A boater’s afternoon delight
That pit of a fridge can be so frustrating when the thin packet of pizza salami I know I bought can’t be found. Making coffee means rummaging in an awkward dark locker and removing 13 items before finding the espresso decaf.
A strange knock develops in the engine room and two days are dedicated to boat yoga, a mechanic visit, and recreating the sound in as many situations as possible. Only to discover the diver who weeks ago put a new sacrificial zinc on the prop while scraping the bottom didn’t put it on correctly.
We’ve been living in a land home for three years since we moved off Silom as liveaboards, and the sheer pleasure of a morning shower in our ensuite is still something that can never be taken for granted. Or the wonder felt opening the fridge and right there, in the deli drawer is the salami in its predictable spot. And bonus… there’s no leaked pickle juice coating it.
Oh yes, boating can be frustrating.
Recently, after a discussion about this with my daughter, she marvelled at how I’ve done this as long as I have.
Instantly, I am defensive. It keeps me active and moving, I say, and socially engaged with many different circles of friends. I’m always meeting strangers and exploring strange places, having strange adventures, and solving strange problems. All those things elders are supposed to do, right?
And then I continued, “With just the two of us, long days, there’s always so much opportunity for afternoon delight. Like last week…” I continued, as she put her hands over her ears…
“No. Mum, I do not want to hear this… lalalala”.
No, no I mean our afternoon trips out in the kayak…you never know what it will turn into, I explained! We had headed out from Pirates Cove to visit Herring Bay off the north tip of Ruxton Island. The sun was shining and it was calm as we paddled across Ruxton Passage aiming for the red buoy to explore the reefs and tiny islets.
We paddled along the sandstone shore, marvelling at the sculpted rock, created over time by the constantly moving water. Rounding the tip we entered a tiny cove with crystal clear water filled with oysters. We watched a mama duck gather her chicks, allowing them to climb on her back as they made for safety. I felt bad for them: we had disturbed an afternoon swimming lesson.
I’m a bit of a rock hound, so we spent a peaceful time exploring the rock formations and sea life that was clinging to shore, crabs and many starfish which we have noticed we are seeing more of than in past years.
The water here is so clear. The sandstone shoreline has been changing shape for millennia, and the awareness that indigenous people had been here, living and learning for thousands of years, makes one feel a connection to the sea, the land, people and the planet that I can only describe as spiritual.
The inconveniences and frustrations fade. Joy and the appreciation of beauty begin to fill my heart. That is, until we hear air leaking out of the inflatable kayak on the paddle home and we are again back on the rollercoaster of boating.
Information about Pirates Cove and Herring Bay is found in the Salish Sea Pilot cruising guide.
Thanks, Lynn. Great descriptions. Yes, the change from liveaboard to land can bring appreciated advantages but the solace and wonder of nature is very special. I like your kayak with the big cockpit. What kind is it?