Thursday, February 9, 2017


Every night here lasts about twelve hours and I go to sleep around dark. By 3am I run out of patience, rise from bed, putter around the cabin, check a few things on-line, then go back to bed...or stay up and read. By 5am, one can hear the engines of a dinghy or two taking folks to catch the first ferry to St Thomas to get to work or catch a flight north. The first hints of possible sunrise show in the east and roosters start to crow more frequently. This morning, as the full moon set, I pulled a seat cushion from the cockpit and headed up to the bow for morning yoga: somehow the feel of the wind and the movement of the boat always make it more attractive. By the time I finish, the sky has lightenned and often shows some color: time to pour some coffee, sit in the cockpit facing the wind and sunrise, and enjoy some cereal...and maybe catch up on my morning internet routine while the crowing roosters nearly drown out the tinkle of halyards on masts.

Well, I suppose I should put this away for now and go work on Gigi, my neighbor's boat. He is running into major deck leaking that is making the interior of his boat moldy
...and he is not around enough to deal with it. Then I'll ask Alan, the mechanic, to come work on my engine some more and tell me what else to fix (I replaced some fuel lines yesterday), make a dump run, and get a couple bags of ice.

By then the sun will be high enough to burn me, so I'll work indoors: the bed sheets need modification..or I may just wash them and store them away with some dessicant to stave off the mold. My wind scoop (made of old and weak sail-cloth) has a rip to sew. And I have minor leaks in my own deck that need attention... Live on a boat and you will NEVER have nothing to do!

There are plenty of drawbacks to this life: missing Cynthia (she just headed back north after a couple weeks of hunting lions with me and finding a deep reef that had probably never been hunted), expensive and low-quality veggies, ever-present mold, rust, and leaks, radiation burns from my favorite nuclear reactor (yes, the sun), and the glaring sodium vapor lights on shore..

Ah, but those dawns...


  1. Here is a really good read for you...after yoga and coffee - Be Well, tom

  2. Hello, Dustin -- It seems as though it's been a while since we've responded to your wonderful blog. There's been the election of course which has knocked the wind out of us. (Though we've been to four demonstrations and inundated our congressmen with emails and letters.) On the positive side, however, our daughter McKinley is due to have a baby girl in mid-May and we sold Sonoma and with the proceeds have bought a flat in London a 12 minute walk from the kids. I'm writing to you from there. It's a lovely space with a wonderful, warm vibe to it. I get happy every time I walk in the door. It's an 1890 building so we may not have quite the daily maintenance required of a sailor like yourself but there's always going to be things to do -- and certainly a fair amount now that we're settling in. (We took occupancy on Janet's birthday 1.27)
    We want you to know there's a guest room -- as well as a WWII air raid shelter in the garden! So if you ever find yourself on this side of the pond, know that you have a place to stay. Be well, my friend. David and Janet and Scout!