The Ocean is me 'Olepe ; He'eia, Oahu, Pre North Pacific Crossing via Sailboat
Ho'opaumanawa – Waste Time
An art, this. Aboard the tiny ship.
Give me books past six inch thick.
Hullo, welcome aboard The Paramour III! Says myself to myself.
We talk to the waves, is for sure.
46 feet is a far fall, but the cluttered sprawl of the livingspace of a seasoned Sailor who has been upon the water round-the-world for five years sure doesn't have an airy feel. Baggage o'e'ry sort, untouchable on par with actual, is packed between the sweet molding that lines the inner walls. Boward liquid leaks, yearold pillows thick with greydot damp salt, the hull under covered with barnacles that lick and spit riced krispie bits on deadcalm nights as I sleep, amberfur vest about my face, curled in the triangle hobbit-temple at the bow of the ship.
We thought the cracklin' to be cockroaches the first night – I woke to see Ben (golden curled Son o'Captain Jamie) like a fish-firefly leaping about in the cockpit with his headlamp and a twisted beach towel, squirrel snapping at bugs. Didja know they Fly? Says he, shy.
Bow – Very Front o'the'boat
Na'u anei keia? - Is This For Me?
Transitional time; Processional development.
An accumulation of understanding due to patient experience.
Wherin' Whathefuck becomes OkayIcandothis becomes Boatlifeisdelicious..
Tomorrow I'll have been on Oahu, Hawaii, for two weeks. The first week I seriously questioned my sanity in doing this; it seems I'd voluntarily thrown myself into the thick of other peoples accumulated shit. A man and his young lover, her beenpast a year and a half on the boat with him and stuck six months in Paradise – sweet Sophie calls Hawaii a Prison. Erm. I'm like 'Yay I'm in Hawaii! Uh..yay.. uh..' Plus the Captains 18 year old son, their relationship limited to short visits through Ben's childhood, now being intentionally re-kindled on this epic Cross-Pacific Voyage.
Den dere be me. Da Kine. Happy-go-lucky lil'lady, who cast aside her colourful life and kitty in East Van to be trussed heart hand and mind to the fate of this entwined, utterly broke, silently conflicted crew.
Here goes B, Pupule! Crazy Brony.
Ho'omanawanui – Be Patient
Mahina Piha – Full Moon
First night aboard the Paramour III: Dead Calm. Clear He'eia Bay. Full Moon.
I perched out the bow porthole past midnight licked thick by moonlight with my journal, scribbling my lily heart out, a beat, beat, bunk on the deck, cursing my implacable emotions, wishing for any what but where I be. Lift me from this! Impatient temporary selfishness. In shorterm retrospect I know that I knew I had to hunker through with this difficult transition. So much fear in it. What if I can never fit in with this? As if growing up ever erases this concern.
Loa – Long, Much, Very
Ipukukui – Lamp
Most crutches of e'rydaylife are amiss upon the ship: good lighting (brain ache LEDs dominate, to my chagrin),space space space, a beer or four, The Ding kitty, internet friend connectivity, a skate 'round the hood, green vegetables.. Five-plus days of bung done up in me bowels due to a ships bread tack diet sure led to my backedup mentally misinterpreted mind.
Palaoa – Bread
ThanktheGodsofHonoluluChinaTownforThreeBallerinaTea.. swim free fine gluteny turdlettes!
The Head is right byne mine own as I sleep. Captain commented upon my backwards sleep style, normal bowbunkers put their feets down towards the tip of the triangle, head by the head. But my nose is sensitive – thanks be to momma. The Mold is worse there, but the toilet is worse at the other.
Believe it or not I'm getting used to it. When we set sail in a day or three I won't be able to sleep in the hobbit-temple anyways, the Bow and Aft cabins roil and toil like roller gerbils. Three at a time we'll be curled on the sette mid-cabin, the fourth constantly on watch, every three hours a switch over.
I think I'll be doin the Midnight to Three Am, Noon til Three Pm shifts. In between there be naps and the complicated necessity of cooking in a galley that pitches knives and pots of boiling water at my face.
Alpha, Bravo.
Sophie thinks I'll be too sick for the first few days to even contemplate eating food, let alone to cook it.
Yahoo!
Moana - Ocean
Right meow I sit in the Fish Cafe at the end of He'eia Pier, facing the aqua textured bay through a big window, the water a six foot drop below me. Boats flit through the small passage between coral reef and shore. A row of japanese tourists atop plastic kayaks towed by a motor, locals dark with sun and black back tattoos in dirty little boats draped with fishing lines, fine local ladies in fine boats set with cheesaroos and Aloha Cerveza heading out to the Sandbar at the entrance to the bay... Each trip in the Dinghy named Donkey from The Paramour to the pier is a perilous one. On this edge of Oahu there be the only Barrier Reef in all of Hawaii – at low tide a wide expanse of clinging flatness, at high tide a bare three feet below the surface, sure to shave a motor-pinwheel to smithereens.
We hit it a, few, times, at night..
'Aina – Land
Popoki – Cat
Ashore there be a colony of feral cats.
We name them and pat their scrawny butts. For real tho, fifty plus furzy meowzers. Seems the locals dump felines at He'eia park for ancient local ladies to take care of.
All we do onland is hitchike to Safeway and buy big masses of food to pack back to the boat.
Provision, Provision, Provision, Creditcardcreditcardcredit.
Wai – Fresh Water
At that, all is dinghied in jug by jug and syphoned into the holding tank.
Same with the diesel, gas, and propane.. potatoes, onions, oranges, rice, multi-spiced Spams, flour, canned e'rythang...
The Captain regularly checks the weather forecast for the North Pacific when we're in bubbles of internet. We would leave today, but the green to yellow to red swirling curl of colour accross from Russia to Alaska could very well develop to hurricane force winds out there, so we decide not, to, go. Yet.
Hopefully Tuesday will show less red, green at most, less curl flow; two weeks at most to reach the middle of that. We provision for 50 days. Half that is what time should take.
Just our four faces, just one small boat.
Just a big wet spread of liquid fate.
Makani – Wind
Constant.
Know what I'm grateful for? Skittles made green be Green Apple. Mucho Bettah.
Also, thanks be to Ben for letting me touch his computer for over an hour – such a treat, been bridging worlds on the shite-design of Airplane-Mode-Android-Phone. Reading besides, he just passed me the Skittles bag and said 'I left you the rest of the green ones'
:D
Somewhere Over the Rainbow by that fine big Hawaiian guy just got given on the cafes speakers.
Calm smooth blue washes over us. It's mid afternoon. We gotta go back to the boat soon.
The stool sways beneath me, every second or so, sea legs seem to lift me light off the ground, and a slight heave back down. Such a sweet strange feeling.
I wish to draw you the coastline. Masts pick the sky clouds above ridged mountains furred with jungle trees.. Northwards sheets of mist fade the sealandsky.. sweat drips past the peeling folds of skin all over me body..
Pau! - Finished!
Must has eats. A Float in heat.
Next update: Alaska.
Hopefully.
Love to every one of you who care for me, I am thinking so often of you, be sure of that.
AlohaPua
Galley Wench Brony
