Life on the river is basic and beautiful. There are many boat projects that must be done. Other projects will make the trip more comfortable and get done if there's time. Some are cumbersome and tedious; others require long stares and quiet thinking to accomplish. In the morning, we have coffee and breakfast, and review our list. Each day is a good mix of technical brain work and physical work with our hands and backs. Most days are long with a late dinner and a slow evening fade into the sleep of the dead. Along with the work, we laugh and discuss the Vagabond Anarchist Sea Life. The next morning we wake and start again. Each day the voyage is closer and the boat is safer.
I steal some moments of my own too. When the first sun bursts over the hills across the river, it streams into the cabin waking me softly. I quietly stow the companionway boards and climb into the cool, soft glow of the dawning. The marina is quiet and the river is flat as a mirror. Pilings and docks hover over their reflections. The ducks are sleeping and the geese are quiet. Ashore a pair of deer are munching on grasses in an empty lot. They all seem to appreciate the stillness as much as I. The early clouds reflect so perfectly around the pier it seems that I am walking across the sky.
When I remember to emulate the stillness of the world around me, its as if a membrane is relaxed. The cool morning seeps into me and I begin to bleed into the world blurring the boundary. I can feel enormous and minuscule all at once; a sublime emptiness.
We are not sailing yet. Our projects are nearly complete, but the head sail will be in the sail loft most of the week. The voyage will not likely begin until Saturday or Sunday, May Second or Third. The captain and I are a good team. With quiet determination, we are getting s/v Eleanor ready for the trip home.
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