When i moved to Texas my heart ached for my little piece of hidden beach in the sky far away in England some place. Thats the trouble with drifting. You find yourself leaving pieces of yourself behind. My sailing life was in England, but my wandering adventurers soul loved Texas, and still does. When i was a little boy i wanted to be an American Indian riding out on the panhandle and watching the sunsets. I drift from dream to dream as i drift from country to country, or state to state.
Now that i’m temporarily in New England I sail as much as i can (surprisingly its not all that much because i live in the one place in New England that doesn’t have my kind of boating atmosphere). I’ve had a lot of boating jobs, but nothing lasts forever. You can’t really progress or live off a summer job. But i’ve tried it. Its hard not to be able to do everything you love everyday. So when those tough days come and i dream of the wind in my hair, the creaking planks and taught rope snaring… i look at my life and think about to all those places i’ve sailed to, all those drunken nights in random ports somewhere or i flick through my travel pictures to remember what i achieved ( or i dive into a good nautical book).
I’ve been lucky.