I watched the portlight at the end of my bed start to glow with sunlight. The sight of it rousted my senses, so I immediately got up and started the coffee pot. Settled into the cockpit with hot Joe, I watched the sunrise over the harbor. I love this time of day. It’s really quiet, there is no boating traffic yet, the wife is snug in bed with that funny little snore of hers and all is right with the world, as the view of the palm trees turns from silhouettes to their full color.
The season has started in earnest here and the harbor is nearly full already. The view makes me laugh at myself. Many people idolize my lifestyle, and don’t get me wrong, I do too. But perceptions are funny things. Looking around, what I actually see, if I had to be honest, is a fiberglass trailer court or RV park. As the day wears on there will be more traffic and the constant rumbling noise of generators until well after dark. Instead of cars in the driveway, we have dinghies tied up alongside our fiberglass home. The only real distinction here is the constant, vigilant practice of seamanship. Wind shifts, weather changes and tide and current awareness keep us on our toes. From time to time the entire harbor will go from peaceful paradise to wet and exciting in a single puff of wind.
I like being anchored or on a mooring at the edge of a harbor for the simple reason that I can turn my back to the crowd and pretend they are not there. This morning is no exception. Turning my back and enjoying the sunrise over the uninhabited mangroves gives me the perception of having the whole place to myself.
I don’t have any hermitic penchants, but I don’t travel by boat to be with the other boaters either. Interfacing with other cruisers is integral for several reasons, not the least of which is that we often have to rely on each other, and many of them provide valuable information for future destinations. But I want to see new lands, new cultures and new foods and add to my awareness some things that I was unaware of beforehand. Paradise is in the perception of what you are trying to perceive. For me, that means I can find paradise in any harbor.
Truly secluded harbors — the ones where you can be naked topside and while swimming, the ones where you can drift fish in the dinghy all day and never see another boat — these harbors are becoming extinct. These gems really do still exist, but GPS is making them harder to find. So, my perceptions have had to be adjusted along the way.
I know better than to begrudge the change. I know how to embrace it to preserve my place in paradise. So get off the dock and meet me out here. Bring beer and some ice if you have a way to keep it cold.
Capt’n Mike
www.Whensday.us
