Written by Captain G
These are reflections from a journal entry a few years ago during a complete catamaran sailboat rebuild:
This catamaran project has taken 24 months so far to date and has been chicken soup for my soul. Not the watered-down generic type, but the proper homemade style with hearty bits. Technically I had been homeless for over a year by my own design since I had sold my last sailboat in St Augustine, Florida. I was sleeping in everything from fancy hotels, my truck, friends’ spare rooms, and even under a bridge once to see what it was like. I knew my next boat would be a catamaran, and I searched until the right one came along, and it did. I was on the beach in Bora Bora, French Polynesia, when I received the email stating that my offer was accepted.
Rebuilding a damaged vessel is, in a sense, building a relationship with yourself. There are options. Do you take the cheap and easy route on this project to finish fast? Or do you realize that you must pay now or pay later? The 20-year-old me would not have known where to start and abandoned the idea quickly to chase the nearest skirt. The 30-year-old me would have taken on the project to prove he could. And then there’s the 44-year-old me who has learned from his previous three sailboat rebuilds and slowed down to attempt to do it correctly. They say, “It’s not the destination; it’s the journey.”
Love
Webster’s dictionary says love is: warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion.
Can we choose what hobbies we love? Are we good at selecting the right ones for ourselves if we can? Do we decide on things that come from natural talent and are easy? Or something we are interested in but have to try really hard with the learning curve? I recently had dinner with a longtime Chef friend on a trip to Washington, DC. We chatted about why the deviled eggs on the appetizer menu only came in odd numbers. Where is the other half of the last egg?
During the meal, we noted that Captains and Chefs have a similar character. Both careers have people’s happiness and safety in their hands. Also, both professions can have a dark side that rears itself in high-stress situations. We like to think we are the most competent person on the ship or in the kitchen. We keep the tricks we’ve learned close to our vest and thrive on seeing the looks of enjoyment. Over the summer, I had a Hell’s Kitchen moment in what I perceived as a stressful maneuver. The look of disappointment from the crew and the immediate feeling in my heart will haunt me.
I travel; therefore, I am. I also like to eat, learn, build, and dance when I think no one is looking. However, this blog is about the journey. The journey of rebuilding an abandoned burnt-out catamaran, where this vessel takes me, and the connections made with the people along the way. At the two-year mark of this project, I ask myself:
Have I been building a better boat? Or have I been building a Better Person?
Aquatramp 