Roadside havoc in the Alamo city

Metal and cement mesh at highway speeds.

 

 

 

 

     Stuck in San Antonio. Something that can always be expected with the Vanagon is minor road problems. In this case, my bearing failed on the rear driver side, causing the retaining nut for my rear wheel to come off allowing the tire with brake drum the liberty of traveling down the highway unaccompanied by myself. The sudden loss of stability and metallic sounds that erupt when you suddenly go from traveling on four wheels to traveling on three wheels is something I hope not to experience too many times in my life. The brakes go soft as fluid all oozes into the pads that have nothing to push against. The sparks visible from the driver’s side mirror are evidence of the problem if one were deaf to the noise. I reacted by yanking the emergency brake and downshifting, slowing myself just enough to get out of the traffic on highway 10. After three hours of waiting on the highway I finally got a tow truck driver competent enough to get the rig onto a truck. Unfortunately the mechanic that I was towed to, who has been in the shop here for forty years, is past his prime, and unable to take on as much work as he would like. His normal four day work week is being cut to three on this occasion and he is taking a four day holiday. I may get the parts I need, a hub assembly, from Oklahoma tomorrow, or Saturday, or Monday. What more can be expected from life than uncertainty? I am not in the best part of town, quite a run down section I’m told with crack dealers and prostitutes, I was told by the gentleman here that I am more than welcome to stay until the parts come in, at which point we will transport the van to his friends shop. Until then, I’m told there is a river walk a few blocks over which I will likely check out this afternoon.

My home for an indeterminate time

 

 

     It is hard to leave the beach, and all the people that I’ve met there. Wayne and Diane were wonderful friends to have especially with their love of gardening. As luck would have it, I met three kindred spirits a few days before taking off. Kandice, Sarah, and John will hopefully pop back up in my life again at some point, perhaps next winter if not sooner. I feel for Tom, my boat neighbor, who is now eighty years old, as we were great companions during my time there. All the days talking politics, bullion, guns, and drag racing will live on in my memory though he may be gone in a handful of years. Isn’t that how all of our society is constructed? From stories. We learn how the world is from the generations before us, and are almost bound by tradition as we head of into the future. Putting kids behind the wheel of a red bodied, yellow roofed, foot powered plastic play toy comes to mind. Just getting them used to the fact that cars are an essential part of our life.

     Right now I’m trying to redesign my own life, into one that is not so dependent on fossil fuels. Going back to my property feels like the only way I can go back to the land. My plight is more in line with the Native Americans however, being driven to the fringe of habitable environments to survive. All the fertile floodplains and creek sides have been gobbled up by the affluent, who no more care to garden than they care to change their own brake pads. I will have to haul water in until I can build a well, or catch what rainwater falls from the sky. The desert landscapes that I have seen rejuvenated with the techniques of permaculture give me hope.

     It will be nice to lay down some roots. I look forward to developing lasting friendships with my neighbors and coworkers. I will be isolated without cell phone service, but also removed from the incessant noise of our news and culture. I think it will be a great chance to just go off and be myself, without outside influence for a little while. I am a little nervous, but in a good way.

    Everything is rusted in TX. Starting day two of looking for parts. Wishing I was at the beach, and not in the mechanics yard.

A group of parasailers

Living the beach life.

Ol’ Buttercup soaking up the salt

     I am at the beach now, and living the dream. So many wonderful moments to embrace interacting with the ocean. From droplets of water dripping off of pelicans and landing on my back while sunbathing, to making a cavitation bubble as I kick my foot in the water and think I bumped something. Not that I haven’t bumped plenty of jellyfish out there. The solitude of the water is overwhelming. The shoreline and all that happens on it silenced by the crashing of the waves. Bobbing along and riding the accumulated wind which crests at meeting the beach.

Tourists on horseback!

     My whole body is wrecked from all the maintenance and surfing over the last few weeks. My neck most of all. Holding my heavy head while surfing or laying under a car has taken it’s toll. I have been spending all the time I can at the beach, especially when there is a little wind swell to be had. I could sit in a beach chair and read for considerable amounts of time without getting bored. Intermittently I throw a ball for muddy, who is becoming fearless when fetching through ocean waves. Fish randomly jump from the gulf and the terns and seagulls comb the beach. Eastern Willets gather their food in the surf, and sandpipers scurry along avoiding the saltwater. Long lines of pelican’s will occasionally fly over, taking advantage of the wind. One day here I found a Coconut on the high tide mark. My tongue was moist at the thought of some delicious coconut water, but the vessel had travelled too far, and was sodden with seawater. Living at the beach is only possible for someone who loves the ocean. One has to become accustomed to crawling into bed with a little bit of sand on their feet. Sand certainly does get everywhere.  In Texas, at Bob hall pier,  you can also expect to see some horses strolling majestically in the surf. 

