Its windy. The ferries stopped running. The float planes aren’t flying. Even the ducks are bobbing on the water tucked in the lee of a rocky outcrop. No one is going anywhere.
“I work today at the post office today. I’m going. The mail must get through!”
“Sal! The mail goes by way of the mail-plane. And that is not happening. There is no point. Don’t be a nut!”
“You worry too much. I am safe in my little boat. It’s good!”
“No boat is good in this. It’s a steady forty gusting to 50. Going with it might be OK but coming back, you could be blown right over!”
“I’m heading out. Keep the radio on!”
There is stubborn, there is pig-headed and then there is Moby Sal. She promised to reconsider when she got out in it.
SSSsssquaaaawwwk! (radio static) “David! I am here on the dock. All hell is breaking loose. Your boat even wore through a bow-line. I am NOT going! Holy crap, I can hardly stand up on the dock!”
Our house is on the west side of the property. The dock is on the east side. This is a Sou’ Easter. At the dock, it was right on the nose. I watched it all (boats, dock, houseboat) dance!
Together we repositioned the boats, checked the lines and watched as three foot waves rolled over the front of the dock. We watched as a few flotation barrels undulated to freedom. We watched as every rope stretched taut. We both almost blew over a couple of times. It is pretty harsh out there.
This is the stuff of winter, the west coast, off-the-grid, small-boat kinda thing. It makes you feel alive. It is also a bit scary sometimes. “I wonder if our solar array will survive this?”
“I wonder if the dock will survive this?”