The boiling frog story is a widespread anecdote describing a frog slowly being boiled alive. The premise is that if a frog is placed in boiling water, it will jump out, but if it is placed in cold water that is slowly heated, it will not perceive the danger and will be cooked to death. The story is often used as a metaphor for the inability or unwillingness of people to react to significant changes that occur gradually.
Call it what you want but we should be shoveling snow at this time of year not out sailing. Each year winter has been easier and warmer here in the Pacific Northwest, we aren’t complaining. Like the frog analogy I have been slowly sneaking new experiences into Emily’s quiver. Her last trip was the windiest she has seen on Sookie even though it was little more than a moderate breeze. By gradually upping the ante each mile further off shore is nothing more than business as usual. By the time she loses sight of land she has already forgotten it was ever there. I have so many friends who have taken their loved ones out for the first time, scared the hell out of them and now sail alone.
A big puff hit us and we heard something crash inside the boat, we both wondered what we forgot to stow. It turned out that it was Chloe who fell into a pile of pillows on the cabin sole. She got the last laugh as my breakfast ended up on her head and soon in her satisfied belly. A bit later as the wind picked up she fell back into her berth and all was well in her world. There was a good bit of traffic in the straits and we joined in with the Race around Shaw Island. There were quite a few annoyed stares from racers when they couldn’t shake our fat little boat but we were careful to stay out of their way and had to de-power the main as not to pass them.
Back at the dock I asked Emily how she felt out there and her only reply was that the motor scared her. Every day she is begging to get back out on the water. By the time she gets to experience her first gale it will be just another day on the water. It might be sneaky always leaving her a bit hungry but I’ve got her hook, line and sinker, my days of catch and release are over.
“Anyone can be a fisherman in May.” ~ Ernest Hemingway