3/31 Monday: So WTF Have I Been Doing Since I Got Here?

Well. Stuff. you know. The things one does when faced with a minor challenge, which must be met by appropriate action. Figure out what needs to be done (1). Figure out how to do it (2). Do it (3).

Seems like every day starts with a list of things to do before we can depart these idyllic shores; we do as many of them as we can, and by the end of the day we have, somehow, a slightly longer list than we started with.

It's just amazing the number of things there are on a boat to think about, and plan for. I wonder if the Vikings had similar lists. I know Thor Heyerdahl did--but maybe he doesn't count.

As of now we are looking at something like end of the week (sometime around April 4-6) for departure from Oahu back to SF (Sausalito). Peter's son Luke is arriving (we hope) on Sunday, and then it's just a matter (did I just say "just"? Ack! I taught my guys at Valley Wagonworks NEVER to use that word in the context of what it is that needs to be done. It seems, based on loads of anectdotal evidence, that each time this word ("just") is invoked, the whole damn project finds ways of ensuring that "just"-ice is not served.)

Nevertheless, we push on. And we don't have to cut down balsa trees and move them to the sea unspeakable distances through the rain forest. We deal with electronics, hull maintenance, engine and transmission oil and coolant changes, accumulating tools, spare parts, groceries. Personal flotation devices, EPIRBS, radio and satellite communications (so we can let you all know what is happening while at sea), etc.

And everybody has to get up to speed using all of it, since everything has to some extent or another changed since last time we did this.

And then there's getting to know the boat, and rigging, and sail-handling... A lot of it is very familiar, but another lot of it is boat-specific ( I have never sailed a ketch, for example, and all of them are just a little different).

3/23 Sunday: Rusty Traveller

Rusty Traveller

So. Having more-or-less sorted out arrangements for the care-taking of my flat, especially of Poppy the cat, as I head for Hawaii for five or six weeks to help an old customer of ours at Valley Wagonworks bring his boat (a Shannon 38 ketch-rigged sailboat named) home again on the last leg of its voyage from New Zealand, via Tahiti and Hawaii, I am rudely awakened to how much of my travel-savvy has gone out to lunch (with no mention of when it will be back, regardless of the fact that customers are waiting). I am thus made aware of my inadequacy by the fact that 1. I managed to leave my credit card behind at the bar of Pier 15 in the Canal district of San Rafael, having stopped in for a bite and a double gin-tonic on the way to the airport, and 2. That my wallet disappeared somehow on the way to the airport aboard the Marin Airporter.

I discovered the loss of both approaching check-in at the airport, while reaching for the wallet that wasn't there. As luck would have it, the thought earlier occurred to me that since we are going to be sailing from Hawaii back to San Francisco via what might be a circuitous route, that we would actually be literally traveling overseas, and as such, given the tendency for things not necessarily to go the way we want them to, that it might be a good idea to bring along a passport, in case some other nation got inadvertently involved. So, I was able to check in, and in due course, found myself seated in the plane for Honolulu. Next to Liz. More about that in a bit. For some reason, I was not terribly concerned about either my missing credit card, or wallet. Might have had something to do with the double gin and tonic, but in fact I am so happy to be traveling, so happy to be flying again, and I figure there's nothing I can do about any of it, that I just settle in and focus on enjoying the ride.

So, Liz:

Mahalo, says Hawaii to me, in the very sweet form of Liz, sitting next to me on the flight, a 23 year old, pretty, petite young Hawaiian resident--originally from Utah but looks like she belongs to the islands, with her silky, waist-length black hair in a braid, big brown eyes and an easy, winning smile under high cheekbones--on her way back from a European trip she was leading with a large bunch of Asian-looking Hawaiian high-school students. They had come today from Rome, via Amsterdam. She has a lovely, easy, honest presence. We talk about all kindsa stuff. But she is beat from the day's work. Herding a bunch of kids from hotel through multiple airports and now on the last leg of the trip wants more than anything just to be able to sleep. I am aware of every little nuance of her body's movement. Her arms, legs and head are all over the place, looking for comfort. She stops moving for a minute, sort of surrendered with head leaning forward, and without any thought my hands reach out and start working on her neck and shoulders. She sighs and relaxes into it. Goes on for five minutes or so. So nice.

So for the course of the ride, we chat, kinda lean against each other in the way that strangers don't usually do in close proximity on any form of public transport (at least not consensually, or so I assume). Seeking good sleeping postures, her left leg gets draped over my right. And I don't move a single muscle for one and a half solid hours while watching The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. She wakes up a couple times during the film (she picked that one to watch too), and rewinds it so she can see the parts she missed. But never needed to disentangle herself from me.

And at the end of the trip she was busy with her flock of high-schoolers. We met again at baggage claim, when Peter was there to pick me up. I assumed she would focus on getting her kids out of there, and imagined she might not acknowledge me at all-but I was mistaken. Just before she got them all rounded up and headed in the same direction, she came over to say "bye". And gave me a big hug, and when I said it was really nice travelling with her, she said the same and I wished her luck with her life and all her endeavors, and she did the same and then she was gone.

Mahalo, Oahu!