The week was typical; Tuesday in town, Wednesday at Market day and yoga ending with a visit to a friend’s re-birth party.  Thursday was virtually nothing – just downtime.

Our friend and neighbour was stricken last year with a real ‘broken heart’ as the main aortic line split longitudinally and he was ‘bleeding out’ rapidly while out in the sticks alone.  A number of lucky events came together and he miraculously survived all of them – the good, the bad and the magical – and came back to us.  Wednesday marked a full year on the mend.  Miraculous, really.  99% of those afflicted die.  And they are in the city!  This guy is now hiking about, keeping homestead together and starting to build a new boat!  He probably travels more than Hilary Clinton and yet complains of “…not being fully 100%”.  They breed ém tough out here.

Mind you, no tougher than his wife!  She hikes, keeps more of the homestead together and does even more. These people are more physical in a week than we were in a year when we lived in the city.  And, way too soon after a near death experience, they have exceeded us again! And they are older!  I have no idea if rural life is somehow the elixir of youth but there is no doubt that it makes you stronger.  

So, we had a little celebration.  30 people or so from all over the world.  Including Tasmania!  And, of course, everyone there reflected on their own mortality. I know I did.

One of the visitors came up in his big steel ketch and hit a rock at the pass going about 15 knots.  Started taking water.  His pumps were holding but he was in shock.  Literally.

Life is a continuous adventure out here and, like all adventures, they are not all good. Holing a steel hull is the result of quite a smack into an unexpected hard place.  They’ll be fine but such an accident is life altering.  It probably shouldn’t be but it really is.  A large sailboat has all your ‘stuff’ and it is also your means of transportation as well as your protection while in new and unfamiliar areas.  It is the carrier of people who trust you, the captain.  If you built it yourself (as he did) over a decade or so, it even takes on a personality of it’s own.  He can feel the boat emotionally.  There is a huge transference of one’s self into the boat and then to have it wounded is horribly heart wrenching.  He feels 100% responsible for everything, the boat, the people on board, the circumstance -everything.  Trust me, it is a much bigger burden than most.  Despite being inanimate, it feels like a cross between a parent and a child and oddly, as if they were from another family that only you know well.  Weird, eh?

I am now officially behind in my chores.  Summer is only partly to blame.  It’s mostly me.  When I get on to something, get all the materials and all the tools out, I am pretty good.  But once I have stopped, I am stopped.  And getting me going again is not easy.  Think Ayers Rock.  And, so, I haven’t gotten going again and I really must.  Gotta get some stuff done by winter.

Altho, daydreaming has some appeal right now, too…………………