Life With Glee

IT’S HEINEKEN REGATTA week here in Sint Maarten. Yachts from around the world congregate to race around the island in the day and party and rub shoulders with the sailing elite in the evening. Me? I’ll be hunkered down in Glee ignoring it as much as possible in my quiet corner of the lagoon imagining my own impending future. I guess my reasons for sailing are different from the mainstream; to live as free as possible from bureaucratic interference.

I’ve been here 2 weeks and 2 days now but it feels like I’ve been here at least three times that. I know my way around the Lagoon area pretty well now and have got to know a few local liveaboarders. Glee is already kitted out as a liveaboard and, if I was happy with that, then all would be well as it stands. Adventure calls so some work needs to be done. For Glee, I’ve started on my Project Matrix: a handy tool for getting things done in Don Casey’s book “This Old Boat.” You can use this to prioritise almost any project so take note:

The Matrix

• Get a large sheet of paper and split it into 3 columns and 3 rows.
• Label the columns from left to right: 1, Immediate. 2, Less Urgent . 3, Someday.
• Label the Rows from top to bottom: A, Structure. B, Feature. C, Finish.

You should end up with a matrix of 9 squares. The order of execution goes from A1 as items to be done first followed by B1 and C1, then up to A2, B2 etc. ending in C3. From this, you can see what jobs are out of order. It makes no sense for redesigning Galley to follow replace counter-tops. Most importantly for me, it chops up the work into small prioritised chunks so the overwhelm of thinking of everything at once doesn’t stop me from taking action altogether, and I get a real sense of progress by checking off each task. So as soon as A1 and B1 are complete, I can head out of the lagoon and continue as I go.

Sure it took a few days to get the pencil and paper out but what’s the rush? I’m still living on a boat in the Caribbean and that’s not too bad. I get the impression that the slower I go, the less money I spend and I get this dilemma between living rent-free in the lagoon and funding cruising further afield.  Everything has a cost: tools and equipment for getting shipshape, check in fees at other islands, wear and tear, repairs, commerce geared up for the wealthy yacht set…

The other night I was talking to an Irish skipper over too many Irish coffees on his Catamaran and he said “Don’t get stuck in the lagoon refitting your boat. Get out there over to Anguilla and around the Islands while you do it. My brother and I took our first boat from Plymouth to Southern Ireland and we hadn’t sailed before…”  although he had been out in fishing boats. I take heart from those that have had less experience than me and think, “Well, if they can do it, so can I…” The other trick is to turn a deaf ear to the criticisers in the bars. “Take what you like but leave the rest” as they say…

It’s just too easy to sit back in the tropical scenery and let life drift away; no different to being in a ‘comfortable’ job back home. We can easily get sedated by comfort and we are not meant to find comfort as a destination, we are meant to grow.

Last year I had severely decluttered and moved out of my flat and into my van. For the cold, damp, British winter, the plan was to hop over Texas visit my Dad and return in the Spring to take the van down to Portugal before the next Winter and maybe help with some organic farming along the way. I’d expect some travel costs but not as much as for updating a yacht. I get the sense that my downsizing and economising has regressed from that path, so there is a real temptation now to just sit back in the sun on deck with a book and a beer, rather than trekking around Ace Hardware for wire brushes, electric cable, cordless drills and rust preventer at island prices.

Sure, the van to Portugal was the easier and cheaper option but Glee seems far more adventurous despite the work that needs doing. It’s like I outgrew my shoes faster than expected, and it’s time to take bigger steps.

Anyway, time for a beer before the sun goes down and the crickets start singing over on the shore…

Cheers!

A BOAT IS never finished. As you complete one item another one or two crop up while you’ve been busy. It’s a way of life that you have to come to terms with; deal with the priorities.

The head (toilet) didn’t flush water through so I dismantle the pump and removed the pipes. Finally, expecting a surge of water, I opened the seacock: nothing. I should have got a miniature fountain as the sea tries to reclaim its space invaded by Glee’s hull.

Into the water and under the hull I go. It’s like a lawn under there; sea life colonising Glee’s underside. I can’t see anything clearly without goggles but if I stretch my arm under and feel for the inlet then my face remains above water. After finding the sewage outlet, I can locate the water inlet as a faint depression. Poking at it with a screwdriver clears it. I now have a flushing head. My body starts to itch on the side that made contact with the hull and a red rash appears. Whatever microscopic sea-creatures live down there, they are not friendly. Bicarbonate of soda relieved the itching and I was pleased that one task was done.

