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When Sookie arrived in Bellingham from a tiny obscure storage yard in the Port of Los Angeles her hatch was wide open and everything inside was wet.  The gimbal on her stove was sheered clean off and the beautiful side load teak and rosewood door of her refrigeration unit was broken beyond repair.  I was just happy to have my boat as it had literally been kidnapped by my cooked shipping company.

This is one of my favorite images in my memory banks, her captain circumnavigated solo.  I love the fact that the first circumnavigation on this fine design was done by a sailor girl.

There is nothing in The world more un natural than a boat out of water and I’m already freaked out at the prospect of shipping Sookie again.  I sent out for three shipping quotes although I really wish I had a trailer for her.  I sent a letter to  Yves Gélinas  for help with his Cape Horn wind vanes.  Sent one last plea for the vane I want, maybe the seller will change his mind.  I hired a broker to list Sookie and before the end of the day I will submit an offer on a Halberg Rassey 36 in Italy. I’m not even remotely freaked out about buying a boat sight unseen, it’s actually an adventure and I can fix anything I need to when and if I arrive.

So I’ve opted for every channel on the planet to getting back to warm water.  Sell, ship or sail it’s all very exciting.  Deep down shipping is what I want most, Sookie would love the Caribbean.  I can already feel the smooth cobble stone roads under my feet, the history of pirates and sailors and the legends of lost gold.  It’s time to resume my treasure hunting ways.

Sipping on a glass of Caribbean rum I could taste the dry warm breeze of the tropical paradise that will be my home before Christmas I snuggled into my berth as Orion slipped into the horizon.  I’ve been missing Chloe more that ever and with so many dogs on the dock it makes me feel even more alone, she was always my right hand.

It was the kind of town that made you feel like Humphrey Bogart: you came in on a bumpy little plane, and, for some mysterious reason, got a private room with balcony overlooking the town and the harbor; then you sat there and drank until something happened.” 

― Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Dairy

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