     I have gone back for a few days at a time, to Rockport, in order to make a little bit of money working for Diane, who I met through Wayne. They are a happy couple. Right now Diane is trying to get the yard ready for the hummingbird tours which encourage visitors here in the summer and fall. Wayne and I set up a greenhouse in her back yard which he will be using to get many plants started. It will aslo be used to protect some of Diane’s plants next winter if we have a hard freeze again, since this winter we had temperatures get all the way down to the low twenties. Killing many of her less hardy species. Last visit over there I was also able to change out my clutch, which I had been putting off for far too long. Jittering at intersections. I will still be able to get a few more days of work there before I leave, as they are clearing the roof of leaves and twigs, as well as building a planter in the front yard. There is something to be said for doing work that is joyful and gives one a sense of bettering the world. All those hungry migrating hummingbirds! Of course, they will also fill up on sugar water which is filled regularly by Diane. Likely it is the same hummingbirds who have this spot marked on the map in their minds as a ‘can’t miss’ stop on their annual migration. They will need the energy to flap those little wings at one thousand miles per hour.

Maintenance of the Vanagon: Changing the clutch.

     I will be excited when I get back to Colorado to do a little seed planting of my own. I am going to start by planting some desert type flowers in the swales I dug. I ordered seeds last year but can no longer remember what I bought. I harvested some giant yucca seeds from around Joshua Tree area of California also.  It is nearly time to go and get some Pondorosa Pine trees to start my grove.

     Well, the tide is flowing to low, and with it the surf will improve. It is time to head back out now for an afternoon session. Surely my shoulders will fail me soon, but who knows what waves we will have tomorrow. Have to catch them while I can.

Good Morning Sunshine!

 

    

Eating my elephant one bite at a time…..

     The masses have gone back into their weekday routine: work, drive, drink. Not necessarily in that order. I heard them all early this morning, the rumbling of engines on 35 a few hundred yards away. The lawn maintenance guy is trimming the already weakened winter grass, and there are surveyors about for who knows what got awful structure they want to build next to the beach for a hefty profit. I have much to get done too, since the cold front put a halt to all work outside for the last two days. The fountain even froze to create a precarious ice structure that kids were later kicking at in their inquisitive way. It was nice to have a break to read however. I picked up “Bowditch’s Coastal Navigation” from the library, and find his experience, especially in regard to the mathematics describing celestial navigation very intriguing. I also finally got a hold of the previous owner in order to write a bill of sale that the coast guard demanded, USCG 1340, in lieu of our notarized hand written one (oh bureaucracy!). I was starting to get worried as the guy wasn’t answering his phone, and I had no other ways to get in touch with him.

     Now that the cold front has passed, I will be taking the sailboat out. It will probably be tomorrow or the next day, since I’d like to have the Lazarette hatch that I’ve been working on installed. It will probably be a long an arduous task, me refining the tensions on all of the standing rigging that I have made adjustments to. Oh what Joys it will be to finally take her for a ride though! There is not much on board that is “stowed for sea”, but with a quick run around the cabin I’ll be able to take care of most things, undoubtably missing one or another which will fall from a precarious perch. I’m curious what the coast guard will hit me for, if they do end up boarding. Likely there is something that I will be missing. I have life jackets, sound horn, fire extinguishers, passive ventilation that I think meets requirements, and I’ll be sure to remove the propane tank before I go out (since it is neither secured nor does it have an emergency solenoid cutout or pressure gage – I’ve been bleeding the line every time I use her.)

     The starboard side Lazarette and the front hatch cover have been my main points of focus as of recently. I took the advice of a friend and made an attempt to partially salvage the Lazarette hatch in which the wood that the hinges were going through had rotted out about half way to centerboard. I took a skill saw and cut across the board, carful not to disturb the fiberglass on the top side. I then glued a piece of plywood, and roughed up the surrounding wood in an attempt to give the glass something to fix itself too. Finally I layered composite fiberglass and a weave fiberglass matt that I hope will be strong enough.  I’ll never have to repair it again as long as I own the boat. The front hatch had a rotting piece of wood covering it, so I ripped it all out and replaced it with Luan, the flexible board for exterior doors. With A little paint and some NP1(the king of all sealants/adhesives) I will be sure to have a solid front hatch for many squalls to come.

