When I close my eyes all I see are big blue waves. Rolling towards me. They wail. They howl. They thunder. Like a pack of blue banshees.
I make the banshees melt by pressing my fingers lightly onto my eyelids. They melt into a thousand dancing suns. Now I feel all high and dry again.
I can hear a choir too. Only in one ear. My left one. And only when it rests against my pillow, which now has more water droplets than feathers.
Maybe the choir is made of something watery too. Like bubbles. The bubble choir sings with soprano voices. They sing, “If you fear the loss of something you will loose it. La-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la. That which is meant to stay will never leave you. La-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la.” They sing this over and over and over.
I get sick of it. I turn my head and put the right ear onto the pillow and then I hear a voice say softly, “Come into the water!”
I’m thinking how much closer to the water can I get? I’m sleeping inside of it. I’m wearing it. It’s all over me. I am more water than skin at this stage!
I lost a door knob today. I guess it wasn’t meant to stay. I have been in fear of loosing it for months too. It’s the one that goes to the bathroom and it’s been finicky, will lock itself shut. If it does so while I’m in it, there would be no way to escape. There’s no hatch. Nothing. This is clearly a design flaw.
I am fearful of getting trapped anywhere, especially there! That would stink. And can you imagine if I got stuck in there while alone at sea. Hell no! For weeks now I have refused to close that door, but everyone else does.
Today we couldn’t get it to open. The usual jiggling didn’t work. All our hygienic products were in there. And we needed to brush our teeth!
Sava took the front of the knob apart. It still wouldn’t open. I got out the hacksaw and razor blades and he was getting ready to slice into it. Then Josh comes along and twists the knob really hard every direction and busts it wide open. Sava said, “My man!” When it opened.
I think we have Josh’s bread making muscles to thank.
I threw the knob into the ocean after that.
We also spent five hours repairing the jib between yesterday and today. But lord if we could only figure out how to get it hoisted back on the furler in 20 knot winds. It’s beyond me. We were on the bow crashing down into the troughs of waves that would splash and climb up onto our shoulders. At one point Josh looked like he had wings made or water. The sea covered him all the way up to his nose.
We attempted to hoist, but more damage was caused by it flapping erratically on the stay for the staysail. Anybody have an idea of how one can do this in a fresh breeze with 7 foot seas? We’re not doing too bad with the main an staysail, but another knot could add a lot.
As you can see, I never really know what I’m doing.
We stashed the jib in the V-berth for now. Everything wet that I can’t bare to look at is in there. And my V-berth has given birth to a bunch of tiny winged insects. How? They are born out of the salt water I suppose. Everything is all damp in there. It smells musty too. Now the wet jib is in there on top of other wet things. Everything in the v-berth needs to lounge in the sun for a long time. Maybe a year.
These insects are driving me bananas. I have never seen this before on Juniper. I found a little red on in the galley today too. What if customs sees all the creatures that were born on this passage and won’t let me into Tahiti!
Beyond all that everyone’s in good spirits today. We took ocean baths, and watched the pink sunset over a can of pineapple in the cockpit.
I think we are feeling sunnier because the mood of the see is calming. It’s wild how easily the mood of the ocean can seep into my skin and get all tangled with my spirit. When the ocean’s restless, I’m restless. When the ocean’s sour, I’m sour. When the ocean’s spunky, I’m spunky. When the ocean’s gentle, I’m gentle.
I take all her moods, hold them on my tongue, let them roll around. I take her good. I take her bad. And you know what babes, if I couldn’t do this, if I couldn’t take the ocean for all that she is, if I was just a fair weathered sailor, then I wouldn’t be offshore right now.