johnjuliano – Page 2

One, Two, Three Strokes, you’re out at the ol’ ball game.

Port Townsend, WA, 8-May-2023 – Today feels like it is the end of the day that happened. But it’s not. That day was six days ago.

I remember sleeping much closer to Jennifer than I normally did, she was comfortable and quite warm. She had her hand on me, across my shoulders, then it felt a little uncomfortable. I also felt I needed to go to the bathroom.

Jennifer’d been gone for days, and I had been gone for weeks prior to that, so we hadn’t seen each other much in the last two months. It was nice to have her near, and very comforting that she should put her arm around me when she was sleeping. I scooted over leftward to the edge of the bed. She must’ve been closer than I thought because I could still feel her hand on me.

Fame: ‘‘Dennis and Me saw this boat on the back page of Wooden Boat Magazine…’’

After a few minutes of repeated mentions of Dennis, I asked, ‘‘Who is Dennis?’’

‘‘Dennis Conner, everyone loves Dennis.’’

I responded, ‘‘I lived in San Diego when he lost it.’’

He parried, ‘‘Won four, lost two.’’

Port Townsend, WA 14-MAR-2023 – What was unsaid, of course, was that Dennis Conner was the first American to lose the America’s Cup. It was said that the head of the first skipper to lose the Americ’s Cup Trophy would take its place at the New York Yacht Club.

A quick post, as in ‘‘Where the hell have you guys been?’’

We’re traveling by car in Baja California Sur, Mexico. I travel alone and get stuck in sand while Jennifer travels on Steve and Liz’s Amel, Aloha

Loreto, BCS, Mexico, 20-FEB-2023 – Okay, let me answer a few questions and defer any answer about why I haven’t been posting as I said I would. Well, I’ll address that here: We’ve been having a good and exciting time.

To catch everyone up:

Waiting for (car) parts in Todos Santos Mexico.

Todos Santos, BCS, Mexico, 5-Feb-2023 – The long and the short of it is that Celica is parked in a dirt parking lot across from a group of restaurants outside of the town proper in Todo Santos Mexico.

Jennifer and I are on a trip from Port Townsend to Todos Santos to visit our friends Dennis and Lisa, stopping along the way to see friends, both boating and non-boating.

And my mind is preoccupied with repairing the Celica. A busted car on the side of the road where I don’t have the means to repair it bothers me. It eats at me. Lately, I let other people work on our cars with mixed results. Even the best return the car with things not quite right to be discovered by us a thousand miles away. No, this breakdown is unrelated to any work we had done, but the brake pads we had installed before we left are not seating correctly. It has little impact, but it is that worm in the back of one’s head.

The drive down was a contrast of the beauty of the country we drove through, the people we met, both new to us and old friends, and the disparities of the developing world where so little works and so much is abandoned – in the rural areas. Vibrant cities, supposedly cartel-controlled cities, like La Paz blot that all out. Anglo communities like Todos Santos, where real estate prices exceed Seattle, blot that all out. But it is there. We’re in a developing nation here in Mexico.

Safety of Life at Sea – SOLAS – Death of a friend

Port Townsend, WA, 23-DEC-2022 – A phrase from years ago, which was repeated to me with annoying frequency, was that sailing was safer than driving a car. I’d never really given it any thought.

Back home, in Mount Sinai Harbor, every year or two a drunk would fall into the water at the Mount Sinai Yacht Club and drown. But as Jennifer and my sailing years progressed, we came into direct and indirect contact with people who died on the water.

Babbo

Today is the three-year anniversary of my Dad’s passing. I initially wrote this in the days following his death intending to publish on the anniversary of his passing. Life, as it does, got in the way. I wrote and edited portions in April 2021 at the Rocky Point house, the house I grew up in, preparing it for rent, reviewing the artifacts of a long life, and in quiet moments… just sitting and thinking. Time does not rest and months and now years have passed. I have left the dateline to match the day I started writing this.

Rocky Point, NY, 31-DEC-2019 – The first time I realized my father wasn’t perfect the world tipped on its axis. I can’t remember when it was, exactly, but I was an adult. A young adult, but an adult. I remember what I understood at that point in my life, my world view and my sexual experience, all of which frame a time.

My father died this past Sunday morning at Stony Brook Medical, as they are calling the university hospital these days. His heart stopped. It was related to blood thinners, with the nursing staff saying he must have clotted from too little thinner, and the on-duty MD saying it was internal bleeding from too much. Does it matter? He’s dead.

Caro Babbo gets a living room

Caro Babbo gets a cockpit enclosure made from fiberglass tent poles that weighs 6 lbs and fits in a small bag for stowage.

Port Townsend, WA, 15-DEC-2022 – There is function and there is social pressure. Sailing is rife with both. Nonconforming will bring interest from some and the need to point out one’s nonconformity from others.

Salling is also full of individuals who don’t do things the way everyone else does. Like anything from sailing to beekeeping, there are many successful ways to do almost anything, and ways that are better in general and ways that are better in specific circumstances.

Dodgers, biminis, and cockpit enclosures fit, like anything else on a sailboat, into this dynamic.

Caro Babbo sleeps, John has nightmares

Port Townsend, WA – 14-NOV-2022 – Traveling from Homer to Port Townsend was uneventful. We’ve been flying more and more the last few years, nothing like we did before I left the workforce, but we’re probably doing over 30,000 miles a year, each.

While Homer is seeing more and more private jets as the very affluent find the next place to colonize, for Jennifer and me traveling between Homer and the lower 48 involves multi-hour layovers in Anchorage. This time we got pretty lucky. Our flight left Homer at 10:15 PM arriving in Anchorage at 11 PM with a 1 AM connection to Seattle.

Ravn Air, Dash-8, is ubiquitous these days. We fly between Anchorage and Homer on these.

We took mass transit from SeaTac to Bainbridge Island and were in Port Townsend mid-day, Labor Day Monday.

Caro Babbo now has an inverted ‘‘V’’ on her skeg, which was not there when she went in the water.

When Caro Babbo came out of the water the aft lifting strap slipped further aft. Aaron, the man running the hoist, saw this and seemed to think it was okay. He has much more experience with this than I do, and I deferred to him. This may have been a mistake, as Caro Babbo now has two lines in an inverted ‘‘V’’ on her skeg, which, when we compare photographs, we see that they were not there when she went in the water.

Waiting for Haul out in Homer

Homer Harbor, Homer, AK, 29-AUG-2022 – It happens whenever I live on a boat in a harbor for a while. The water loses the appearance of water and becomes solid like earth or a roadway. It has happened again here in Homer. We’re rafted up next to a Crealock 37 named Trinity. We look forward down a fairway towards the mouth where larger vessels tie up and raft together.

Day is Done, Gone the Sun…

Homer, AK, 22-AUG-2022 – I hear the words to Taps in my head this morning. Our trip is over. We’re in Homer about ten days early. The weather in South Central Alaska has been such that staying a distance away risked not getting here by the first of September when Caro Babbo will be hauled out.

It looks like the Pacific High (pressure system) did not form this year – from what we see now that we can download large weather maps. Massive lows are coming in from Japan and up the Canadian Coast.

We’re rafted up with a 40-something-foot Hunter sloop. The Harbor Master says we’ll be fine as no one ever visits that vessel. We’d rather be in a slip than exposed to the traffic in the harbor. We also have to cross the Hunter any time we want to get to the dock. On the other hand, this is about as private as we will get – no one on the dock can see into our boat. I’m not sure they can even see our hull.