     I had the pleasure of a visit from two good friends as well, who stopped by on their way to Portrero Chico in Mexico to go climbing. It worked out well that they arrived during the cold front, as their tent was more in line with the moderate temperatures they expected and not the horrifically cold and windy weather that arrived for a day or two. We heated the boat with the oven, a lasagna, and I made a batch of hot wine that we savored while playing hearts.  Let the good times roll!

Rockport, TX

     It has been a few days since I arrived at the boat, but my decision to see if I can’t sell her has lingered on my mind. I am putting her on Craigslist today to see what options are out there. If nothing else, I think I will come out on top financially. It is easy to write when things are going really well, but a little harder when times are tougher. Isn’t that what builds character, the hardships in life? I have been overwhelmed by all that there is to take care of on the boat. I raised all the sails to see how they look, just a few pinholes to be repaired with sail tape. The engine we got running with some starting fluid, though it had a knock and a seawater port which is clogged. The extra sails were damp from the leaking forward hatch, so needed to be aired out and refolded. It is almost impossible to get anything dry in this climate, since a misting fog covers everything in the morning. On many days the sun comes out and will temporarily make things dry. I lost another half of my potatoes to mold(should have been better about cleaning the dirt off thouroughtly). There was no propane tank or regulator, so still haven’t gotten the inboard stove working. It is hard for me to want to spend money on such things, since my income at the moment is zero (vanagons stove works just fine). I hope however to remedy the monetary situation by boarding one of the boats that takes off looking for oysters daily, and take in a small cut of the forty bags weighing ninety pounds that they are allowed each work day. The work is possible only if Muddy can come along: the crux of any work I get here. In general, boats are hole into which the amount of money which can be thrown into it is unlimited. I am getting so used to the boat, that I actually had the sensation that the van was rocking back and forth this morning while I was cooking my breakfast.

     There is a brighter side to life here: mainly the comfort of wearing shorts and a T-shirt all day long. I even find it hot during the portion of the day that the sun does decide to come out. Muddy may find it hot most of the time, since he’s got such a winter coat. Right now he is panting in order to cool himself off, which is his modus operandi most of the day here. I also get to go surfing and kite boarding on the regular, a consolation for not being able to ski or ice climb this year. I have had five good winters of skiing however, so it is a nice change of pace to be chilling in the warm climate here. The forcast is for a slight wind this afternoon, which will hopefully burn off this fog that has settled into the harbor. If I am lucky it will be strong enough for me to launch my kite again, and be pulled around the shallow beachside just a walking distance away.

     The birds that are around are my sole ecological companions. I was watching a great blue heron catch fish last night, standing on the edge of the pier peering into the water, then pouncing head first and arising with a fish three times the size of my thumb. He then oriented the fish in a head first manner to the back of his throat, and down it goes. I have also seen cormorants diving, and common loons. The brown pelicans are sitting at the end of the jetty where I go surfing. Grackles are continuously scouting their next meal around the van, and seagulls, which outnumber all the other birds, are similarly cruising and scavenging, often battling with one another for a coveted perch. There is a tower like fountain across from the boat which many birds frequent for water.

     If you ever wondered where the cotton for your T-shirts came from, you can bet it came from central texas. I saw plenty on the drive down to clothe the country for a decade. I also have found everybody to be quite friendly here, especially among the boat owners. I have had no shortage of advice on what to do next. I will continue to tinker, and fix things until the next stage reveals itself.

