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Posted by on Jul 19, 2011 in Blog, Sailing |

Things Change

I know that you are expecting to read a blog today by Christine Kling, but for the second night in a row she just did a face plant in the forepeak bunk. It’s up to me to fill in for her. Let me introduce myself. I’m Chip, the Intrepid Seadog.

See the captain had a pretty rough 36 hours out there, not to say that I had it so easy, but I did get a bit more sleep than she did. And she wrassled that steering wheel and cranked on those winches so much that her typing fingers just aren’t up to blogging. I’m a two-pawed typist, but I’ll just have to do.

We left Foxtown in the Bahamas on Wednesday morning and since the captain had hoisted the little boat up onto the back of the big boat, she didn’t even take me in for my morning sniff and poop. Once we got underway, she hooked my leash to my harness — which naturally got me all excited — and she walked me up onto the foredeck. I looked back at her as if to say, “Really? You expect me to go up here? With you watching?”

All afternoon the captain kept running around putting sails up and taking them down just before big black clouds rained on us. Then when she would put them all up again, a little later she’d start yelling “son of a bitch.” My ears perked up as if to say, “You rang?” but it seems she wasn’t talking to me. She took down the sails and it started raining again. I pretty much slept through most of the rain because it cooled off and because the boat wasn’t leaning over.

The problem came just about sunset when the boat really started to do some tricks — you know, like lie down, shake, and roll over. All the sails were up and I could hear lots of water noises. I know they call me the Intrepid Seadog, but I’ve got to admit, I do get a little scared sometimes. Especially when the wind blows really hard. Okay, and I get seasick, too. Yeah, all right, I will admit it. I was puking. Puddles of half-digested kibble everywhere. This time when the captain said, “Son of a bitch,” I think she was talking to me. Or about me, anyway. Then everything started crashing and banging and the boat was really leaning over and stuff fell on top of me. I couldn’t get out from under this pile of chart books and the captain didn’t come down to save me. At least not right away. When she finally came down and rescued me, she apologized. She said the boat couldn’t steer itself anymore and she had to stay outside all night. That was the last I saw of her for about the next 10 hours.

Sometimes I heard her yelling out there. It sounded like she was howling at the moon. I know what that feels like.

The captain had told me we were going to do three nights at sea to go to a place called Charleston, but in the morning, she changed her mind, and we spent the whole day getting to the place called Port Canaveral. She stayed out there hanging onto the wheel all day. I gotta admit, I was pretty glad to see grass when we got tied up last night. The captain seemed pretty happy to see her pillow after over 40 hours without sleep.

The thing I like most about my captain is that she makes plans, but when things change, she can turn the leash in a new direction. I’ve slept under the captain’s feet at her computer table for many years now. She thinks I don’t understand, but I know she’s telling stories. I hear her talking to herself using the voices of the people in the stories. She makes plans for her stories — she even writes down the plans, but sometimes those plans have to change, too. I know if it’s not working– if she’s calling out to me, her own darling son of a bitch too much, then I know she changes the story. Sometimes she says she has to throw the plan overboard and go against the current just like she did on the boat the other night. I don’t know where we’regoing next or when the boat’s going to get fixed or when the next story is going to be finished — but I think that’s what makes life with the captain interesting. . . at least it is when she’s not snoring in the forepeak.

As the captain says . . . Fair winds!

Chip the Intrepid Seadog