The Pacific Northwest is literally killing Sookie. It was bound to happen and today I finally woke up, dug my heels in and started my spring outfitting. I’m shocked by the destruction from the jet fuel, two dozen more gel coat cracks have appeared and my wood is looking like miserable hell. It’s almost like starting the race over but from ten miles behind the starting line. I’ve been doing this far too long to be bummed about the whole of it. Its far easier to dig into my winter stash, pull a stack of C-notes and dive in. Today the local pirates, um chandlery gave me 5 gold stars and greedily took my winter in the tropics away.
The only thing I can get on the radio is sports, I fucking hate sports. I can’t imagine how so many people waste so much of thier time watching and listening to sports, I’d rather shave my ass with a dull cheese grater. I walk to the shower, the stream of hot water washes the salty brine from my tired body, it all ends too soon. I return from what was a clean and shining boat. In less than twenty minutes it’s covered with bird shit, it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned all winter. I’ve been dealing with this daily. This was the most brutal and isolating winter of my life, spring sailing was the only thing that got me through, now it looks like I’ll be working for an eternity to make this right. Another summer of my life I’ll never get back, another year of…
Winters are atrocious here, my cabin sole is buckling from the constant wet. The ceiling boards lining the hull in my V berth have completely buckled. Black mold grows faster than I can keep up with, I wake up every day coughing up a lung, wet dank, dark and crewel, that’s how I’d describe winters aboard around here. Add another 5k in costs to the list. Whatever, it is what it is. I spent the day scrubbing and flushing my bilges from stem to stern. I was hoping my anchor line would last another year but a very close inspection says add new line to the list, the top of the list. I have 42 days till I get kicked out of here and far too many decisions to make. My bosprite needs to be pulled inspected and painted before I leave the dock. This is better done in the yard but I don’t have time if I want to ride south in September. By that time of year every day counts with winter riding me like a monkey on my back.
With one email I sell all the supplies I’ve been gathering for my tiny home, if I actually get paid I’ll make a few hundred bucks in profit. The tiny home is scratched for now, the plane is scratched for now, Sookie is always my priority. If it sounds like I’ve been necgleting Sookie I haven’t she is always the most loved and maintained yacht wherever she goes. Old boats and bad climates is what is, it never stops. The northern climates literally eat your boat alive, the winters swallow your soul whole.
I’ve got the best fiberglass guy in the world in Bellingham but need to have the boat in Port Townsend for the winter to take care of all the wood and rigging projects. I’m an hours work away from completing the boom fix and can sail anywhere but work might be more easily found here and there is no chance of moorage in either Bellingham or Port Townsend which would mean pulling Sookie and no sailing.
I had asked a young sailing couple to sail south with me in August, now I’m thinking I’m better off staying here where I know everybody, have all the tools I could possibly need at my beck and call and a network of knowledgeable sailors to share my scotch and join me in my thinking chair for the have to do, should do and would like to do lists. I’m exhausted, the sun has set and tonight my biggest choice is do I pull a glass of wine from my secret stash or the box.
From the log of Sookie, one step foreward two steps back. As much as all of this sucks it beats the shit out of sitting in my cubicle, surfing YouTube and counting the days of my twenty year plan. Today I erased my entire future and put all my eggs in one basket, maybe I should have done this Twenty years ago.