I'm still alive out here. constantly tormented by my urge to continue exploring this world. I have been thrown into the life I was seeking, that is, a simple one. Over two months have passed since the accident that claimed all but my life. Left with what possessions I could carry in a pack, and the heavy fines having emptied my wallet, I was reliant on the goodwill of others in matters of food and shelter. It wasn't long before my charisma and ingenuity provided me with the odd income, and more importantly, friends. Just a few days after leaving the hospital, still sore as hell, I find myself on a walkabout through the city. It was a Friday, specifically it was Gallery night. All of the bayfront and roads ten blocks north are roped off. Downtown becomes one massive party. Amongst the masses of drunken Floridians are a dozen bands, and several streets are covered with the tents of merchants and vendors. I was in no mood to join the crowds and decided to continue my hike north. I found myself in an old neighborhood of brick roads and Victorian homes that was familiar to me. There I came across a man by the name of Stark. He entertained me with good music, wine, and intelligent conversation. This continued for a few days. I was happy to have made a friend that shared my interest. Specifically, we constantly talked of sailing. The sole reason I had returned to Florida was to acquire a sailboat. We made plans to sail his boat which had to be moved from where it was docked in a canal on the sound side of Gulf Breeze.
The next day we drove out to where the boat was docked. I took great interest in the small boat. It was a 1969 Cal 25 that had been modified with a raised cabin. At 6'4" I could stand upright within the boat. We motored out the canal and raised the sails. Finally, for the first time in 12 years or so, I was sailing. I took the helm and navigated us the length of the big island where we turned northward to cross the Escambia bay. Our goal being to set hook in Bayou Chico. As we crossed the bay, we were presented with a beautiful sunset and a spectacular display of dolphins leaping from the still frigid waters. We were making way with the sails wing to wing. The wind could not have been more perfect as I set point for the mouth of the bayou. We were about a mile out when night fell. The lights at the top of the high bridge that arched over bayou chico became my heading. With no power aboard the small craft, and the moon hidden by clouds, we had not but a small lantern to light up the cockpit. It couldn't have been more serene. All the anxiety and misery that had tormented me was long gone. All I had to think about was navigating the small craft through the dark narrow channel, with great chance of either grounding on the sandbar to my left, or smashing into the rocks to my right. Yet there was no stress, no worries. From hereon was convinced that I would spend most, if not all of my life, as a sailor. Forever seeking adventures and treasures on the shores of lands I had yet to encounter.
I have since resided within Bayou Chico. For a short while I stayed on the Cal which I had arrived on. I have since acquired a 1969 Newport 30. It is derelict, having been abandoned afer Hurricane Ivan in 2004. Sometimes I feel that I am also a wreck from Ivan. I laid claim to the vessel and have resided in my small yacht for a good while now. It needs more work than most would ever bother with. (It's a Ratsun) I am often commended for my bravery or spoken of as crazy for taking on such a project. Regardless of the condition, it is a roof over my head. It spent many years grounded on its starboard side. The evening I moved aboard it had 2 feet of rainwater in the floor and bayou mud caked to the ceiling. I spent the night on deck. The next day I was hard at work pumping out the water and removing the rotten cushions, fabrics, and piles of trash. Amongst the contents where a large collection of mid 90's computer hardware and software, pornography, sex toys, and three cases of MRE's. It took 4 days to make the cabin livable. There is still floors to be scrubbed and the quarter berth has yet to be touched. The mast is down, having been wreck in the storm, and is laid behind the guard rail on the starboard side. It will be raised as soon as I acquire new turnbuckles, shrouds, and rebuild the port bulkhead which seems to be have rigged in an emergency. I have original sails, that I will be able to patch up well enough to use. The deck is separating from the hull in several places and I will be re-mating them with stainless hardware and a tube of 5200. Below the cockpit is a Universal Atomic 4 paperweight that used to be an engine. I have plans of replacing it with a massive flywheel and a pulse driven motor. But that's just me dreaming. Besides making residence in the wreck, I have made friends in the area who have given me steady work as well as assistance. I may abandon my boat soon for I have been invited to be crew aboard a friends boat, the 1925 John Alden Schooner by name of Venus. As soon as it is back in the water we will be sailing to Miami and maybe on to the keys before venturing to Central America. I'm tired of typing and will be back someday to continue. I leave you with a picture of the Venus, for what is a thread without oics.
Peace be with you
-Dat guy