Lisa is hopeless. And so, by the way, am I.
Lisa,
by the way, is hopeless. Don’t get me wrong, she has some great qualities, she
is an excellent cook and likes to clean and would never ever question Sven’s
judgement or statements. (I do. If he does/says something that I am sure is
wrong I correct him and always he is pleased to have had his error pointed out,
like this morning when I pointed out that the waypoint he had set was for a
different island than the one we are intending to get to!) But Lisa has been on
Dana for TWO years now and still knows NOTHING. Sven asked her to teach me how
to put the preventers away. She got it wrong and he had to re-teach me. He
asked her to show me how to raise the anchor. Same thing. When she is “on
watch” she sits in the captain’s chair – which she loves to do, reminds me very
much of a lovely co-op student Catherine had once – but Sven looks after the
course and the sails, or gets me to do it, something I was quite embarrassed
about the first time or two but which doesn’t seem to faze her. And, she can’t
even read the nav instruments correctly! Today she was on watch and Sven asked
what the course over ground was and she gave one number, which was wrong, and
because I could see the instruments from where I was sitting, I, instinctively,
without thinking, gave the correct answer, and she got upset and said I was
wrong and Sven came over and taught her that COG stands for course over ground.
Really? After two years she doesn’t even know this? Their relationship baffles
me.
And
this, all this rambling, it is all about, really, not her, but me, and the
question of what I want to do with the rest of my life. Do I want to hike alone
with the freedom but loneliness that that entails? Sail as crew with the exotic
destinations but with random people and their foibles that that entails? Try to
put my marriage back together, yet again, to have a permanent partner to do
things with? Do I want to work forever keeping the security of an income, and,
eventually a pension? Or quit my job completely and live the life of a
vagabond? I just don’t know. Lisa is happy where she is, intends to remain here
forever, but me, I don’t think this exact life is for me.The grass frequently
seems greener on the other side of the fence to me. I often feel that were I to
jump over into the greenest field possible and then look back over my shoulder
I would find that the one I had just rejected was greener still. But, for now,
for this spring and summer, there is no doubt whatsoever that I am exactly where
I want to be – not necessarily who I want to be with - but where I want to be.
For
now, that will have to do.
And
soon, very soon, I will make a life plan. (Yeah right!).
Anchored
at Pitcairn Island, waiting for the swells to settle so we can go and visit
land, I spend most of the day working with Sven fixing the second reefing line.
I had noticed at some point during the last leg that it was sorely in need of a
stitch in time and when we pulled it out we saw this was very much true and so the
two of us spent most of the day fixing it. Lisa spent the day indoors doing
data entry putting old logs onto the computer but I was out in the sun, on the
foredeck, with Sven, and had a wonderful little conversation with him along the
way about life. He asked about my job and my marriage and I, after having given
candid answers, asked if what he had was enough, his boat and the freedom to
travel anywhere and his family back home and he admitted that it was not. “I am
not happy,” he said. And he went on to explain that he would really like to
have a partner, intellectual stimulation, permanence and commitment, but that
he does not. He has a $3 million dollar boat but is stuck with Lisa and I (my
words not his). Man. I guess whoever said that money can’t buy happiness is
right after all. But it does buy freedom. Is that enough? According to Sven,
No. Hmmm. If he, who is brilliant and had such a very successful business life,
cannot get retirement right what hope is there for me?
On the other hand, on
the small scale, it was a perfect day. I, ironically, was totally happy. Sitting
in the sun, stitching meter after meter of black and yellow line with bright
red highly waxed thread, while the huge swells, deep blue and turquoise and
white, crashed into the black volcanic rocks beneath the rust coloured cliffs
beneath the multi-green palm covered hills of such an exotic island, my life
was, for today at least, perfect. I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing
exactly what I wanted to be doing, and, if I was not with exactly whom I wanted
to be with, well, then that was a compromise that I was willing, today at any
rate, to accept. We finish the line about 5, sit altogether out in the cockpit
having a drink, and then retire to the pilot house to read or relax.
Yes. It is
not all bad. That is for sure!
