Reasons For Sailing - part 2
Posted: Tue Sep 07, 2010 11:09 am
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More frequently than ever now I wake up in the morning and think – another day, where did yesterday go, where did last week go? I look in the mirror while shaving and desperately try to fix myself in time – this is now, I tell myself. THIS is now.This is NOW. I had the same thought yesterday, or was it last week? So much time gone, so much water under the bridge. Time is speeding up, days and nights pass in a flicker as they did in the machine for HG Wells’ Traveller.
To calm myself my mind seeks out points, beacons in the dark ocean of time past. Always the first ones to break over the horizon of this bleak moment are sailing memories.
~ Village bay more fifteen years ago when this was all new - an arrival dram in the wee small hours as the moon shone through a hole in the unbelieveable dragon silhouette of Dun
~ Hurtling madly through the foggy darkness down the Portuguese coast at night under full sail with the mad submariner at the wheel of Dave’s Moody
~ First charter from Troon as skipper and the excited, exhausted midnight arrival in Campbelltown
~ Screaming down the Solway Firth with the windows of the wee Cobra in the water and Kathy whooping with delight on the helm while I struggle under the chart table to silence the demented shrieking of the wet gas alarm
~ Beating wetly into the big bullying Blue Men of the Minch on that first trip to Stornoway and wanting to turn back but sticking to the plan
~ Seeing dolphins swimming in a wall of water above us on the trip up to Galway Bay
~ Sailing through a glassy swirling Cuan Sound on the apparent wind after the Volvo refused to start
~ The first beer in La Coruna after crossing Biscay – foreign sights, sounds, tastes, bright Spanish sunlight on blue water and the incredible sense of relief and achievement
~ The mad beat into Porto Santo after the storm, water coming over the coamings, wrapped in towels and being fed chocolate, eyes on the GPS, not giving an inch – then the overwhelming relief of the arrival
~ The surreal and spooky experience of finding the Hercules dismasted, abandoned and adrift in mid-ocean
~ Dawn coming up like thunder over the mountains of Gran Canaria after a dark and lumpy night, steel rays glinting off the hissing crests of the wind acceleration zone
~ Percy the passenger pigeon hitching a ride for two days, keeping us company on the careless face of the big ocean
~ Drama and contrasts - the grey, wet escape to sea from Santa Maria then the fog coming down just as we glimpsed the lights of San Miguel
And there are more, hundreds and hundreds more of these bright beacons shining to guide me through the darkness that is past and future for all of us. Right now I don’t even think about this Summer’s Norwegian trip most days, but I know that hundreds of wonderful images and memories are stored to be kindled when needed - memories that will never be overwritten or erased because they are burned deep into the very fabric of what I am.
I may not remember your face or name, or who I promised to phone today or what I said to whom – but these shining highlights will always float to the darkening surface, sailing memories that I will take to the end of time with me.
More frequently than ever now I wake up in the morning and think – another day, where did yesterday go, where did last week go? I look in the mirror while shaving and desperately try to fix myself in time – this is now, I tell myself. THIS is now.This is NOW. I had the same thought yesterday, or was it last week? So much time gone, so much water under the bridge. Time is speeding up, days and nights pass in a flicker as they did in the machine for HG Wells’ Traveller.
To calm myself my mind seeks out points, beacons in the dark ocean of time past. Always the first ones to break over the horizon of this bleak moment are sailing memories.
~ Village bay more fifteen years ago when this was all new - an arrival dram in the wee small hours as the moon shone through a hole in the unbelieveable dragon silhouette of Dun
~ Hurtling madly through the foggy darkness down the Portuguese coast at night under full sail with the mad submariner at the wheel of Dave’s Moody
~ First charter from Troon as skipper and the excited, exhausted midnight arrival in Campbelltown
~ Screaming down the Solway Firth with the windows of the wee Cobra in the water and Kathy whooping with delight on the helm while I struggle under the chart table to silence the demented shrieking of the wet gas alarm
~ Beating wetly into the big bullying Blue Men of the Minch on that first trip to Stornoway and wanting to turn back but sticking to the plan
~ Seeing dolphins swimming in a wall of water above us on the trip up to Galway Bay
~ Sailing through a glassy swirling Cuan Sound on the apparent wind after the Volvo refused to start
~ The first beer in La Coruna after crossing Biscay – foreign sights, sounds, tastes, bright Spanish sunlight on blue water and the incredible sense of relief and achievement
~ The mad beat into Porto Santo after the storm, water coming over the coamings, wrapped in towels and being fed chocolate, eyes on the GPS, not giving an inch – then the overwhelming relief of the arrival
~ The surreal and spooky experience of finding the Hercules dismasted, abandoned and adrift in mid-ocean
~ Dawn coming up like thunder over the mountains of Gran Canaria after a dark and lumpy night, steel rays glinting off the hissing crests of the wind acceleration zone
~ Percy the passenger pigeon hitching a ride for two days, keeping us company on the careless face of the big ocean
~ Drama and contrasts - the grey, wet escape to sea from Santa Maria then the fog coming down just as we glimpsed the lights of San Miguel
And there are more, hundreds and hundreds more of these bright beacons shining to guide me through the darkness that is past and future for all of us. Right now I don’t even think about this Summer’s Norwegian trip most days, but I know that hundreds of wonderful images and memories are stored to be kindled when needed - memories that will never be overwritten or erased because they are burned deep into the very fabric of what I am.
I may not remember your face or name, or who I promised to phone today or what I said to whom – but these shining highlights will always float to the darkening surface, sailing memories that I will take to the end of time with me.