     The problems of the world persist, despite my losing track of them.  Oil money and the opinions which favor it are prevalent down here. I saw a kid, a twenty-five year old, throw a beer can into the water because “the harbor was full of junk already.” He grew up here and has the mindset that it doesn’t really matter anyhow, it will always be all polluted and junked up. He has worked on oil rigs in the past, but has also worked on fishing charters. He, and the rest of us who consume goods, are part of the problem. In the navy we threw aluminum cans overboard in burlap sacks with reasoning that the oxidation-reduction reactions with the saltwater would decompose them in a reasonable amount of time.  When far enough out, we also pumped radioactive water overboard.  Dilution is the solution!  Fukushima is still emptying into the pacific anyhow…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh wanderlust

     I will be taking a leisure day today, packing for my new destination, San Diego. It does feel really nice to have the freedom to go galavanting around. Some of my good friends from the navy are having a reunion in Pheonix, AZ, so tonight I will head off in that direction, arriving sometime tomorrow mid day. I need to dig some more potatoes for the trip, since I won’t be coming back from California until the end of November I am thinking. This is my favorite way to travel anyhow: No limits on how long your staying here or there, free to change plans and move in a different direction at will. I also had a facebook friend from my San Diego days who needs some help taking down a five year project Goat Farm in Joshua Tree, so I am going to make an effort to stop by and help. I would also just like to chat with him a bit, because what he was doing out there is similar to what I want to do on the land that I bought a few years back in Cotopaxi, CO. I want to find out what his biggest hurdles were, and what hardships I get to look forward too. Climbing ain’t bad in Joshua Tree either. My first big mission after the reunion will be to surf my face off in Ocean Beach. Probably head to San Onofre or Black’s Beach afterward.

     Even with all the farm and travel tasks I have to do, my family has needed help and kept me busy. My dad is framing in a trailer to insulate it to provide shelter for one more homeless veteran this winter, with a dog. If the guy has an address then he can get food stamps, and stretch his meager seven hundred dollar income further. I told him it was a bad idea; a waste of resources and time; not worthwhile to do whatsoever. I also told him that seeking out the homeless as tenants is probably not a good for a multitude of reasons. Most people are harimg_0003d headed, and my dad is no exception. He has had luck with being a landlord, and want’s to maintain that residual income in as many places as possible. Talking with a contractor friend, it is not the first time anybody has tried to improve or salvage a structure that didn’t merit it. He told me of a barn that took so much wood to reinforce the rot that they could have just built a whole new structure. I see renting as a nearly immoral thing to do. Get a loan on a property(the value of which is inflated due to loan availability) from a bank and then have somebody else pay the mortgage, often while the landlord/owner allows the residence to fall into dilapidation. Rarely is it insulated properly, which increases the resources used to heat the homes, and eats into the pocket books of the tenants.

     I just got back from Paonia yesterday, where I was helping the big hearted farmers, who donated to me all of the tomato and pepper seedlings I used on the orchard, dig up some tuberose bulbs. There was one flower in bloom in a hoop house nearby: Ohhhh the fragrance! Potatoes, dahlias, tuberose, all have to be dug up, overwintered in sawdust(to keep from rotting), and replanted in the spring when conditions are amiable for the bulbs and tubers. img_0011All this to keep a few flowers around! Farmers are giving the best of gifts to the world by continuing to provide everybody with fresh healthy good food and flowers. They are the least lazy and the most hopeful bunch I have met. There is so much behind the scenes work that food prices should really be fifty to eighty percent higher than what they are. We were also finishing up taking down the drip tape for watering and the black plastic weed barriers that are put up to save on cultivation time. I wish I could have seen Zephros farm mid season when everything was full on, but It’s easy to not find the time. It is rare that I ever leave Paonia short of feeling spiritually fulfilled. I have read that there are antidepressant microbes in the soil, perhaps this is why. Paonia is one of the places that I could see myself settling down, but don’t ever go there, you wouldn’t like it.

Expending fossil fuels to amplify climate change

     Day by day the tasks ahead of me fall to the rear. This weekend my dad and myself completed the monumental task of moving everything I’ve ever collected into a storage unit, or as for gardening stuff, to my old hunters cabin, which is on the land I bought in a kind of mid-life crisis while going to 20161007_183928school. I need to get some rain barrels, but I hope that place will be a great spot for me to build once my wanderlust has subsided into the ever present aches and pains of aging. I surmise that if I go to the property to post up for the winter, it would be possible that I would become comfortable and never leave on a sailing trip: Hence my persistence to run to the ocean. The most interesting thing that I saw on the drive was certainly a red motorcycle, a crotch rocket, which passed us three times while we were driving, at twenty-five miles per hour up monarch pass. The first time we had just started up the pass, and he passed us going down, knee out and leaning into the curve. The second he was unnoticed until he passed us at probably sixty miles an hour heading up the pass. Before we could make it to the top, again he was screaming downhill for another go at the curves. What a way to risk it all! Sheer cliffs on the south side if ever a tire should slip loose from it’s grip would deter me from ever making such a bold statement of my motorcycle skill. On a track is one thing, but WOW!

