Folk Dancer 27
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July 7, 2004
Ian and I set sail (July 3rd). We putter out of little Gandalf's home. I hope she'll be happy with her new parents. We're at sea, together. For better or worse. It's sunny, and we putter (a putter is literally the sound that she makes... putt, putt, putt). It rains, and we putter. It's a warm, comforting heat, and we putter. We tack and it's cold. We put on coats, and putter. We pass under the Deer Island Bridge, into waters we have never seen together. And once past the red nun, we are officially heading away, and home. Once into the sea, and pointed towards Rockport, it begins to rain harder. But what's a little rain, when we are set afloat on endless water. I never doubted Gandalf, or Ian. He navigates with such precision, steers with a gentle determination, and manages the crew with the insight of a peace fighter. We were heading for Tenants Harbor, but in keeping with the spirit of the sea, we let her tell us when to stop. Rockland. We've phoned into the landing and are looking for moorings 5, 6, 7 or 8. While we look, I plan the dingy ride in, and dream of the dinner we will share on shore. By the time we find the mooring and call home, we agree that we're not leaving Gandalf and we let her rock us to sleep.
Sunday July 4th, 2004
Could I be more blessed?! I awake from my cradle to "Jenny, open up the hatch". I pop my head up on bow. "To the right". And there, in the day break, miles from where we slept is an island, dropped into the middle of the sea, with just a lighthouse and keeper's house, right behind the sunrise. Seals dip and play around us. There is nothing to rush awake for. I grab my cushion, sleeping bag, pillow, book and orange juice to head out on deck. It feels wrong not to be enshrouded by this majesty! In between dozing and reading, I get glimpses of life on the coast. It almost feels wrong to look too long, to learn too much, of the lobsterman, fisherman and salty ole wives who half-grin through the winters to know a solitary slice of Downeast heaven. We are not that devoted. We are just coast cruisers, admirers. Before long we are entering into daysailors paradise, Boothbay Harbor on the 4th! It's like living in the city. Boats of all kinds and colors, some with radios pumping, a 19 footer with an 80 yr old couple, the whole gammet. I wish for it to be closer, but I also never want to round that corner. I want this trip to go on and on. We have the primo mooring, Bourbon St. during MArdi Gras. We can hear the offbeat combo of several bands, studded with drunken hollers and we are docked behind "2 Br Too W/ Vu". After an awesome fireworks show from the dock, we crash behind the mayhem in the berth of our baby. Such a peaceful nights' sleep.
