disappointment

Lake Worth, FL . morning

Last night I was tired, proud, and relieved. This morning I'm just disappointed...and lonely...for our boating buddy and for the boats that aren't here this morning.

The anchorage around us looks barren. Actually, only two boats left for the Bahamas in the early morning - one captain we had a conversation with and who thought this weather window was too narrow, the other we just talked with briefly in his dinghy last night when we returned from our first attempt at crossing. And Fordayce is gone. So it's not as if life-long friends have abandoned us. Still, I'm disappointed and lonely. We've worked so arduously to make this happen and have been thwarted by the gulf stream. Temporarily.

And now a beautiful green sailing vessel is moving into the neighborhood so maybe not so lonely soon.  I know that after a bit I'll go meditate. I'll start daily tasks. I'll get involved in delayed maintenance or home improvement projects. I'll go visit the manatee research center that we didn't have time for yesterday. I'll read. I might even make something or cook the chicken that it was too rough "outside" to cook last night. Disappointment will fade.

********* evening

Actually the day did not improve. David wanted, reasonably, to dig into the engine and diagnose the engine overheating problem so that if repair, or even diagnosis, was above his pay grade we'd have tomorrow to search for a mechanic. So the engine compartment, i.e. the pilot house floor, was open with tools and engine compartment parts spilling into the major living spaces of the boat...all day long.

For a small while, I escaped to the aft cabin, put the new screens on two port lights, and read a new to me, old book that I'd exchanged at a marina book swap. Then, my creative project for the day, I cut a new gasket out of old chart paper, repair for the impeller that might have been part of the overheating problem. Cutting it out took some focus and skill, thus "creative."(?) I even had to draw/copy the pattern. Lordy!

I "did the receipts," calculated our per person, per day costs last month. Not bad. Only3 cents difference between last month and this, though there are three less days this month. $47/person/day. And I cooked the chicken. Some check off the list activities. I thought to attend a yoga class at the Manatee center. David and I went out to put the outboard on the dinghy and lower the dinghy. The wind was fierce. The steadying sail was full. small waves were buffeting us. Never mind. I don't want to dinghy across this lumpy water. Then I realized I was stuck on the boat. No escape. No freedom of choice. I freaked. Then the yoga folks who had "approved" my registration for the free class emailed that I, as a new student, needed to print this release form and fill it out and bring it with me. Well that did it. I don't have a printer on board, not that they knew I was on board. "I am not having a good time. This sucks," I declared to David. "Not you or anything you are doing or not doing, this situation just sucks." "I hate the fierceness of the wind. I hate the upheaval in the cabin. I hate that we have to do all our engine work rather than hiring someone. I hate that we have to, or feel we have to, be so cautious about money." I hate that we aren't already on the Abacos!!!

Mostly, it was the wind that pushed me over the edge. It is so insistent. I read once, maybe twice as the story has stayed with me so completely, based on a true story about a murder on Isle of Shoals. Three women, I think, lived on the mostly deserted island, their men were away fishing (?), early settlement days, and the wind was relentless, day after day without letting up. The women were stranded inside a small house, doing all the winter chores, truly no escape. One killed the other two. Crazy.   Now I'm not feeling that extreme but I do touch on understanding that desperation. Feeling stranded on a boat, intense and relentless wind.  David thinks he might want to put the motor on the dinghy as a form of self preservation. one or the other of us can always leave.

We moved from anchoring to a mooring for the next several days. A new friend from the Sailing Club offered the mooring. David plead need to not drag anchor with our engine torn apart.

A change of attitude. Working together to pick up the first mooring option was good enough. Then we needed to move again. I needed to be at the helm and I can't see in the dark very well. David and I donned our headsets and he told me where to go, so to speak. I suggested that he LOVES that role, telling me what to do and where to go. He confirmed. But he gave clear directions of go forward, turn port, hard to port, slowly, see the mooring ball? Yes, but what about that boat?  Anyway the cooperation on a task that required both of our best thinking and best behavior changed the mood of the day.

And this evening is luscious. Full moon. Gentle breeze. Aft deck with alcoholic drinks. Flag flapping. Puff clouds. And giant pleasure boats coming into the basin. One was called Mind Games, 240' long with a 35' beam.. There are three really tall cranes over at the industrial docks loading a cargo ship. They look like animated birthday candles, white with red flames (lights in this case) on the ends, that cooperate in movement or tasks. Just now two are together and stationary. One moves away and must be rotating as I can no longer see its red "flame." And to my other side, the port side, on the barrier island are four tall palm trees. The tops are lit and look as if sparklers frozen in space/time. The anchor lights from so many boats remind me of a more beautiful sight in Marathon two years ago. Such a beautiful star field memory.

And so I sit, on the aft deck in warm, privileged bliss Mar a lago (or however you spell that) is only a few miles south and still I'm at peace for now, the warm breeze mitigating the stress and disappointment of the day. Grateful.