It’s been a quiet week here in Hampton, my temporary home port. There was lots of wind for a while but good ground tackle made that insignificant. I took a road trip to the Outer Banks and then explored Fort Monroe. Yesterday, I went to the Mariners Museum where I thoroughly went over the extensive and excellent exhibits on the Monitor. Being a naval architect made looking into the mind of the designer of one of the most revolutionary and innovative craft ever launched especially interesting.
As with my earlier long sojourn in Beaufort, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands and done too much thinking about my life and future. I’m going to have one of those talks this morning that you think you never would. It’s very tentative but I emailed a friend to see if he would be interested in purchasing Strider.
I’m known here, and up and down the coast, as a singlehander but it isn’t by choice. It is the result of decisions I and others made years ago. I tolerate the solitude better than most and the Internet and the wonderful people I meet along the way help. However, my time in DC, with people that talk about things other than boats and cruising, added fuel to the feelings that were building in Beaufort.
DC didn’t pan out for a number of reasons, expense, job situation, the marina, etc. However, I feel that I am reaching the limits of this lifestyle. I do love the life and, if not for two things, would probably keep on for years. The first is money. I can’t afford to cruise beyond the east coast of the U.S. and Canada. The chances of significantly changing that at my age are slim.
The second is crew. I enjoy having friends aboard for short periods but I just can’t see myself continuing this without a permanent crew. It’s pretty clear that no woman old enough for me to take seriously, or to take me seriously, is going to spend months at a time aboard a 32 foot sailboat. It’s the perfect size for what I’ve been doing but two small for a couple there is any realistic probability of this ship’s company becoming.
I’ve given a lot of my life to the sea. I’ve gotten much from it but it’s also taken. I started this wandering odyssey in search of change and variety. Now that I know the low country and Nova Scotia almost as well as Maine, I’m increasingly thinking of change and variety as mountains, rivers, and the kind of places I’ve seen too little of. I haven’t come up with a plan for how I might do that but I’m thinking about it.
If I were to meet someone with a modest income and freedom similar to mine, I would gladly keep doing this. Two people could make the passages and afford to go on to interesting places like Newfoundland and the Caribbean. However, as I’ve gotten to know the cruising scene better, it’s apparent that there are hundreds of single guys with larger and more comfortable boats looking for the same thing (and, they’re all on Match.com, I hear). I’m just not going to fade into one of those lonely old guys I see up and down the ICW. The solitude is wearing me down.
I’m committed to being in this area, or possibly Connecticut, until we find out how this research vessel project plays out so I’m not going to make any decisions for a while. Living on the boat is essential to my participation in that project as my role won’t be large enough to justify moving ashore. However, I am starting to think a lot about the traditional story of putting your oars over your shoulder and walking inland until someone says, “Hey, what are those sticks you’re carrying?”.
As with my earlier long sojourn in Beaufort, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands and done too much thinking about my life and future. I’m going to have one of those talks this morning that you think you never would. It’s very tentative but I emailed a friend to see if he would be interested in purchasing Strider.
I’m known here, and up and down the coast, as a singlehander but it isn’t by choice. It is the result of decisions I and others made years ago. I tolerate the solitude better than most and the Internet and the wonderful people I meet along the way help. However, my time in DC, with people that talk about things other than boats and cruising, added fuel to the feelings that were building in Beaufort.
DC didn’t pan out for a number of reasons, expense, job situation, the marina, etc. However, I feel that I am reaching the limits of this lifestyle. I do love the life and, if not for two things, would probably keep on for years. The first is money. I can’t afford to cruise beyond the east coast of the U.S. and Canada. The chances of significantly changing that at my age are slim.
The second is crew. I enjoy having friends aboard for short periods but I just can’t see myself continuing this without a permanent crew. It’s pretty clear that no woman old enough for me to take seriously, or to take me seriously, is going to spend months at a time aboard a 32 foot sailboat. It’s the perfect size for what I’ve been doing but two small for a couple there is any realistic probability of this ship’s company becoming.
I’ve given a lot of my life to the sea. I’ve gotten much from it but it’s also taken. I started this wandering odyssey in search of change and variety. Now that I know the low country and Nova Scotia almost as well as Maine, I’m increasingly thinking of change and variety as mountains, rivers, and the kind of places I’ve seen too little of. I haven’t come up with a plan for how I might do that but I’m thinking about it.
If I were to meet someone with a modest income and freedom similar to mine, I would gladly keep doing this. Two people could make the passages and afford to go on to interesting places like Newfoundland and the Caribbean. However, as I’ve gotten to know the cruising scene better, it’s apparent that there are hundreds of single guys with larger and more comfortable boats looking for the same thing (and, they’re all on Match.com, I hear). I’m just not going to fade into one of those lonely old guys I see up and down the ICW. The solitude is wearing me down.
I’m committed to being in this area, or possibly Connecticut, until we find out how this research vessel project plays out so I’m not going to make any decisions for a while. Living on the boat is essential to my participation in that project as my role won’t be large enough to justify moving ashore. However, I am starting to think a lot about the traditional story of putting your oars over your shoulder and walking inland until someone says, “Hey, what are those sticks you’re carrying?”.
), but to make a 6 to 9month story short, she's now in Paris with a terrific divorced dad (they're both in their 50's), and I suspect this is likely a very long term thing. 
