I wake up with a crick in my back, I roll over and feel my entire body cracking into alignment, it’s time for a bit of tent yoga. Going through my journal this is my 51st day in the last year sleeping in a tent, then there was the tin shed I had in Oregon for a few months, not half as creepy as the adandoned clam plant I lived in for serveral months a few years back.
Hotels, hostels and couches filled the rest of the year minus about 100 days on board Sookie. I sure will be happy to be a full time liveaboard again but I don’t see that happening this year, or any time in the near future. I’m slowly packing her for a long nap.
It’s cool in the tent in the mornings, today I was awoken by a very loud fog horn, I almost jumped out of my skin thinking I was being run down in the right, quite the rude awakening. It’s still cold and foggy but I can already feel the tent warming which will chase me away till near sunset. My time would be better spent working on the boat but I think I have a long slow ride in me and then a nice afternoon nap under an old shady tree. I don’t get my once a week shower till tomorrow so today it will be a swim in the frigid waters somewhere off the south end of the island, then I will lay around like a sea lion letting the sun warm my naked body before jumping back on the bike for the long downwind ride home.
I’m tired and can’t seem to find my boundless summer energy but I’m also working hard and getting stronger by the day. My body is getting drunk off of vitiman D, water is my new drug of choice, cool and refreshing from my metal bottle. There are no more meals, just snack, all day little bits of chewy crunchy love filling me with enough energy to find the next sidetrack in my slow island life.
Unlike my recent jaunt to the tropics these islands don’t have hurricane force winds at this time of year or torrential rains. There are no scorpions, turanchulas, fire ants, centipedes, or any of the other creepy crawlies that kept me in such good company in my little island paradise. The San Juan islands are the safest and least toxic place in the entire northern hemisphere, yawn. Maybe a quick nap and one more cup of coffee before I start my day.
There are things I need to tell you, but would you listen if I told you how quickly time passes?
I know you are unable to imagine this.
Nevertheless, I can tell you that you will awake someday to find that your life has rushed by at a speed at once impossible and cruel. The most intense moments will seem to have occurred only yesterday and nothing will have erased the pain and pleasure, the impossible intensity of love and its dog-leaping happiness, the bleak blackness of passions unrequited, or unexpressed, or unresolved.”
― Meg Rosoff, What I Was