The wind is howling, I'm inside the cabin, we're sailing, against the wind, against the waves.
I wear all my thermal clothes and a hat and gloves, I breathe the air inside my coat. The sky is blue though, like I asked, but damn, is it cold? Mardek is being battered, smashed on the water, thrown in the air, Hakan is outside, brave and resistant in the cold air, bringing us to our next anchorage, closer to our first next destination.
The funny thing about going to our next destination is that we put all we have got to go there, and then ones there we instantly look ahead to the following point. It must sound very unlikely to you but we're in a rush most of the time, not one like when you need to catch a train, but we seem to be constantly behind the schedule, constantly late in the season, on the very limit of not making it and being blocked in any given place forced to wait for the season to become favorable again.
our very next destination is Puerto Eden, where we'll buy some food and drinks, if there are any and then sail on to Puerto Montt or Valdivia, we're not sure yet. Quick quick refit the boat, load her with tons of food and water and then sail the pacific before the cyclone season arrives.
There is something very unnatural about our ways. Usually, when you strive to reach a goal, may it be geographical or not, you work expecting on arrival to have reached some level of satisfaction where you can rest your body and soul a little before going on. When we reach our next port of call, that is the very point when real work starts, very demanding and unforgiving work of running from this shop to that one, buying this for us, that for Mardek, making sure we have not forgotten any essentials before weighing anchor for our next leg. So there is no time what-so-ever to rest, to savor our reached goal. Savoring and resting must be done while reaching it. This is the very point where the unnatural knot is born. Sure, on the way I can rest my body, and believe me, I do, napping whenever a single cell asks me to, so to speak. But rest the soul, how can I rest my soul when I'm on my way. I send my soul to my next port of call and run behind it to reunite. I'm being pulled from the place where I am to the place where I go, and when I reach that very place I have very little time to rejoice in my being one, body and soul in one place, at peace, in one state of mind, for work starts and off my soul goes again to the next place.
I have felt this very strongly arriving in Ushuaia, we had left Mar del Plata a little more that a month then. On arrival I suddenly felt a very heavy weight lift from my shoulders, light, like a plume I walked the streets, near euphoria. I was in Ushuaia, I had sailed there, the very seas I didn't dare to talk about anymore because whenever I did the reactions from my interlocutors were so fierce, so full of deadly stories, of hardship and pain, of drama and disaster. But I had sailed it anyway, made my family accept my choice. I boarded Mardek sent my soul to Ushuaia and sailed behind it. When reunited euphoria like I said above, and soon after I felt it leave me again, I looked at it, travel the Beagle channel to Chile, quick quick, follow it, to Puerto Eden where it awaits my arrival, where it has studied where to shower, where to go wash my clothes, where to buy food. I'll arrive in Puerto Eden, get the information and see my soul off to the next port. But when can I rest it? When?
In truth, I don't send my whole soul, just a piece of it, a toe, a finger maybe, if ever a soul has parts like that. But even though, I'd like to rest it whole anyhow, ones in a while.
Before the crossing of the pacific I'll try not to send it ahead, see how that'll work.