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It isn’t about the boat or how far and fast we can sail.  It isn’t about the Islands or the many harbors we have visited.  It isn’t about food nor drink nor any other carnal pleasure.  Its all about the sun, the freedom and the very essence of summer.  The sun, sea, salt caked bodies and the icy cold chill of salt water as we shiver dry once again warm, alive, invigorated.  Vitamin D overload at its best, straight from the source and as pure and natural as the life we breath.

sailing naked

Winter is dead and the sun and the moon sometimes argue over who will tuck me in at night. I’m hungry, my hibernation is over. In 58 short days our sunset will be at 7:08pm giving us more than 12 hours a day of pure golden light.  Spring is coming early this year.  Golden sun kissed bodies, hair as blonde as the balmy winds that caress our bare skin and for all of nature new life is blooming.  Nake butt season is coming

Last night we crossed most of the refit Items off of our list, pushed our departure date up 60 days and made one final list of must haves, for our last season in Washington.  I have started shopping for new Bikinis for Emily and found Mankini for myself for when we need to be modest.  Less clothes, less laundry less hauling water.  Our little floating Island is tugging at her lines, Emily is near her breaking point of being chained to a desk under florescent lights.  I am ready to take my small family north into the Banana belt.  We’ve started tightening our belts, the more self sufficient we become the longer we can play before chasing summer South and East.

The time has come to Clean up little Sookie, burn our winter fat and turn this boat from a live-aboard to a cruising boat.  Saying Goodbye to San Juan’s and the Salish Sea will be hard but a new world is calling us.  Its going to be one hellova going away party.

“Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through weather and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea,
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning. ”
~ Pablo Neruda