Sitting in the cockpit a million stars stare back at me. The forrest s alive with a symphony of frogs silenced by the occasional shrieking we still haven’t been able to identify. The trees are budding, the eagles have returned and spring is rapidly creeping in.
The increase of traffic on the docks tells us the seasons have changed. Today is the 4 year anniversary of the day I made a hand shake deal on Sookie without a single penny in my pocket. I didn’t take delivery until April 2, 2011, the delivery company literally stole the boat but we got her back in relatively good form. There was nothing wrong with the boat when I purchased her but she was old and tired.
Having a dog in tow makes finding any job nearly impossible, I refuse to leave her locked in the boat, a back yard or anywhere; she is and always has been my constant companion so I knew refitting this boat would go slow. I made a very conservative 5 year plan, not to make her perfect but to bring her back to her most basic form of glory. The past 4 years have had their fair share of struggle but every second has been worth it and now we are finally sitting at the edge ready to take the next step.
We have a small handful of charts and keep finding new ones. There is no plan, no destination, no… Sookie is literally 90% done and we have few glorious months to get her out for sea trials and to truly learn how much we need and what we can get away without. Next year will be the last we have to really do her right. Fort Meyers has wonderful boat yards, riggers, sailmakers everything at our finger tips and will make the best of them but that is a long way off from where we are now.
Sitting on my galley counter is a box filled with fasteners, cotter pins, stray lengths of pre measured lines, all sort of this and that. My job these days is to complete the puzzle, when the box is empty the next stage of the journey begins.
Sitting bug eyed under fluorescent lights, stifeled by her office environment Emily is ready to snap, every day could be her last but she is holding on well all things considered. She suffers through knowing full well that this may be the last time she ever has to live in a cubicle. I feel her pain but I’ve been there. I also know its a good pain to have, that quiet form of desperation the teaches us that we will do anything to be free.
We might not feel it now but I know we will both miss living on old San Juan. Today she is just another pit stop to re-filling the kitty but she will always be the place we set off from, together.
“We can’t stop here, this is bat country!”
~ Hunter S. Thompson