dodecahedron

if you've ever thought it might be bland to stare at the sea day after day, i can assure you, it is not.

this salty surface we call home is ever-changing. we've set sail on a morning atop silvery seas, a liquid re-creation of early-day sunlight glowing beneath our hull. under the blue sky, the sea is radiant, scattering sunlight like a field of diamonds. under grey clouds, it can be a deep and brooding green, or a sullen grey, or an inky, foreboding blue. in flat seas with a wind, like between the gulf islands, the surface does not roll but shivers all over with wrinkles from the breeze, and darkens with a telltale gust. the rolling waves out in the strait vary in size and order; sometimes they carry on, equal and steady in their determined passing of power. other times they confusedly mash against each other, peaking this way and that. sometimes the waves approach with a smooth face like chipped glass, other times traced with ripples and bubbles from their constant rising and folding. rarely is it flat-calm, and often it is pricked with countless drops of rain as far as the eye can see, no matter the texture. but it is never the same.

today (sunday) we got it all, it seemed. we left the calm harbour of pirates cove on de courcy island early in the morning to slip out with the tide. the mirrored surface of the cove reflected the long shores (a treasured feature of the gulf islands), splitting only to let rafiki back out the narrow entrance. wind began to chase the waters as we wound our way out towards the straight, and soon changed to chop as we entered the salish sea to cross once again.

that accursed chop had the ususal suspects feeling not their best, but at least it meant we all spent time together in the cockpit. it was nice to snuggle with the kiddos as we raced north towards the mainland for our fourth (and theoretically final) crossing of this body of water. the wind and tide were in our favour (if not the motion) and we clipped into the strait, surpassing hull speed to the pleasant whoosh-ing sound of water against the hull.

not too far into the game, we dished out gravol to those in need - WHY DIDN'T WE DO THIS EARLIER?! it's an actual miracle drug: eat the tiny pill, have a lucid nap, wake up feeling like the world is your oyster... what was i waiting for??

anyway, ignorance aside, the passage was made easy by this pharmaceutical assistance, and the kids had a mellow day down below. aaron and i braved the weather in our rubbers. showers came and went, sun came and went, but finally it stayed as we crept into malaspina strait with our sails raised to catch the wind. rafiki entered pender harbour by the narrow channel at the entrance, wove through the busy waters, and dropped anchor to call garden bay home for the night.

the ocean really does feel like home now. sometimes i think of our house up on land and all the things in it. it's nice to have those things, for when you want them... but we have everything we need on the boat. thinking of being in our house among all the stuff just doesn't match the thrill of moving every day. i wouldn't trade the comfort of a wide couch at the end of a long day for popping my head out the hatch to say goodnight to the harbour one more time. i wouldn't trade the comfort of closed doors for feeling a nearly-warm, nearly-summer rain sprinkle over me and my boat. i can't even say i'd trade a day with the wind for a night with a bed to myself.

but hey, ask me again in three months.