Little Steps
Plodding, well staggering ahead. Last week I drilled the rudders and ordered dyneema courage that will be used to lash these too the hull.
But its not been delivered yet? No, I'm still waiting. I do wonder if people are using the pandemic to go at a slower pace? Probably.
There has been progress in other areas of my fragile existences on this rapidly spinning, orbiting planet. My son had decided on taking on the responsibilities of paid work. Yay! Good for him, it's a major step forward for a young fellow happy to while away while days in his room, and opposing all encouragement for him to be active, civil or productive. I'd almost given up hope that he'd be my second parenting/ homeschooling success. But there you go.
Another benefit of him taking up work is that I could charge him rent, but more relevant to me going sailing ( and this blog), to live independently. With both children earning money and being able to support themselves, I can take time or for adventure. It's not here yet, but inside me is a little voice squeaking "yipee!". I'm only sharing it here because nobody (except the Russian boots) actually read my blog.
I'm in a good place though. I'm reading Howell's "Sailing Into Solitude" a Folkboat in the first trans Atlantic sail. I'm also reading "A Star to Steer Her By" by Ann Gash. An Australian woman that took up sailing in her fifties,bought a scruffy Stella-Folkboat and sailed from Australia around the world via England where she took part in a bamboo flute event. Dangerously I am falling in love (again or still?) with the Folkboat. I did own a fibreglass Folkboat when separating from my "wife" of 29 years, but had to sell it to seed my business.
Beyond that, both books which I've read multiple times, have been penned by sailors who took to sea modestly and purposefully. No fanfare or glamour, just simple scruffy little timber boats on long sea voyages.
"Lorema", a gratuitous photo of a recently refurbished (timber, engineless) Folkboat sailing across the Atlantic
