When I found out last August that I would be laid off for a period of 3 weeks during shipyard, I must admit I was a bit disappointed. Where was the romanticism in living on the sea for 6 months if it was actually 5 months and 1 week? 5 months and 1 week does not roll off the tongue nearly as well as 6 months.
In retrospect, this argument could only be one of a naïve, sea-faring postulant. Now that I’m basking on my sunny back porch with Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty on my left, freshly brewed Italian coffee steaming on my right, and kitties surrounding me in a prayer circle as if I’m their cult leader, I could not wish to be anywhere else.
These 3 weeks of rejuvenation off the Sea Bird have done a world of wonders. From changing my outfit for the first time in 3 months to sleeping under a Christmas-light canopy in my plush bed cloaked in flamingo sheets and a nostalgic, mom-made quilt, my day has been replete with small wonders. Other wonders have included the baby-grand piano which is practically invisible under sheet music mountains, the bookshelves enveloping my bed with color-coded books, my tray of perfumes and jewelry, and the furry faces which have been so demanding of my attention. Being home never fails to conjure relaxing afternoons and delicious home-cooked meals in cozy environs.
Color-coded to perfection
Yet there are parts of the job that I won’t mind returning to. Sailing into the horizon away from most of civilization will always be a liberating feeling. The blues, purples, yellows, pinks, crimsons, and oranges of the 180° sky. The realization that thousands of fish, mammals, and other creatures are going about their daily lives right below you. The jolting chill of a polar plunge and the afternoons when you hike up the tallest hill to get a bird’s eye view of your floating home.
This job has also helped me appreciate water in new ways. Just this morning, I went on a walk in the country and was disheartened to see beer can after coffee cup after plastic bag discarded in the stream running behind my house. I’m lucky to have traveled the wild, pristine waters of SE Alaska where you can sail days without seeing human impact on the environment. Maybe it is this break from society that has made me more keen to see how people knowingly and habitually wreak havoc on their surroundings. Those who feign ignorance or apathy are boiling my blood a tad more than ever these days.
If only you could force people to appreciate the beauty of humpback whales bubble-net feeding, a trusting harbor seal fascinated by your camera’s shutter, the dancing Northern Lights, or simply the melting snow trickling down a babbling brook.