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It’s 7:00 Am, I’m setting up my bar, it’s an assembly line of fresh this and that for my Island Famous Bloody Mary’s. I plunge a metal scoop into the ice machine, the cold crunch is nostalgic, a luxury I haven’t known in many years. My mind drifts off to my extensive travels as a child.  Ice machines, the smell of jet fuel, crisp desert mornings in camp.  Back then I couldn’t do anything without making fire.  Bus fumes and dank musty motels, being broken down in our old VW van in the middle of summer and the dessert, nowhere… I was made for travel.

Rich people can’t afford to travel, they go on vacations but on a budget like mine travel is easy.  There is a girl in tears in front of my lodge, she is bawling, her hands buried in her face. She keeps repeating the same words “I just want to go home” while rocking back and forth like a three year old in a full blown temper tantrum.  They flew in by sea plane, but they made lodge reservations for the wrong dates and we are already at full capacity.  We offer the camp grounds, employee lodging, the hostel on San Juan. The more I try and help the angrier they get. I’m appalled by them, embarrassed for them and Intrigued with their 100% inability to adapt to the situation, there is a new breed of humans roaming this planet.  Hours later we find them a place to stay and the light switch is flipped, smiles come out and they skip away with thier ice cream, tears still drying on their cheeks in the hot afternoon sun.

Last week two friends arrived from Oregon by bike, tired, near broke and hungry.  they have a new boat waiting for them.  it isn’t a cleaner upper, it isn’t a fixer upper.  its a cut the deck off, gut the interior and build a boat type of project.  they dig their heels in and start swinging.  Their ice cream is found in the process, an unbreakable mutual love for the sea, for each other and for living every day to its maximum regardless of what the universe throws at them, and she has been merciless.

Walking up the hill for my first peek I call out, you need to slap some red panties on that chubby little bitch, swat her ass and throw her in the water.

A short ride on Brompty brings me to the peninsula.  I carefully lean her against a tree that has washed up on the beach in our most recent storm and sit in the sand at the waters edge.  I’m surrounded, water in front of and behind me. its falling on my head and swirling in the sand around my toes. I’ve finally let go of and happily i may add, my new 26′ Hess. I’ve rearranged Sookies interior for the hundredth time and her new wind-vane is stored here and there in the boat, all out of eyesight until I start the installation process.

I’ve done the unthinkable, the proud new owner of an iPhone. I purchased it for bike touring.  a one size fits all blogging tool with video and imaging but I’ve been sucked down the rabbit hole.  Navionics, internet 24 hours a day, the power of all the knowledge in the world at my fingertips. You cant ask for my phone number cause I dont know it, I hate phones but this little gadget is blowing my mind, it does everything but butter my toast, not that ive had time to eat with all the new learning going on.  I cant help but to wonder if this will ruin sailing for me.  Having weather and full blown charting at my finger tips just may ruin the whole experience. I’m not too worried, it wont be the first phone I’ve hucked off the back of the boat should it piss me off.

A group of sailors stand on the hill drinking whiskey, commenting and complimenting and criticizing this little gem, the words slip out of my mouth, I’d fuck her!

My new iPhone tells me its going to blow 40 today, joy of joys. Whats one more cold, wet and rainy day, we’ve had three good ones so far this year so I’m still hopeful that the sun will come out, that my brain will defrost and Defog and that somewhere is all of this ill have something interesting to write about. In 8 days my gravy train will end. My brain is lost in a cold fog, I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do but there is no shortage of options. I’m not making any plans, it’s pointless, the tides are powerful enough to pull me when the wind won’t and my little kicker has 4 gallons to get me from here to there should Mother Nature turn her back on me. I’ve got food, booze and everything but a plan. Shit, and oars and a pump…

From the log of Sookie Bebe Gilberto is cranking through Pandora on my new iPhone, my glass is full and like my life, my schedule is free…

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