I know it has been way to long, but the real reason that I have seemingly left the face of the earth is because of the women in my life. Yes I did say women. To be exact there are actually four of the them, and just above is the biggest drama queen of them all. Sorry Jess. At 65 feet, she has devoured all of my time, thought and action, in a manor that is most befitting of her, she demanded it.
Even in the face of a hurricane, she still waddled out of the water, and as here full weight came to her, she sat down on her self and crushed both hulls. She only has to realize how truly massive she is every two years, and she was very clearly demonstrating that she was no more fond of it then I was. Not long after that we stepped her mast, and I found out that unbeknownst to me, that I could hold my breath for just over the two hours that it took to safely lay the 100 feet of aluminum and all included rigging on the ground at her feet.
Most of you know that my boating life started at 21, from a more then clean slate, and at 24 already a Captain and "Chief Engineer" (it still sounds silly), my seemingly upward moving career somewhere took a hard left and found me and my boat planted firmly on dry ground. It has been an interesting acclimation for me, and I think for Judi as well, (the owner of Ocean Sports.) She comes down every day just to check in, point me in the right direction, and to the right people. The thing that I find most interesting, is that every time I get dressed down by one of the mainstays in the yard, which inevitably happens two to three times daily, I always feel her floating that direction, listening intensely as if making sure that her dreams and visions have been placed in the right hands. I still don't know the answer to that question, and I don't think she does either.
I find myself in a land of men who have been doing their work twice as long as I have been alive, directing mostly older crew members, and leading around, welders, machinist, master glassers, fabricators, mechanics, harbor masters, electricians, painters, company owners, and all life long sailors explaining the ins and outs of my boat and exactly what I need and how we can figure out the best way to accomplish everything in a drastically short amount of time. Although overwhelming, I have figure out a trick, as soon as the boat is hauled out of its more welcomed surrounds, I stop shaving. By about the Fourth day I have just enough to call a beard, and it seems that I fit in a little better. Believe it or not it seems that a few of the real salt have taken a liking to me, although they would never admit and I would never point out, I think that they think of me as the next generation, a protege of sorts. Just as Judi I feel that they even without knowing are looking for the right people to carry on traditions and things held dear that reach back as far as time. Traditions that were built on the foundation of a need to find a place to belong. For some of us I guess that place must be the sea, or drydock, in our own turn.