Next was the throttle lever, which refused to move. A blast of WD40 and a wiggle not only cured the seizure but also evicted a family of cockroaches from the housing. Cockroaches keep making surprise appearances and their ‘re-housing’ has made the task list. If there was a recipe for them, they could probably sustain me on an ocean crossing. but no, they have to go.

I awake before the sun clears the eastern hills, my face is stiff and I can see my own cheeks in my itchy peripheral vision. My whole body looks like it has sunburn, only more as red specks on a white background like an Andy Warhol impression than the usual uniform lobster pink. It could be one of two things: the chemical weapons of RAID and POB used in my war on cockroaches last night, or a reaction to contact with Glee’s undersea colony. I decide the latter and then got dressed. Pretty soon gravity helps me out and drains the swelling of my face and I actually looked 5 years younger; who needs botox and a sunbed?

I pump some air into my leaky dinghy, examine the couple of cupfuls of fuel left in the tank, pull the starter cord on the little Nissan outboard and head north across the lagoon to Marigot.

Marigot is only a couple of miles from the Dutch side of Simpson Bay, but is a different country with a different language: France, to be frank. And, apparently qualifies Telecom services to apply roaming cell phone charges for services within sight of my sim card’s origin.

I buzz across the lagoon and refuel the outboard before tying up the dinghy at a fishing boat inlet, step over the basking Iguanas on the dock and flip flop off into town with an underlying and unexpected feeling of emptiness and a lacking in joy: Glee-less, if that’s a word.

Table for one at La Main A La Pate didn’t do much for me apart from keeping the hunger shakes away and lightening my wallet. Table for one is pretty much the same anywhere you go. Today is picture postcard perfect and I feel it should be fun but it doesn’t register that way. There’s a thought in my head tapping away like a woodpecker that ‘I don’t belong.’ I’m a maverick wayfarer wandering through someone else’s party. I tell the woodpecker to shut up.

I make my way to Fort Louis up on the hill. Looking south over Marigot and over the lagoon to Mount Fortune, affectionately known as ‘The Witch’s Tit,’ where Glee rests peacefully in her mooring, In contrast, I feel restless and adrift. I may be in the midst of an adventure but lifelong thoughts of uncertainty and doubt orbit my mind.

Arriving anywhere is never as I expect. The location is beautiful but my unchecked thinking as yet fails to give it meaning.

Wherever you go, there you are… like going on vacation, your baggage goes with you.

Defining and pondering the roots of these sensations is uncommon, sometimes difficult but often rewarding.

First thought:Loneliness: companionship might be a welcome distraction and the shared experience might feel more fulfilling but for how long?  No, I’m not really lonely.

Next thought: Selfishness: what am I actually doing for my friends and family – what can I do from here?  Selfishness is a judgement – it’s too early to judge; any guilty feelings are unwarranted.

Contribution: how am I contributing to anyone at all? So far, there is solitude and boat maintenance. Again, too early to tell.   Contribution follows purpose.

Purpose: what makes life meaningful here and how do I go about creating and sustaining myself within it? When a seed is planted, nothing comes of it until roots emerge, leaves sprout and its fruit emerges. The seed doesn’t worry about it, it just does it – we are all nature; we all grow at our own pace.

Nothing is either good or bad, only thinking makes it so!  … and thoughts are only thoughts, only having the meaning we give to them.

I remind myself that there is no rush, relax, settle in and take my time. Water the garden of the mind and see what sprouts tomorrow…

AS I SIT gazing through the east-facing window of Terminal A of San Juan International Airport, Puerto Rico, yawning at the sun lifting itself above the tropical palm trees on the skyline, bracing myself against the icy breeze of the over-enthusiastic air-conditioning, I feel in-between things – in no man’s land.  What if I’m out of my depth. Should I have made a smaller step rather than jump, both feet into the Caribbean yacht world? The runaway train of automatic thinking had broken loose from its couplings and I remind myself to let them go and return to awareness in the present moment.

8 hours is a pretty long wait for a connecting flight but some sleep here, a bit of a read of Hunter S Thompson’s Rum Diary there, and a wander over to the window opposite as the sun slides overhead towards the western horizon and the day quietly passes punctuated by safety and security announcements threatening to destroy my possessions.

After a 2 hour delay, announced in 4 irritating bite-sized 30-minute segments, not knowing how many of those there would be, the final leg to Sint Maarten was underway.

