My wife and I arrived in Key West on Valentine's Day 2000. We left San Francisco on our Gemini catamaran in August 1998 and when we arrived we had plans to move on. I had lived previously in Key West and ever since my first visit in 1981 I had determined I wanted to see more of the world before I could live on a small speck at the end of the road. That we settled in Key West and found a measure of happiness here was in spite of, rather than any plans we had made.
When I stand on the beach and watch the kids run in and out in their dinghies all self sufficient and boaty I know they look right through me, the boring old fart standing on shore being a commuter drone on vacation with camera in hand, while they are living the life of high adventure at sea. Part of aging is role reversal. And sometimes friends who know our past ask if we miss sailing. Yes and No like so much else in life.
We both agree that we are very glad we sailed San Francisco Bay and spent weekends with our dogs exploring the bay and the city for years, commuting weekends from our home in Santa Cruz. Those windy days on the water and unsupervised anchorages in odd corners of the bay taught us how to cruise much more than we ever realized until we were thousands of miles from home relying on our own anchors and our own intuition. We traveled with far fewer electronics than our neighbors but we never missed the radar and we always appreciated our instincts.
The fact is that to every desire in life there is a season and perhaps my season for sailing isn't gone completely, and I have been casting envious thoughts of sailing the Exumas in the Bahamas. They are close to home, the waters are fantastic and you can sail off the anchor, cruise half a day in protected waters and anchor for a swim in the afternoon without ever turning the engine on. We did that nine years ago before we essentially quit sailing and turned to rebuilding our battered family economy. I think I'd like to do a Bahama charter before too much more of my life passes: rent a boat, sail, give it back and fly home. Too easy.
When I stand on the beach and watch the kids run in and out in their dinghies all self sufficient and boaty I know they look right through me, the boring old fart standing on shore being a commuter drone on vacation with camera in hand, while they are living the life of high adventure at sea. Part of aging is role reversal. And sometimes friends who know our past ask if we miss sailing. Yes and No like so much else in life.
We both agree that we are very glad we sailed San Francisco Bay and spent weekends with our dogs exploring the bay and the city for years, commuting weekends from our home in Santa Cruz. Those windy days on the water and unsupervised anchorages in odd corners of the bay taught us how to cruise much more than we ever realized until we were thousands of miles from home relying on our own anchors and our own intuition. We traveled with far fewer electronics than our neighbors but we never missed the radar and we always appreciated our instincts.The fact is that to every desire in life there is a season and perhaps my season for sailing isn't gone completely, and I have been casting envious thoughts of sailing the Exumas in the Bahamas. They are close to home, the waters are fantastic and you can sail off the anchor, cruise half a day in protected waters and anchor for a swim in the afternoon without ever turning the engine on. We did that nine years ago before we essentially quit sailing and turned to rebuilding our battered family economy. I think I'd like to do a Bahama charter before too much more of my life passes: rent a boat, sail, give it back and fly home. Too easy. I spend a fair bit of time thinking how lucky I have been. We chose the right time to take off, the economy was booming and re-entry jobs were easy to find. We got work in Key west when reliable employees were much sought after and now that the economy has tanked we appreciate every day living in this funny little town doing what we enjoy and reliving from time to time the memories of adventures in places most people around us have never even heard of. It's the memories that will keep the youngsters going when they too have to move back ashore and do all the tedious things that need to be done to grow old gracefully and with no regrets.
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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,and having perhaps the better claim because it was grassy and wanted wear;though as for that, the passing therehad worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay in leaves no feet had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference
-Robert Frost.
Poetically well articulated.
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