I haven’t thought about that song in a long time. It seems a song of regret or resignation for what should be an event of joy.
We’re heading back to Homer. This trip is coming to an end. Jennifer tells me she never wants to do things like this again. She doesn’t want to be afraid anymore.
She wants to get back to PT, plant her orchard and garden and watch things grow. Simon’s song comes to mind.
Next year we’ll spend a few months bringing Caro Babbo back to the pnw, see if we can get a slip at Lee’s Landing and live a quiet retired life.
I find the concept of this difficult in the extreme.
How you gonna keep down on the farm once they’ve seen paree? To quote another song from a different era.
But even I’m not that far off from Jennifer. I surprised Jennifer when I said I wouldn’t mind coming back to Geographic Harbor and staying for a month. Just being here and living in this place.
It’s a difficult thing to sort out. Being alive and pushing whatever boundaries we each feel.
Next year, Jennifer will be the age I was when we made our first trip up the inside passage. It was such an adventure.
_____
Hans and Sylvia showed up yesterday afternoon. They sat out the weather in Hidden Harbor. We’ll learn today how it was.
Yesterday, while out and about, we visited a charter boat. A strange charter boat and a strange interaction. Well, there was nothing too off about it, but… I don’t know.
The vessel is a big old work boat. A hundred feet or so, with a deck full of heavy machinery and a portable building.
A 25-foot aluminum landing craft-style skiff was on the starboard hip.
Jennifer and I saw her after we went through a tight passage between a small island and the shore directly west of where we were anchored.
As we approached, two people climbed down from the ship into the skiff: a man and a woman. He was close to my age, she was in her thirties.
They were wearing various cloth and stick-on badges that play to all the fashionable concerns tourists to this part of the world feel they should feel: She had WWF sticker with a panda on it; He wore a jacket with the charter company’s logo.
Behind them on the semi-covered deck a group of men were conversing, some in foul weather gear, others awkwardly getting into it.
The man and the woman stood at the rail of the skiff waiting for us to come alongside. Jennifer asked if she could grab hold of the skiff. They said yes.
They didn’t say anything beyond that. Usually, sailors greet each other with a good day or what vessel are you from, they were quiet.
Jennifer asked who are you? The common response is to tell us about their vessel. Instead, the woman responded with their first names. John and, I think Teresa, Jennifer remembers Laura.
Jennifer asked if they were from the world wildlife fund*, the woman answered, ”I am, he’s not. ”
I asked whether he owned the boat or was the skipper. John responded he worked for the owners of the boat. He said ‘owners of the boat,’ not ‘owners. ‘
We asked whether they were a charter and how many people were onboard: seven guests and four crew. The guests had just flown in on a float plane we’d seen come in. It was an exchange of guests.
The two stayed very close to the rail of the skiff and never turned towards the guests. Very much a barrier between us and the guests. An odd interaction.
The woman asked if we were from the small little sailboat. We said we were.
John started to say something and they had an easy demeanor when they joked about who was the boss.
We spoke with John about bringing the boat down from Homer. I then remembered seeing her in the harbor on the east side.
It had been a very difficult journey dodging bad weather. Making short day hops during intervals between weather systems.
John came across as the real deal and his experience confirmed what we had been seeing. He said something that we know, but which is good to hear. We asked what the weather was actually doing out in the strait. He said he didn’t know. He was away from the strait; he only knew what it was forecasted to do. It was nice to hear it from someone else.
Jennifer and I agreed it was time to go, we’d been there for too many minutes and their guests were all suited up.
When John and the woman climbed out of the skiff, a man in his thirties wearing an ”I love dirt” cap from a landscaping company took their place. He was very eager to speak with us.
He asked about the dinghy. We answered his questions, but we were holding up the guests so we left.
Usually, additional crew will come speak with us at the same time we speak with anyone on a vessel.
After we were a distance away, the skiff came by with the young man driving from the helm station at the stern. The woman was seated in the row immediately in front of him. The remaining seats were filled by the seven guests.
As he passed near us, he slowed and looked behind himself at his wake.
He gets our eternal thanks for that.
I don’t know, it felt a bit like something out of a Bond film. Everything was normal, but our interactions had an odd affect.
_____
Today, we’ll join Hans and Sylvia on their four-person RIB and look at bears and explore. Jennifer and I would also like to visit the sailboat that came in last night. They anchored in the next cove over, quickly and with great confidence from what we could see on AIS.
We’ll learn the name of their boat, which shows as Catharpin Blue.**
Hans and Sylvia have invited us over for dinner. This sometimes affects Jennifer, the boat is so big and ours seems so small after a visit. I don’t want her to become afraid again.
_____
I don’t know what will happen in future years. I’ve never been able to see my future and we have a plan for 2023. 2024 is too far away for me to ever plan, so there is no reason to fret about it now.
A summer in Port Townsend might be a nice thing… And then sailing again?
😉
_____
*Worldwide wrestling federation came to mind, but then I remembered McMahon lost that trademark battle more than twenty years ago.
**Turns out it is pronounced Cat-harpin Blue. A catharpin is a knot used on square-rigged vessels.
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Thanks for sharing such personal thoughts – your words really do capture the weariness and uncertainty you say you’re both feeling. It would be good to see you around PT during the summer, but I do understand how much of a sense of loss it must be to contemplate not coming back to this life next summer, maybe ever. But while it’s good to capture those feelings so you can revisit them, I’m guessing you don’t have to make any irrevocable decisions *quite* yet, right? Good to reserve those for when you have time to contemplate them with some perspective.
BTW: WWF always makes me think of this image: https://in.pinterest.com/pin/521573200572556758/
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