Sookie bobs at her anchor rode hobby horsing, pitching and rolling. The harbor is a crazy mix of huge power yachts and sailboats. The drone of sea planes buzz in our ears like mosquitos while wind gusts through the harbor mercilessly. Once again we have chosen the wrong anchorage.
We must be cold because heat is almost all we talk about. We look like aliens walking the town in our foulies where is out warm and dry but out in the anchorage its a different story. The dingy leaps and tumbles as we attempt to transfer Chloe for her third walk of the day. This simple act is made extremely labor intensive by the weather but must be quite an amusing sight to those on shore. Chloe is tolerant of our floating home as long as she gets shore leave every 6 hours.
For the first time in my life I can’t write, I don’t have writers block, there is so much to share I don’t know where to begin. Sitting in the cockpit we watch boats dragging their anchors across the harbor, there is nothing we can do, if we leave the boat we won’t be able to row back so we call the harbor on the VHF, they are useless. A Vancouver 27 is being pounded on the sea wall, we can’t understand why the guy doesn’t move his boat, then we watch him shove the boat off in a break between the gusts, he beats his engine-less boat through the mooring field and we are quite impressed. I feel fear for him as we watch the whole scene unfold. We shout encouragement, deep down I know that I have changed, my engineless days are over and I’m ok with it.
My tired canvas has pulled me on a thousand journeys all different yet somehow the same, this is Emily’s first real voyage on Sookie, Two weeks ago when we set off she was a a greenhorn, I watch her stare off at the horizon tiller in hand, for the first time ever I can go below and sleep in complete peace, Emily has become a sailor.
“To find yourself, think for yourself.”