Loomings
"Call me Ishmael...."
Like Ishmael, having nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would also sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
After leaving Vancouver we sailed for 36 hours through straits of gun metal blue and gray. I prowled the deck on the aft of the boat hurrying from side to side in order to not miss a thing. After breakfast on the first morn I spied this lovely little scene nestled on a small hump of land. Behind the quaint buildings heavily forested mountains, as big and lonely as a forgotten widow, spilled away from the shore. The air was moist and salty and I thought it would be lovely to be a simple sailor spending my days being pushed along by a soft wind on a mirror-like sea. But like the inhabitants of this water world I was soon to learn that expectations are the dreams of a fool.
Somewhere on the Inner Passage, Alaska
Loomings
"Call me Ishmael...."
Like Ishmael, having nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would also sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
After leaving Vancouver we sailed for 36 hours through straits of gun metal blue and gray. I prowled the deck on the aft of the boat hurrying from side to side in order to not miss a thing. After breakfast on the first morn I spied this lovely little scene nestled on a small hump of land. Behind the quaint buildings heavily forested mountains, as big and lonely as a forgotten widow, spilled away from the shore. The air was moist and salty and I thought it would be lovely to be a simple sailor spending my days being pushed along by a soft wind on a mirror-like sea. But like the inhabitants of this water world I was soon to learn that expectations are the dreams of a fool.
Somewhere on the Inner Passage, Alaska