Time Out...

We are anchored in the cove with the arrow

Being stranded isn't nearly so bad when you're on a beautiful Island. In fact, I haven't felt stranded, at all. While the Captain has been involved with boring things like pump repairs and oil leaks, I've been enjoying the scenery, the wildlife, and the amazing variety of water craft moving in and out of this harbor. 

I've even taken a real shine to being rowed ashore in the dinghy, too. It makes me feel like chivalry is not dead. Of course, it helps to be married to someone who is old enough not to want to be rowed ashore by a woman. Which reminds me what a perfect match we are (thank you, God).

View out my galley window while
 I was baking bread

I think I actually have more time out here. Or, maybe it just doesn't come this far out into the water. Because I have taken to spending long stretches of simply soaking up the sun, staring at the sea, or watching the wind ruffle the branches of trees in the cove as it passes by. Which is so deeply satisfying, I don't care what time it is. Not even a bit.

The bread turned out fine

Of course, I have a lot of work to do, but I discovered something wonderful about that, too. It carries on without me. While I'm off enjoying myself, my brain is busy organizing and filing away little whispers of ideas I never would have taken time to listen to before. Marvelous little twists and turns of plot or character I might have missed otherwise. 

An otter came right up onto the
 boat and looked around one night

Right now, I think that trying to be "on time" for more than is humanly possible to do throughout a single day is highly overrated. Maybe even hazardous to one's health. Then again, there could be rapids ahead. Still, I wish I had a nickel for every time I felt like taking a "time out" was the last step before disaster. I would be a wealthy woman by now. It's never too late, though.

Especially when no one's keeping time.

Hold Everything!

View from the ferry dock

Nothing is as serious on a boat between ports than to go down below for something and discover the entire cabin is awash with water. There is only one thing I can think of that is worse. It's when you go down below, and the entire cabin is awash with black oil. 

If you should also be in a narrow channel between islands with a fleet of giant ferry boats passing by every thirty minutes, you not only begin to wonder what to do next, but what in the world it was that tempted you to be out there in the first place. I usually blame everything on the Captain and remind him that he is responsible for my life. Something I am not proud of, but I'm trying to be honest, here.

I felt something like this...
 but not as pretty

As usual, things always look worse than they really are (hmm… that almost sounds like sermon material). The oil was not new oil. It was the same stuff that had drained the engine when the hydraulic hose broke, last week. We hadn't pumped those eight quarts out of the bilge, yet, because it is against the law to do that. You have to pump it all into a bucket and dispose of it properly. Preferably at some official recycle center. But one doesn't run into a lot of those in the places we've been lately. Which is why we were waiting until we got to the next big place. 

Underneath those eight quarts, however, was about two hundred gallons of seawater. Which turned out not to be coming from a hole in the boat, but a malfunctioning pump that was letting water in instead of keeping it out. An easy fix if you don't count the hours it took to clean up the mess. 

Meanwhile, we are resting (literally) at anchor in Friday Harbor, in the San Juan Islands (a place where we actually used to live many years ago). It is our last stop before crossing over into Canada. I'm not sure how long we will be here. A couple days if all goes well, and a couple weeks if it doesn't. The nice thing is that it doesn't matter. 

Rowing back from town

Not even the fact that we are laying over in one of the most expensive tourist spots in the state at the busiest time of the season. Because we brought our own world with us. Our little home on the water is packed with everything we need for weeks on end. So, we live the same whether anchored in some deserted cove, or in the middle of a busy harbor. Not to mention we have the most "high dollar" view in town. 

Wow. More good sermon material.