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I’ve just scuttled through the hatch, a fierce storm is a brewing.  My hands burn from pulling hard on the spiders web of lines I’ve set to keep Sookie fenders from exploding against the dock, another Nor’easter is a brewing. I’ve become a soft boiled egg, my body resembles a sea monkey.  Long, weak, extremities extend from my avocado core, winter is winning the battle but the war isn’t over. I soak my frail unused hands in warm water to cool the burn, I’ve become useless, soft, weak. In my current state Mr Potatoe head could kick my ass.

Cold Arctic air is blasting through the tiny cracks in the companion way floppy doors but it’s going to get much colder.  The wind is nuking making life on the boat less than desirable, the gusts have been topping 40 for the last few hours but the worst will be tonight when temps plummet and the wind peaks.  I’ve reached my limit and gone beyond.

Brompty sits faithful waiting for our next journey, I hope it’s soon.  Where in the world is it warm and how do I get there. The shivers have already started, my mood wanting to ride but not in this wind and cold. Florida, that’s where I should be, tonight when I have internet I’ll shop last minute flights to Maimi, it’s only a short ride on Brompty from there.  One more week of this and I’ll stop threatening myself and really sell the boat once and for all and find summer.  A friend just listed his Falmouth cutter cheap, part of me envies him.

My fun project today is to pack my Brompty bags with what I would choose if I was going to ride away from everything and live a minimalist life on bike tour for a few years.  I’m so curious to see what makes the cut and what doesn’t.

From the log of Sookie, I’m drawing a blank…

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