Soon after deciding to boycott the aviation industry, I realized I would have to find myself an alternate plan.
Baked in sunshine, aboard a 10metre wooden sailboat named “Ramble”, discovering the endless Greek Islands and swimming in water clearer than air itself… isn’t really what I had in mind, but it’ll do.
“The bottom at 60feet is plainly visible as the floor under your feet. It was as if the boat were afloat in a crystal bowl. The silence was so delicate, a shimmering, trembling silence, that it seemed the slightest noise would shatter the world around you into a million pieces.” -Tristan Jones-
Thinking back to my arduous attempts in getting an American Visa (to sail the Atlantic) I’m reminded of the natural process and once more given proof that THE road is always the right road.
Sitting here though, it seems irresponsible to delve into the past. My legs are dangling over the edge of the hull, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, the dry rocky landscape and stone walls stretching on before me. Every moment here should be relished, every smile allowed to linger and every cool drop of the Aegean sea allowed to turn to salt on my now bronzed skin.
I’ve only just begun, but learning how to work the wind and sail the sea becomes more rewarding every day. And who better to inspire me that “Ramble”, and who better to teach me than John, her owner? The boat is small, old, of the earth (being wood) and in beautiful condition. Her captain (though he would never assume the title) is a humble, caring soul and fast becoming a good friend. He acquires a gentle respect from most who meet him, calming their fears and encouraging their dreams… without trying or even realizing it.
John’s support came well before I met him, and his empowering comments and stories have continued on from text to talk. An ability to listen better than most, and experience in living the life you love, I’m sure (I know) I’m not the first young vagabond he has inspired with his parental grace. When we’re not walking our moral high-ground by poking fun at all the electric techno tourists, we’re sharing a laugh, a good meal or an old story. Days are drifting beautifully on and my world is widening. I’m learning the terminology and yelling “Helm alee!” as we tack and “Gybe Ho!” as we gybe… but the question “Do you reef in your gaff-top sails when you are close-hauled or do you let go the mizzen-top bowlines and cross-jack braces?” – is still all Greek to me!