Turning point

It’s a “dark and stormy night” (gotta laugh when that reminds me of Snoopy in the Peanuts cartoon strip). If i am busy sailing Akimbo thru such a night, i don’t have much chance to contemplate where i am and what i’m doing. But if we (Akimbo & i) are at anchor on such a night, my only chore is to wake up periodically and check to see that the anchor is holding, that we are still in the same place we were the last time i checked. Then it takes some time to fall back asleep. Sometimes i’ll pick whatever book i am reading back up. Usually i lay thinking. About the details – maintenance items, the next anchorage, the people i miss, the next meal, minutiae…

What also comes up in a stormy night in a less than secure anchorage, and has for every adventurer from Odysseus to Shackleton to Dorothy and Toto, is the hope that i haven’t gotten in over my head. The farther i am from “home,” the more i feel like i’ve stuck my neck out, the more fervent that hope becomes. Hoping i don’t find myself saying “oops,” or damn!” or “oh fuck” before some serious mis-adventure. A part of exploring and adventuring is facing unknowns, which leaves open the possibility that we may find one that is more than we “bargained for.” Whereupon? We hang on and do our best to emerge intact from the storm at hand, “the other side,” “thru the flames,”…fill in your own metaphor.

About 430 miles from the equator – i’m tempted to go cross it just so i can be a “shellback” instead of a “pollywog.” This refers to a seafaring rite of passage, dividing sailors into either have or have not crossed the equator, the latter not entitled to as much respect as the former. The Galapagos Islands sit fair and square on the equator, about 750 miles away – permit required tho (what would the old shellbacks say about permits?). If i’m as close to the equator as i am going to get, and it’s close to the equinox, then i’m as close to the sun as i’m gonna get too. And it should be as hot as it’s gonna get. Maybe being here for the rainy season is not so bad afterall. Actually it felt hotter at times sailing between the Mexican deserts. I hope these solar panels are maxing out.

So this is it. This is about as far from home as i’m going to get. Somewhere between my communal and parental homes. About 7 degrees north and 81 degrees west. For 11 months i’ve been making my way south and east. I’ve been sailing away instead of toward, altho isn’t it always some of both? The thing i’ve been sailing toward being unknowns. It’s hard to imagine that in a few months i’ll tie to Bud and Rhoda’s dock. Tomorrow i turn a corner and start aiming northish, content in my pollywogdom. Is there a corner i can turn internally?