Always Saying Goodbye

A beautiful day to be on the ocean, but the beginning of the end of our trip.  

My Dad was extraordinarily good at maintaining friendships. He had many people in his life that he'd known for 30, 40, 50 or more years.  Me, on the other hand, I seem to make friends easily, but let them drift away just as easily.  Maybe it's a basic personality characteristic, maybe it's a function of our different lifestyles -- he enjoyed travel, but for his entire life home was within basically a 50-mile radius of where he was born. I, on the other hand, definitely have the wanderlust gene. Even before moving onto the boat, "home" is wherever I happened to be at the moment, wherever Uncle Sam sent me, wherever the anchor is set.  So each of us may have the best adaptive strategy for our different lifestyles, my ability to make friends and his ability to keep them.

But still, the trouble with being friends with adventurous people is that they're always going off on new adventures, and you're always saying goodbye.  Putting a damper on my excitement at the sailing, and looking forward to Charleston, was the awareness that this was the beginning of the end of our crazy tallship adventure.  (Little did I know how close that end was!) Part of me was deeply weary, and ready to go home and sleep in my own boat, but at the same time I wasn't ready to close this chapter. I was tired of the same conversations with visitors while at the same time I couldn't have the conversations I wished with some of my crewmates due to the language barriers.  I was tired of the hard work and the long hours and the cold showers and the do-it-yourself breakfast that was skimpy by our American standards. But I hadn't yet had the chance to learn all I could from David the cook or Skia the archaeologist. I hadn't heard enough stories about Spanish customs or caught Karen's infectious joy at everyday life or - - - The only way I could describe the contradiction was that I was ready for it to stop, but I wasn't ready for it to end. I wasn't sure the friendships I had made so far were going to be durable enough to survive the time apart. And I certainly wasn't ready for the price you pay for making friends with adventurous people -- the inevitable goodbyes that were ahead.  So I'm going to focus on the fun, silly times. (and I'll keep adding pix to this post as I find 'em.)

To quote from Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne) "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

Playing in the galley on a calm day on passage, assembly-line style making croketas (sp?): David shaped rich little bundles of shredded chicken, flour, and butter, and passed them to me to dredge in flour and dip in egg; then they were passed to Aleix to roll in bread crumbs.  Then chilled, deep fried, and served with much laughter.

They called it "laugh therapy:" Aleix, Roger, Ramiro, and Braya unwind after an intense day with visitors. 

Partying pirate style in New London, Braya, Kiki, Xarlei, and local pirate Newport Jack

One VERY big glass of rum and coke at Karen's going-away party (Dan, Ramiro, Karen, Aleix)

"Team Zona Noble" got very good at setting up or breaking down this area full of breakables and elegant furniture quickly for every passage.  (me, Carl, Skia, and Jamie)

Face painting

Chef David with fresh vegetables donated by a friend of our newest crew member Skia at the start of our passage to Wilmington

Dan and Xoco, the boatswain, working on a splice

Fernando finding an odd place to nap in a bundled-up sail on deck