Hauling Out

I’ve been over the edge for a while, and wondering why. Did the math and realized that I left Kaua’i 15 months ago. Seems to be my limit, as I wrote a book about an earlier excursion, also 15 months. Crashed in Florida in 2018. Now I’ve crashed in Mazatlán. Too much time doing hard things while truck camping, Tiny House camping, then boat camping. Plus, why do I always end up in equatorial heat in the summer? Jesus.

So I booked an air-conditioned studio with a kitchenette, private bathroom, and double bed. Moved the essentials via Didi, which is the Méxican Lyft. Tried to have Habibi hauled out too, but it ain’t happen’ yet. I have pushed myself too far, so the universe is canceling appointments, refusing wi-fi, and encouraging bed rest. I crack open a novel and microwave popcorn for dinner. 

I’m in a megalopolis again, back on land. Boaters call it ‘the hard,’ and it is. I wept before I was able to move off Habibi. I love the Sea, not cities. But my nervous system couldn’t take another moment of too-close party boats and jarring wakes. I was having nightmares about the water taxi crashing into us. 

So leave the marina, you say, go anchor by an uninhabited island. Would love to. Dream about it. And now it’s hurricane season. Not inclined to sail solo just this minute. And I’m peopled-out. Need serious downtime. I’ve learned so much since I moved aboard, almost 46 weeks ago. Need to process this intense experience.

Slowly I turn, step by step. Swam distance yesterday, and met with another boat repair shop. Prefer Habibi in primo sailing shape, so I don’t worry about leaks and sinking. Also want to know her undersides, and figure out her insides. The marine toilet has never worked right. I saw a friend’s composting throne recently, and it was clear: replacement time. The Capitana’s chair is original to the boat, 1979, some kind of space-age molded plastic that rarely swivels well: can replace that, too. I’ve already unbolted and given away the heavy wooden drop-leaf table in the saloon, which freed a place for body rolling (a system of relaxation and alignment using balls).

I will recover my joie de vivre. I always do. Just like I usually (listen! listen!) know what to do when it’s time to do it. I’m three blocks from the ocean, with a good swimming hole and surf break. The Do Not Disturb sign is on the door.