It’s looks like there won’t be any.
My brothers are too busy with their cottages and a new grandchild.
I’m at the age where friends are either still employed or desperately looking.
Barbara has to tend her gardens and pets.
My sons have to work for college money.
Someone would have to be crazy to get in a 32 foot sailboat without refrigeration with a restless traveler like me for weeks, anyway.
I’ve had an ad running on the “Points East” crew match site all winter:
http://www.pointseast.com/need_crew.php
It’s turned up three people who seemed eager to go when there was snow on the ground but, as summer approaches, one has to buy a house, one has a busy racing schedule, another has better offers…. It doesn’t help that I can’t make a firm departure commitment yet.
Fortunately, I enjoy being on the boat alone and, much of the time, singlehanding is easier than explaining what needs to be done. After a long winter and all sorts of things going on with family and friends, I’m starting to have rather pleasant thoughts about finally sitting back in the cabin and just hearing the faint “tink” of the cabin heater flue expanding and the ticking of the clock. The cry of a distant loon seems like the pleasantest possible conversational comment after months of discussing the world’s woes.
Still, I enjoy having people on the boat to share the experience as long as they know the value of contemplation and don’t feel that any moment unfilled by the sound of human voice is wasted. Sailing through the wonders downeast with only myself to appreciate them seems somehow decadent and selfish. Those long legs across the Bay of Fundy and around the corner to the southern Nova Scotia coast would be a lot easier with another watch stander. Dining ashore is a big part of cruising for a coastal sailor like myself and an especially nice time to have a companion.
Anyway, I find myself almost completely balanced in desire between crew and singlehanding. The primary mental feature of this whole enterprise is becoming a Zen like letting go of any specific schedule or image of how it has to turn out. After decades of goals and schedules, I’m already in that zone and the boat isn’t even in the water.
So, if someone turns up, they’ll get to see the whole coast of Maine as few have ever had a chance to see it. And then, all of Passamaquoddy Bay, Grand Manan Island, and Nova Scotia lie ahead. If I leave alone, there are still plenty of people to visit and meet along the way. I’ll be perfectly content in my little planet with its long shelf of books and the anticipation of another day of sailing and exploring always ahead of me.
My brothers are too busy with their cottages and a new grandchild.
I’m at the age where friends are either still employed or desperately looking.
Barbara has to tend her gardens and pets.
My sons have to work for college money.
Someone would have to be crazy to get in a 32 foot sailboat without refrigeration with a restless traveler like me for weeks, anyway.
I’ve had an ad running on the “Points East” crew match site all winter:
http://www.pointseast.com/need_crew.php
It’s turned up three people who seemed eager to go when there was snow on the ground but, as summer approaches, one has to buy a house, one has a busy racing schedule, another has better offers…. It doesn’t help that I can’t make a firm departure commitment yet.
Fortunately, I enjoy being on the boat alone and, much of the time, singlehanding is easier than explaining what needs to be done. After a long winter and all sorts of things going on with family and friends, I’m starting to have rather pleasant thoughts about finally sitting back in the cabin and just hearing the faint “tink” of the cabin heater flue expanding and the ticking of the clock. The cry of a distant loon seems like the pleasantest possible conversational comment after months of discussing the world’s woes.
Still, I enjoy having people on the boat to share the experience as long as they know the value of contemplation and don’t feel that any moment unfilled by the sound of human voice is wasted. Sailing through the wonders downeast with only myself to appreciate them seems somehow decadent and selfish. Those long legs across the Bay of Fundy and around the corner to the southern Nova Scotia coast would be a lot easier with another watch stander. Dining ashore is a big part of cruising for a coastal sailor like myself and an especially nice time to have a companion.
Anyway, I find myself almost completely balanced in desire between crew and singlehanding. The primary mental feature of this whole enterprise is becoming a Zen like letting go of any specific schedule or image of how it has to turn out. After decades of goals and schedules, I’m already in that zone and the boat isn’t even in the water.
So, if someone turns up, they’ll get to see the whole coast of Maine as few have ever had a chance to see it. And then, all of Passamaquoddy Bay, Grand Manan Island, and Nova Scotia lie ahead. If I leave alone, there are still plenty of people to visit and meet along the way. I’ll be perfectly content in my little planet with its long shelf of books and the anticipation of another day of sailing and exploring always ahead of me.
