The story goes, "We were always going to do that, but my wife (or husband) got sick." Living a dream sometimes means sacrifice. In my case. I seem to always be saying goodbye to family and friends. I miss my grandchildren. I get to do boat maintenance that I'd rather not.
On the flip side, I get to kayak along sea turtles and dolphins. I watch starfish move ever so slowly along a white sandy bottom. At night I watch meteor showers streak across the sky. Beaches offer treasures of shells and sea glass. There are uninhabited islands to explore. Soft tropical breezes caress my face.
Sailing has gifted me with experiences that have etched into my memories. The brilliant indescribable hues and colors of water that change from moment to moment as the sun and clouds move across the sky never cease to capture my imagination. Blue holes, tropic birds, and ghost crabs that scamper across the fine white sand of an empty beach cause me to appreciate nature at its best.
I've watched pods of pilot whales breach in Exuma Sound. Pink Iguanas came out from the brush and rocky hiding places to greet us on the beach at Leaf Cay. On other days, I hiked through blooming tropical bushes on the way to the beach. Colorful anolis lizards sporting colors of green and blue race across the path to hide in the foliage. In the morning evidence that hermit crabs and sea turtles roamed the beaches at night are left by a criss crossing if tracks.
Working on the boat isn't going to be fun, but that's why it's called work. Living on a boat requires a lot of maintenance. The call of the blue water beckons. The work must get done before the call can be answered again, at least for one more year.
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