     I harvested all of my squash in the garden including pumpkins, australian butternut, and a few patty pan. The garden is barely alive after many of the plants were wiped out by the freeze. There is a low spot at the bottom of the20161007_110236 hill which allowed for some air movement, so that the tomatoes I have in the upper part made it out alive, this time. Even though my weeds have been neglected in the garden since the end of the peach season, I am sad to see it all go. I will certainly need gloves to get at the potatoes when I dig them due to all the sharp weed capsules. I hope I can roast a few of these squash over the campfire for dinner, perhaps in the deep red desert of Utah.

     I am embarrassed to say that I saw the presidential debate on monday night. The presidential election has turned into a blatant entertainment event. Neither of these people are worthy of the presidency, and the country should act accordingly. The revolution does not start at the poling booth, it starts when the people refuse to submit to the tyranny that has crept up on them over the last two hundred years. Its YOUR job to fight it citizen.

20161011_153328     I changed my timing belt on my truck yesterday, having a few loose ends to finish up today: a gasket for the radiator hose, and tensioning all of the belts. I have always been fascinated by mechanical things. What genius to control so much by gear ratio’s an20161011_153304d spinning pulleys. Working on cars feels like a fun puzzle. You take it apart, with a wrench here, or a socket and extension there, all the while keeping careful track of your sequences and parts. Unlike taking something electrical apart, you get the gist of the way something mechanical operates.

     Since this is the first time I’ve talked of mechanical things, I also have to address climate change. Yes, it is a real thing. There are three facts that show the peril we are in, and each of these can be validated by a quick google search. Remember that it is your job to educate yourself ever since the internet made all information available to anybody and everybody? First, global temperature follows atmospheric carbon dioxide concentration. Second, the historical atmospheric carbon was cycling between 250ppm and 280ppm(by measuring the gas proportions in ice core samples way back). Our current ppm CO2 exceeds 400ppm, and in my lifetime atmospheric carbon will never be less than that. Third and finally, we have not slowed down the amount of CO2 that we are spewing into the atmosphere, and at the same time continually destroying our carbon sinks in the amazon and boreal forest. Four hundred ppm was a theoretical tipping point, at which some of the earths temperature mechanisms exacerbate the problem instead of fixing it. Permafrost, frozen for centuries, will thaw and release vast amounts of methane, which is an even more powerful greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide. As well, the melting ice caps will reduce the reflectivity of the planet(less reflective surface) causing more energy to be absorbed. As atmospheric temperature rises, so does the air’s ability to hold water(physics). We can all expect stronger storms(more thermal energy-enthalpy), localized droughts, flooding, sea level rise, and loss of habitat for many of the plants who established themselves hundreds of years ago. If you look at the forest service map of projected habitat change (temp and precip) it becomes readily apparent that long established trees are going to find themselves without adequate precipitation in the near future, needing to become higher in elevation(precip and elevation are correlated) instantly, but being rooted in the earth, unable to move. Sudden aspen decline is an example of this in Colorado.

     The changing climate may be in a battle against capitalism. Both cannot continue to exist in my opinion. It is up to YOU which comes out on top. It all starts with your daily activities. Are you flying to LA again this week? Maybe give that job up. In reality, it will take system wide social changes to actually combat our problem, yet those changes would be considered fringe by most. I’ll try not to be despairing about our plight, but it sure is hard to watch the bleaching of coral reefs(CO2 absorbed by the ocean is one of the largest carbon sinks) and the die off of our forests.  We certainly are not on a good path.

co2-vs-temp

Being a boat owner and how to eat an elephant one bite at a time

img_0168

Well, I pulled the trigger on the sailboat, the 39′ Columbia. She is certainly a piece of work: a project boat. The guy who owned her previously was going to leave her at the docks and let the marina auction her off, there was a seizure notice on the vessel the first time I checked her out. The hull is certainly worth five grand anyhow, and it was five years ago or so that an old man was single handing her. The owner I bought from only owned the boat for a year, and the bottom paint was done just before he got her. It looked good to my untrained eye, aside from the barnacles that had started to build. I probably would have backed out of the deal except I couldn’t because I just paid eighteen hundred dollars in back slip fees to get the boat at all. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder I guess: with a little work she will be a cruising machine.

