(featured image courtesy of https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1283483)
A few weeks ago I happened to be out on the dock talking to one of the dock neighbors. I don’t recall what we were talking about. As we were standing there, I sensed someone coming down the dock with a dock cart. I slid over to make room for the cart to pass and continued talking.
A few minutes later the guy with the dock cart came back and I again moved so that he could pass. I wasn’t really paying notice to who was manning the cart. My attention was on the conversation.
“Clint?”
I turned and looked at the man with the dock cart.
“Clint right?” he said with a gregarious smile.
It flashed instantly. I knew this man.
“I’m Sean.”
“Yeah! Yeah! I remember,” I said back with as much of a smile. “What the heck are you doing back here?”
“Fixing up the boat.”
I’ve yet to me a sailor that wasn’t fixing up, or just plain fixing, his/her boat.
We talked for a few before he had to trundle off with the cart. He had left Blue Dolphin a few months before we had roughly 2 years ago. Odd that we both came back right about the same time.
As the days passed, we talked off and on as we saw each other out doing work on our boats. He was back to do more work on his to take her to Rio Dulce in Guatemala. He had some crew coming to help him with the transit. I was back to do more on mine to sell her. He had 30 days to complete some projects before he left on May 1. I had all the time until someone decides to purchase ours.
This past weekend was beautiful and there were quite a few people out working. Sean and I were no exceptions. His project list was like mine when we first purchased Emet: daunting. So many things to get done and the pace is dizzying, but as methodical as warranted by the gravity of the projects.
Nothing on a boat happens fast. Never expect any project, however small it may appear, to take less than a solid hour. And never be surprised if that day project takes a whole week. Living on a boat for 4 years has, if nothing else, taught me patience and emotional temperance.
As Sean and I talked this weekend, it became clear that his crew was probably bailing on him and he was going to go solo. We talked about sailing and Moitessier. Oh, Moitessier. Apparently, it was Moitessier that got Sean into sailing. His parents had Moitessier’s books in their library and Sean read them.
“Parents should probably be careful about the books they have in their house,” he said laughingly.
I suddenly had this yearning to be out on the ocean.
The ocean is calling and I must go. — Me
“You know, Sean, I’m of half a mind to go with you to Guatemala,” I say.
“Are you serious?!?! I would love to have you aboard.”
“Hhhmmm…yeah….well…it was just a thought.”
We finish up the conversation and I head back over to Emet. “I’ll check flights from Guatemala back to Houston. Just to see,” I say to myself.
Around $200 to $250…that’s not much. Ok, it’s not super cheap, but it was about half of what I was expecting. I sit on it for a several minutes. Just letting all the options settle in.
“This is exactly why you sold your business, house, and pretty much everything: to be free,” I remind myself. “You are no longer tethered to anything or anyone except Jodi.”
So, I say to Jodi, “Sean said I could go to Guatemala with him. Return flight is around $250.”
“Go,” she responds.
“Well, I’d be gone around 3 to 4 weeks.”
“OK”
I check my passport. It’s good for another six months. I head back over to Sean’s boat.
“If you can postpone your departure until Monday May the 7th, I’m in.”
“Seriously?!?” he asks.
“Yep. The return flight isn’t that expensive and I can put in my notice at my job.”
“Welcome aboard!” he says.
So, in the course of basically one day, I was able to make a decision to head to Guatemala.
We leave May 7th. Weather permitting . . .
I suppose it wasn’t odd at all that we both came back at the same time.