Well, I should have been in Crookhaven, or beyond, by now. But this is still my view. At least when it is sunny.
After a few weeks ashore my plan was to return to Laughing Gull and start sailing west. I wasn’t sure how long or how far I would poke my way up the left coast of Ireland. But I was ready to get back aboard a sailboat, be a sailor again, and float around. With some pretty nice weather forecast, I was looking forward to it.
Not so fast, bro. As Mike Tyson said: “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” My facepunch consisted of a flu-ey feeling a week ago Sunday evening, and a Monday morning positive COVID test. The gods, apparently, decided my months-long run of good weather and cruising luck had stretched out long enough. Oh well. I guess you can’t escape our vaccine-resistant, pandemic-friendly, messed-up, human world forever. Living at sea has its benefits.
A week later, I feel fine and am exiting COVID lockdown. Unfortunately, it appears I may have missed the good weather window. Starting late this week, there is a parade of storms and low pressure systems, including former-hurricane Erin, that will rake the southwest coast of Ireland between now and the end of August. I can’t really complain. The summer weather since I arrived in early July has been at the spectacular end of the spectrum, thanks to a persistent zone of high pressure sitting just south of Ireland. That block has now weakened, so cue the storms.
If there is anything I have learned over the past three years, it is that patience—when you have time—is usually rewarded. So instead of insisting on pushing Laughing Gull out to the west coast, and then spending time seeking out shelter and safe harbor as storms arrive every few days, I am pausing and waiting. I have another day or two to see which direction the forecast finally trends. If the spicy version holds up, perhaps I’ll tuck LG away safely at Castlepark Marina in Kinsale for a few weeks, and then enjoy the experience of being under a solid roof, with no anchor watch, as rain and wind lash the area and provide a long-overdue drenching. September is often a beautiful month. A September cruise may just turn out to be the winning answer.
Sooner or later, I’ll be back out there, and hopefully getting lots of this:
Still, if my shore life is prolonged, I can cycle, run, and get organized for the winter. Lots to do in and around the house to fully settle in. It will also be a good time to think about how to transfer a minimalist and commune-curious lifestyle ashore. I have some ideas. Stay tuned.
A fascinating marine detective story…and a reminder that everything is connected (and that climate change will disrupt lots of ecosystems):
I’m here because this team believes it has unraveled a monumental mystery. In 2013, sea stars began dying along North America’s West Coast, victims of a plague known as sea star wasting disease. The condition first surfaced in the Pacific Northwest, where scientists and scuba divers noticed sea star arms flexing and corkscrewing in tight spirals before tearing off and shimmying away like dancers in some macabre ballet. Grisly lesions, white and splotchy, spread like gangrene across their surfaces. Internal organs seeped from open wounds. Bodies would bloat and then deflate, the muscles dissolving in soupy puddles that left behind flattened sheaths of flesh. These, too, eventually decayed until all that remained were ghostly silhouettes, a sickly residue on the seafloor.
One great way to to fight the Trump climate bomb is…with rooftop solar. So why are so many US states making it so hard?
If you could easily get a permit to install a low-cost machine that could save you money, and, oh yes, also help ward off the civilizational challenge that is climate change, you might start thinking a little differently about government. Forget YIMBYs for a moment—we’re talking YOMRs. You’ve got a right to the sunshine that falls on your home, whether you’re a renter with a balcony or a homeowner. Free the electron! We’re used to thinking of roofs as protection from rain—but the sun can also provide a shower of dollars and cents, and some bureaucrat shouldn’t force you to stay at the mercy of Big Utility. Why should the Chinese and the Australians and the Germans get access to the sun while you’re denied it? I mean, what the hell—we’re bathed in free energy every daylight hour and we need a bunch of permits to use it? What’s American about that?
Why are you picking on me? What did I do? You can’t make it up: there is a US Senate bill to investigate the “problem” of sharks eating fish (caught by recreational fishermen). But you can satirize it:
The sharks are eating the fish.
Too many fish.
Our damn fish.
For 450 million years, the sharks have had everything their way, swimming around the ocean like they own the place, chowing down on that endless seafood buffet.
Who do those sharks think they are? Other than, like, sharks.
We celebrate George Washington and Abraham Lincoln one lousy day a year.
Sharks get a whole week.
No más. Florida Republican U.S. Sen. Rick Scott means to show these arrogant top predators he means business. Sen. Scott’s elegantly named and creatively capitalized “Supporting the Health of Aquatic systems through Research, Knowledge, and Enhanced Dialogue (or SHARKED) Act will address bad behavior in the shark community.
No longer will the sharks be allowed to appropriate fish for their own selfish nutritional ends.
Someday we’ll live on a planet where every natural dynamic and system isn’t corrupted or devalued in relentless obeisance to the Great God of Profit.
If you liked this post from Sailing Into The Anthropocene, why not subscribe here (free!), and/or hit the share button below? You can also find me on Instagram and BlueSky. (You can find me, but I have discovered life is better without social media).
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.