I have itemized the list in my head of things that need immediate attention and fixing. First and foremost would be the engine, I was told that she needed injection work, nothing more. Second would be cleaning out the potable water tank and fixing the cap, which looks like a piece of forged iron that broke off in the fill tubing. Third is the toilet, which I was told also does not work. The winch was removed by the previous guy because it was jamming up, so I’ll need a new one of those, along with an anchor chain to match. The boat comes with a danforth and plow anchor, so I will be close to ready to set sail and anchor outside of a beach with minimal extra cash. Which is good, because at two-hundred and seventy dollars a month slip fees and one hundred dollars extra for live-aboard, I can’t afford to stay in the marina long. All the running rigging that I can see, aside from the main halyard, which is brand new, look like junk. I will certainly want a new furling line for the furling jib if I want to use it for a storm jib in heavy weather without it snapping. The previous owner told me that he took it out only once and that the mast had a bend in it; this makes sense since the only piece of standing rigging that I found to be loose was a lower shroud. Of course this doesn’t necessarily mean that all of the standing rigging is good, there is obvious rust here and there. I will have to look over everything much closer before taking off. I don’t know how kosher it is to use climbing ropes for my running rigging, since they are more elastic likely than normal running rigging(I assume), but I will certainly be salvaging all of my climbing ropes to make it happen.

More than what the boat is now, where it is currently bent me toward buying it. I drove to Port Aransas one day and was pleased to discover there were surfers in the water. This east facing coastline gets much more surf than where I was previously in Freeport, the pier and jetty there help to shape the sand beneath of course too. Also, everybody that I was meeting at that live-aboard marina was nice and offering a hand when needed. They all realize what work a boat can be. I have two five gallon batches of homemade wine right now, and I was thinking I should take them as my bartering tool for labor. I will also be able to feed a few people, since I’ll be harvesting the totality of my garden while I’m back home in Grand Junction. Most of the people in Rockport are dead broke though, not much of an economy in the winter is the word that I got. The guy on a trawler next to me tried to sell me a bag of tools, possibly one that was taken from the boat I bought. In the repossession, or perhaps another time, the lock was removed from the cabin. The previous owner told me that he had a bag of tools on the boat, which weren’t there. Stolen as well was standing rigging and running rigging that he said were in a shed which was available to all the other people with a slip at his previous marina. Someone is being dishonest, but I can’t really tell whom. I have come to expect some dishonesty in people more and more. A damn shame, and one reason that I want to set sail. I try to be candid.

I drove back from Texas yesterday and of course had to stop in on the ten acres of raw land that I bought to hopefully homestead on. I made mention of the two three hundred gallon water tanks that were stolen from the property at the county store and the two there told me it was probably those texans, and maybe if I talked around I could find them and get them back if they weren’t sold off already. The store clerks were older, with weathered skin, looking to be in their sixties. The lady told me that she “lived on a boats for twenty years!” I don’t know that I’m headed on that Dhamma path but it was sure fun to find some camaraderie in her. She reminded me that b-o-a-t stands for “break out another thousand.” Fair enough.

Today while driving I serendipitously found a ribbed inflatable boat for only seven hundred dollars; keep in mind these often sell for two thousand. This guy only does two days of selling every year, and I happened to get back from Texas one day before he quit, and had that very morning been looking at life rafts(with the rusted standing rigging in mind). Is it bad to make big life decisions on the whim of a feeling of auspicious happenings? I don’t think so. But it sure doesn’t help my budget. I probably shouldn’t have, yet I know that if I need to sell it when I get down there and am hungry, starving, from depleting my resources with no work, then I can. Also I think there is a church nearby that does meals, so I heard a little birdie say. Rice and beans every day. Rice and beans.

I still think sometimes if the 31 ft seafarer would have not been a better boat, but then reminisce on her loose stations and failing mizzen rigging and I think I made the right choice. Also that lead keel she’s got doesn’t make her fast. When I first boarded I had noticed how it rocked a lot with the narrower beam. That coupled with the statement by the previous owner that “you gotta worry about getting seasick” made me think that it may have been an issue for muddy or myself. Not that I’m not buying the ‘behind the ear’ sea sickness patches before I depart.

Saw this quote recently and it made me smile:

img_0163 img_0161 The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails.” – William A. Ward