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Why is it so effing cold in here. On a full belly of chicken stew my mind almost feels clear. I have to take another one of those damn pills soon and back into the fog I will slide. Another cold stormy night, the tropical days of riding my little Brompty through islands of Hawaii are but a distant memory.

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im exhausted from yesterday’s storm, boats… A good home for sure but my attention is being pulled in every direction, Sookie, Rainbow and Brompty all competing for our painfully short spring days. I’m still torn between the islands, Bellingham and Port Townsend but I have till the end of the month to figure it out.  I’m spazimg toward riding my little Brompton from the Artic circle, starting on the solstice and heading south. I need movement badly.

All of this being cooped up feels so claustrophobic, my muscles atrophying and my mind numb with boredom. Everything is so easy on the bike, ride, eat, sleep, repeat as necessary. In my blindness I’m finding the boat to be more of a master than a servant but the bike has no bounds. Far too many hours spent in my quarter berth studying the very beautiful interior of Sookie.  Aboard her I feel like I’m living inside a ukulele, I don’t want to give up my little home but the cold is too much, It taxes my days, my journal is a jumble of madness pictures of long winding roads, doodles of Brompty and upgrades, there are always upgrades.  A polar shift is happening, I can only imagine where it will find me.
“To bike, or not to bike: that is not a question”