The aircraft window framed briefly the famous Princess Juliana international airport where the planes skim the beach to land at Sint Maarten. The sun was sizzling on the horizon as I started walking along the airport road towards Sint Maarten Yacht Club. Sint Maarten is a small island, how far could it be? It was dark by the time I had arrived at the yacht club and I recognised Elaine from her social media photos. After brief introductions over a small Heineken we were skimming the water in a 9.8hp dinghy to Glee’s mooring on the French side of the lagoon. A quick tour of the boat and a return jaunt to get Elaine back to shore and I was skimming back alone through the anchorage and under the causeway hoping I was following the same waypoints back to Glee.

I was here; 22 hours since taking off from Houston Intercontinental. What if I’m out of my depth? Should I have made a smaller step… and with the thoughts rattling away out of tune with the wind in the rigging and the water lapping at the hull, I fell asleep in the dusky damp Caribbean humidity and the aroma of ancient sailboat filling my nostrils.

Morning: Wednesday 17th February 2016

This must be how amnesiacs awaken, I half expected to be back home in the UK but I had a vague idea of where I was and I recognised some of these things on the boat but the unfamiliarity with so much all at once was disturbing and hardly believable. New to sailing. Seriously sailing, not just pottering about on the Solent or RYA courses, I knew no-one here. This was home now – almost too much to deal with at once. A kind of ‘Robinson Crusoe’ moment. I’d have to readjust to my surroundings.

“Just a matter of time is all it is, relax, settle in… I could always sell up and go back to… where? No rush, I have time… and the thoughts recede as I step out on deck and admire the tropical sunrise across the lagoon. I have realised a dream and ticked off a major goal. What now?….

I needed a new plan… no rush, settle in first, I have time…

I  SHOULD FEEL excited but it feels like another day but with a bigger to-do list…

The excitement came a few weeks ago when the dream scrolled into view on a Facebook feed called ‘Liveaboard Sailboat’ on my Dad’s PC: a sailboat named Glee up for grabs in the Caribbean.

Butterflies in the stomach had me lean forward and focus in a bit closer. I had the funds but would I have the nerve? This has been on my bucket list ever since I ever heard about bucket lists in my ‘battery farm’ type office job about 10 years ago. Luckily, I had a window that I could look out of and dream myself out of it beyond the car park boundary.

The moment had come and I hadn’t actively been looking for it.

Chasing a Dream

I’d committed to spending a couple of Months at my Dad’s in Houston Texas and now I am at Houston Intercontinental Airport waiting for the flight to Puerto Rico and Sint Maarten to take me to a new adventure. Living on a sailboat in the Caribbean.

I was convinced people would say I was nuts but that didn’t bother me… much. What bothered me most was cutting my family visit short but it couldn’t be helped, and I could always return later.

In fact, most people I spoke to were actually envious and supportive.

After plucking up the courage to force my index finger down on the mouse button, the rest was easy. I had a loose idea of how I wanted to live ever since 2009 when I found out about the fraudulent way money is created off the back of loans and mortgages. I didn’t want to be a part of this system anymore…

Steps into Uncertainty…

Step 1: Clear the crippling debt left by the career-killing credit crunch that left me without an income. Solution? I challenged and stopped paying the legally unverifiable debt.

Step 2: Clear the mortgage liability on a house. a house that I didn’t even want to live in anymore. Solution? I stopped paying the mortgage.

Step 3: Declutter. Solution? Sold, recycled, donated and stored the museum of artefacts that tend to drag along through one’s personal history. This is still an ongoing process.

Step 4: find alternative accommodation. Solution? Purchase 15-year-old van fitted out as a stealth camper and adapt to a nomadic lifestyle, living off grid.

Therefore, this is why this latest move was easy for me. I had little to lose.  I am unencumbered by the financial ball and chain that modern life attaches to each of us. Without having made those first steps, I would have to weigh up the idea of living on a boat in the Caribbean against having a home, family, work and that whole social bubble we all build for ourselves. That’s a big stake in the game of life. Unless you’re pressed against the buffers of western civilization and see first hand how far the decks are now stacked against you, you either fight for your slavery or fight against it; you can’t ignore it.

I’m no longer being played as one of society’s pawns, tomorrow I’ll be living on a boat named Glee in the February Sun… I have little idea of what’s going to happen next but that’s one of the joys of freedom – you don’t need to know further than the next step… the only guarantee we have in life is uncertainty. Learning to embrace it will help set you free.

More in a day or two. I have a plane to catch!