the reverse curve of time

~ From Coop ~

We can’t believe it’s only day 3; it all feels like a dream. Dreams of all types have been woven through the amazing characters we keep meeting. Even though one of the priorities I have when planning time on the water is spending time alone, slowing down, most of my favorite personal adventure memories are about the people along the way. These past few days have been packed with meeting new and old friends on the water. Yesterday, we woke up in Watmough Bay to sunshine blasting through the hatches and portholes and morning bird noises from the rock wall shoreline next to us. The rest of the boat was still sleeping so I went to sit in Grasshopper and read my current book The Boat Who Wouldn’t Float. I say current book, but if you know me, you know that even though I love to read, I really don’t end up reading books very often. Just as I was about to start reading, a boat neighbor rowed over and asked me “what’s the name mean?” J.D Crowe was the builder’s favorite bluegrass banjo player. Neighbor Man said that the one time he had a lucid dream it was about a boat that had a name with initials and “now I really don’t know if it was real life or not?” He stayed for coffee and we talked boats for a while. Sometimes on the water interactions are very “ooh have you been here?, ooh what a boat!, ooh this __ weather! oooh how great is this?” But this man had some real moments, opening up about his struggle as a 75ish-year-old man trying to stay motivated to get out in his sweet little sloop. “I just don’t enjoy it as much as I used to. I don’t enjoy anything as much as I used to and that’s hard, I still enjoy working on the boat, and I get it done, but pushing off and doing this alone is really hard.” I loved hearing this honest and vulnerable perspective because being on boats, while it is my favorite thing to do, can be really hard for me too. I worry a lot on boats, and it can be hard physically and mentally to exist in such a different routine. I think this is one of the reasons I love disc golf; I’m never worried about dragging anchor throwing frisbees.

After coffee we packed up and motored back out into the Straight of Juan de Fuca and peeled around to Cattle Pass where we rode a tidal river with whirlpools, logs, and lots of rocks towards Turn Island where we would go fishing with our grandmother and Nate caught his first ling cod at age 8. We thought about detouring to go through Friday Harbor but kept heading towards Stuart Island. We got a text from a dear friend from Bainbridge who was running a charter yacht and lounging in Deer Harbor with his clients. He invited us for a cold beer. Tiller hard over, we turned the yellow cedar bow sprit of the Crow towards Deer Harbor. We told ourselves “let’s just say hi and keep going.” 6 bottles of wine and a bunch of delicious food later, we said goodbye to our old friend Captain Dick, but also our new friend who happens to be a famous TV Chef and restauranteur. We departed just before sunset, our arms loaded with crab, seafood stock, noodles, a bunch of chopped veggies… oh, and a case of wine to go as they had “over purchased.” Thanks, people!

Arriving later than we thought, we didn’t get to hang out with our friend who lives alone in a driftwood home that is my dream of heaven. She came down to the boat this morning and we made sourdough waffles with bacon and cheddar cheese in them on the stovetop wafflemaker recently bestowed upon us by one of the first families to take Coop cruising. When she sat down she said, “I have this thing with ravens going on. I want to be able to see the world like they do; mostly ultraviolet. I just know that they see things we don’t. I think they have tattoos that we can’t see… and I want to see them!” More dreams, more Corvid connections. Julia blew her mind when she rolled up her sleeve and showed her crow tattoos from each shoulder.

The waffles were great, and we talked for a couple hours before deciding that we should all go sailing and look for whales. This friend was a whale-watching captain and has lived within a stone’s throw of Haro Straight for over 30 years with only what she really needs. She wanted to bring her hydrophone so that we could listen to the whales, so she and I rowed into shore and walked the 1.5 miles oyster-shell-lined-trails through the desert-dry forest that is astonishingly different than forests only a few miles away because of its incredible micro-climate rainshadow. The oyster shells are like little beacons of reflective light for walking at night. Every ten feet or so another shell shows you your next few steps. She’s “getting up there in years,” she said, and often thinks about building a bench, but she can still just sit down on the forest floor and “look around and take it all in and still get back up. If I build these benches I might not be able to get back up from the ground much longer.” Use it or lose it!

We went sailing and there wasn’t much wind. There were lots of whale-watching boats around but no whales. And we were just glad to be out there, sailing, not worrying much, enjoying it- even more because we know how lucky we are to be doing this together as a family, but also with these amazing characters that have jumped out, jumped into our hearts, and jumped onto the pages of our story. Especially lucky to enjoy this because someday, for some reason, we might not have the motivation to push off the dock, or push ourselves up from the forest floor.

Today ended with eating the gifted ingredients from said TV star chef and sharing it with dear friends from Port Townsend. They own and live on Raven – see some of the pictures of the dark-hulled wondercraft in the photos. Nate often quotes a quote from the Big Lebowski when Walter Sobchek quotes Theodore Hertzel: “If you will it, dude, it is no dream.” I guess that quote really ties the room together for us on the Crow right now. Really glad we are doing it! A dream!

– Coop