Balancing Boat Work with Pleasure

Not going to lie. It feels like we’ve been rushing to do almost anything since we left Vermont in September. Even that glorious 2.5 month interlude, when we look back on it? The lofty plans we made to visit friends in Maine, check out a few breweries in a state known for their beer? Those stayed firmly on the “in the future” list. How many “next times” will there be?

*Peace from the OPO. Still time escaped us.*

Since then, though, it’s been push push push. Push to get the boat in the water and get Mischief ready to be left. Push to get to Annapolis. Push to get south. Push to get to the Bahamas, then push to get to Panama. Push through the San Blas, push to haul the boat out. Push to drive over 4000 miles in the 2 weeks we were home. And now that we’re back on board Calypso, it’s a push to get the bottom job done so we can splash, greet the kids, and go through the canal on January 26.

At the same time, somehow, or maybe especially in the last 3 weeks, it feels more like we’ve been on vacation. Well, maybe more in terms of spending money with deep abandon on things we normally stay away from. Rental cars. Restaurants. (OMG the restaurant eating. Holy budget destroyer.) Flights. Taxis and museums. Choosing the easy route that costs more money (see restaurant comment).

We’re finding ourselves deep in the cycle of “when we get xxx done we’ll finally be cruising”, even though we know full well we ARE cruising. Yeah. The rushing, the money bleed, the visit home, the haul out and associated work? That’s all cruising life.

*Saying goodbye in the snow in Middlebury!*

But the slowing down and savoring. That’s all part of cruising life too, all worked around weather. Is slow a matter of perspective? Is slow seen in the evenings spent laughing with new friends on one boat or the other, even when the cockpit we’re in has been accessed via a ladder? Is slow seen in the mad race to drive an hour to pick up Julian and Jules from the metro station so we can have dinner together (see that restaurant comment hah) the night before we fly back to Panama? Or the o’dark 30 alarm set so we can drive into NYC to catch a quick glimpse of Bee, deliver a longed-for art desk, and even experience their favorite diner for breakfast (see that restaurant comment, again)?

Is the slow and savoring somehow associated with the rush?

*Cockpit hangout with new friends from SV Elza in George Town.*

I think sometimes I need to remind myself that this life, as with a more land-focused one, is one of seasons, short as they may be. This is apparently our season of pushing.

*Moon over Baltimore, on our way back to Calypso in Panama.*

To take this idea a bit rabbit-hole-ish, I’ll compare it to winter in Virginia. A season, for sure. One that comes around with some regularity, though exactly when and for how long is up to the whim of Mother Nature (I’m so sorry, daffodils that have popped up early thinking this year is when winter is staying away). What we loved and appreciated about Virginia’s version of winter was just how fleeting it was on a daily basis. Days of 65 or 70, full sun, followed immediately (or even by 6 pm) by 25 degrees and sleeting or dumping inches of snow. Followed in the next couple of days by that teasing warmth again. Sure, it might go ON into April (don’t put away the parka just yet), but at least there’s reprieve in doses along the way.

*Stealing a kiss in front of my grandmother’s old house, where we got married <3*

Just like Virginia winter, our season here of pushing to BE DO ARRIVE LEAVE will, unfortunately, reappear with some regularity. Along the way, if we pay attention, we can find the slowness we crave. At least in small, short, chunks.