I lived on a boat !

This boat to be specific. Forty one feet of haven......or was it escape.

Today....this morning, four years later, I look at all the photos and try to come to terms with the "why" of it.

It's not difficult.

Whilst going through this period of my life my daughter got married and I was obliged to give the customary speech. I worked diligently on this in my teak and cedar lined cave.....yes cedar. Made notes. Traditional jokes and comments about her youth, her new husband. All very normal and expected and, in the end, not what I wanted to say at all.

I travelled East, backward in time, burnt black by the wind, the sun and the salt spray, feeling conspicuous in clothing from a previous life. On arrival in Ontario my family promptly stuffed me into an extremely dapper tuxedo. Even worse but showed off my tan. The service was a sea of flowers and Krista looked spectacular. Whose daughter doesn't on their wedding day?

Fast forward to the reception and the obligatory speech from the father of the bride.

I stood in front of a couple of hundred people most of which I'd never seen before and haven't since by the way. I looked at them looking at me. Me looking at them and knowing that they expected the normal traditional speech and wishing that it were over. Let the dancing begin.

I took out my notes. Glanced at the first page and promptly stuffed them into my pocket. What I had written was the "tradition" the "expected." Not my schtick at all. (Schtick.....I should look that up.)

I talked to them, from my heart, about adventure. Not the adventure of starting down the path of married life but embracing adventure for it's own worth. Talking to a newly minted son in law who'd never been further West than Port Credit. Never been in a plane. Talking to a very professional daughter with a high paying and very secure government job. Very modern, very respected young people of the age.

I talked about the world. It's size. Oceans. Mountains. Deserts. Jungles. It's variety. I talked about fear. I talked about respect for the elements after all I had the tan to support the words. I talked about self sufficiency. I talked to them about not getting seined into this trap of backyard barbecues, office politics, weekends at a cottage and the occasional holiday in the Dominican Republic.

The more I talked the more I realized that people were listening. The more I talked the more I realized I was talking about myself. I had them. They listened. Not just the newly married couple but everyone. To them I brought to life what perhaps previously had been the thing of books, of TV. I knew I had given them cause to stop and think and I was satisfied with that.

My life has been one adventure after another. Was this planned? Ordained? Fate? Not really. More the result of not being afraid. I had a bucket list years ago. Long before the movie and Jack Nicholson's success.

Hence the boat. Baileys Ride. Bought less than a week after completing a non stop voyage from New Zealand to Victoria BC. Fortuitous timing. Retirement was close aboard. Forty one feet of proven passage maker. A number on my bucket list. An adventure. Another challenge. A rush. I lived on her and with her for over two years. I trusted her and she looked after me.

Perhaps more of this boat and my adventures in some future blog. When my mind wanders down that watery way along the edges of lotusland and beyond.

Suffice it to say that when I "move on," John Cleese had a dozen different expressions for this when talking about his parrot, I will be satisfied. Now or twenty years from now. I will be satisfied. Sure there are things I still want to do. They are less physical now as I get older but still things. To me every day is a gift. My only wish is that my memory were better but I'll write of that in a future blog. I'm fascinated by it...memory that is...or the lack of it.

One thing is for sure. I will not lie on my bed saying "I wish I'd." "I wish I'd." "I wish I'd."

The photo by the way was taken in Toba Inlet in BC.

Did I tell you I lived in Paris for a number of years? Hmmmmm another story for another time.