Dock neighbors drying laundry.

Three months into a marvelous sailing season and Captain Chameleon and I have yet to do any sailing.

Really, you expect us to believe that not leaving the dock is something to write home about?

Roger that.

It’s our third year to back away from a Monday to Monday gravy train and venture out to the Sea of Cortez; where every day is Saturday and two shades of pink lipstick is one more shade than I truly need.  Keeping a sailboat in Mexico is for now, our means to simpleton. Spoken or unspoken, when people learn that Captain Chameleon and I divide up our time into 6 months of sailing and 6 months land dwelling in Phoenix, Arizona, opinions and perceptions abound. Prudent folks think it’s a bit careless to risk one’s career just to experience a few months of wind on cloth propulsion.   The practical ones roll their eyes but stay on task. Thrill seekers are already bored. And the remainder, either heat intolerant or mermaids at heart wonder why we even bother going back to Phoenix.   “Sail Forest, sail,” is their motto. Yes, it’s counter intuitive to believe a fantastic sailing season is possible when the main sail has yet to be unfurled. But my Dear Watson, that’s exactly how this mystery unfolds.

Being sailors we have our share of trying to keep up with the Sailing Jones. Limit sailing to 6 months a year and it doesn’t take much ambition to want to squeeze in as many nautical miles as possible. This year we whittled down our expectations, set aside Keeping Up with the Sailing Jones How to Guide, and the Outlook calendar.   Turning the bucket upside down and giving it a good shake, our “want-to” list of places to travel came out with enough sticky tape to hang on the fridge for another year. No longer keeping a list, the bucket, when turned over, serves as a step stool for seeing hard to reach places…high places where gladness, ease, serenity wait patiently in the shadows. A part of me believes I needed a sailing season like this one, where I encounter the technical “touchy-feely” side of cruising. Even Picasso, the grand-daddy of Cubism and abstract art, first learned how to draw objects in perspective.

Seamore Pacific, like many other affairs in our life, submits to a schedule. But this year, without a bucket list, Seamore Pacific has pointed us to dock neighbors that share similar stories….that some seasons are meant for going places and other seasons are meant for staying put.   Enthralled by their easy response to tedious projects, narrow time lines, and complex obligations north of the border, I‘m becoming a believer that cruising is not solely about sailing or keeping a schedule: it’s about meeting unexpected inconveniences without sarcastic resistance; noticing my breath…and that I hold it when I’m preoccupied; and waiting in the check-out line all day. And why not, I have all day.

But Seamore Pacific, nor her crew, are interested in being at the dock forever.  So with a bit of luck we will stow away what we have gleaned these last several months, and take our bucket and go sailing this week. First, to Bahia San Pedro and then we’ll see after that.

Sea You Later,

Seamore Nautical Spirits

I can do this with one foot tied behind my back.

Common Ground.  Walking the beach and talking. Are they childhood friends?

Maria and the Raven. I’d love to have met her.