Sally’s dad is coming. He’s bringing his granddaughter, Sarah, our niece. They set sail from Sidney a few days ago and are tacking and jibing their way north. They are on a 27 foot sailboat that Peter has had since we (Sal and I) were last on boats. At least twenty years ago, probably 30. It is ship-shape, of course, clean as a whistle and well-equipped. Looks the same as the day he bought it – only better!

And not because of modern gee-gaws.

Peter is a sailor of the old school. In fact he is a real master mariner and, I believe, was a captain when he left the sea to immigrate to Canada some 55 years ago. He knows sailing from when ‘sailing’ actually meant sailing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still uses a lead-line instead of a sounder. Mind you, the lead-line would be well-marked, and be made of real lead with a hollow bottom and, knowing Peter, have a real dollop of wax in it (for determining what kind of bottom he is anchoring in).

Of course he has a real lead line! What am I thinking?

He and Sarah will sail when the wind allows it and, like all BC sailors, power when the wind is on their nose. And they’ll anchor instead of tying up to wharves. Dig for clams. Grab a few oysters. And they’ll catch prawns and maybe a fish now and then. They’ll use a real chart, not a ‘book’ or a ‘map’ or GPS. And they’ll have martinis when the sun sets over the yardarm. Old school.

Perhaps I shouldn’t emphasize ‘old’. Peter is, however, 88. That is ‘getting on’, for most of us. He is more than capable of single-handing the little sloop all by himself but he is definitely pushing the higher end of middle-aged. I think he would accept that……..

He’s more than capable of making martinis all by himself, too, but it just isn’t as much fun, as I understand it, unless you have younger company that passes out hours before you do. Peter is, honestly, more like 58 than 88. The guy makes the Energizer bunny look like a slacker.

And good ol’ Sal shares some of those genes (she got the best of both gene pools, really).

My biggest challenge over the next few days will be to stop him from making me work at things I don’t want to do and for me to keep up with the martinis once the damn yardarm is in the shadows. Trust me, you have to pace yourself with Peter.

They say age is just a state of mind. I don’t believe that. I think numbers count. Age accumulates and then you topple over from the weight of it all. So far, the best argument against such an obvious truth is Peter. He is 25 years older than I am and I fully expect him to ‘see me out’ as the British say.

Maybe it’s the martinis?