It’s nearly two in the morning and I’m rowing my dinghy around the marina back to my boat. I round the corner of B dock and the sheer line of my little vessel is illuminated from the soft lantern light coming through the port. The sound of laughter is coming through the hatch.
This is my little house, I think to myself. She’s floats.
My two friends and a dog are inside. They’re cooking chicken and laughing about the French guy on the boat a few slips down that ran out in his speedo to help us dock the boat after we went for a sunset sail. He invited us over for drinks and put out a spread of every cocktail imaginable and high end cheese. With ice clinking in my glass I’m reminded of why I love this lifestyle. The people.
When the yard manager and his crew knocked on the hull at 9 AM on Friday morning and said, “You ready, Captain?” all the work from the last four weeks, all the uncertainties, and lonely nights in the boatyard, the hours of frustration and fears, the storms that bellowed through, the long days filled with little food floated away with the gentle four knot breeze.
And as my nearly two ton boat was lifted into the air, my motley crew surrounding me, I stared in wonder at this piece of fiberglass, metal and wood that has already taken me on a great adventure.
To all the people who have lent me a hand, a buck, or a word of advice–I couldn’t have done it without you.
“Happiness only real when shared.” -Alexander Supertramp
She floats! Congrats!
Thanks Jen Jen <3
You go, girl!
Thanks, dude! It’s a little surreal.
Congratulations. You ever make it down Atlantic City way, I would love to see your little home.
I plan to make it there en route South so yes, for sure!
That’s one small splash for the Bristol 24, one giant leap for my favorite raconteur.
Thanks Mick Dog, you were there in spirit.
In the water! Yes!!