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By noon I had reached my personal limit of exhaustion, weeks without a day off, Sunday is supposed to be an easy day.  The straits were throwing a tantrum which meant I had a pile of frazzled boaters, some staying some hiding but all of them having massive issues docking.  Blown furlers, boats dragging anchor and breaking waves over the entire end tie had my 15 hour day filled.

I woke up crumpled in a heap of my own pitiful state lying on the dock like a piece of doggie poo.  The day started out promising, I actually obtained a cook pot and wind screen, some string, and low and behold two pairs of socks to go with my new kicks, yep this sailor now has a new pair of shoes in the mail.  I gave up on water proof pants and picked up a pair of running tights with a killer print on them to keep me warm in the cool mornings and having completely given up on a bright pink don’t run me over cover up I got a Terry thermal wrap to cover my junk.  I was feeling pretty satisfied and broke when I met a very hungry girl living in her boat.  She didn’t have enough to cover her groceries so I covered it with a bit to spare for her and now I feel like a huge pile of shit having all this new gear when I’m reminded of how many people struggle just to eat in this world.

Somewhere between her and there I dropped for the count till I was awoken by a girl on the dock with a cold beer and a hand up.  Refreshed and ready to rumble I made it back to Sookie and sanded till the sun went down.  My feet hurt so badly I can barely walk but it’s tent time and my favorite time of the day when I can pile into my little cocoon and sleep like the dead, after a great glass of J.Scott that is 🙂

“When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.” 

― Hélder Câmara

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