|By Garth A. Harris
Southeast Valley Line-X
I’ve been ask to write
about my sailing experience, which required me to think
about what seafaring stories could I regale the reader
I could write about the time I decided I was going to
break the non-stop solo around-the-world record. But,
after experiencing a solo trip from Virginia to Bermuda,
I lost all desire to race around the world.
I could also write about Rat, my cat, and how sick he
got the first time we hit the open water. But, that
would be a pretty messy story, and I don’t want to
disrupt anyone’s meal.
Then there was that time I sailed into Sydney port,
sans any clothes. I was so used to not wearing them that
I forgot to put anything on. But, that story may be a
bit to pornographic, especially, the Dock Master
Then I got to thinking about the calm days and nights
at sea where I spent hours upon hours contemplating the
universe and my role in it. But, either my thoughts were
too deep, or I’m just not sure I can put those thoughts
I spent time rereading a doctoral dissertation by
Julian James: "The origin of the Consciousness in the
Breakdown of the Bi-Cameral Mind." Now how’s that for a
piece of reading literature?
I guess it really doesn’t matter as I deep six’d that
text after trying to read it for the third or fourth
time. Actually, I ran out of toilet paper, and I wasn’t
about to rip up a good Louis Lamour western or one of my
sailing reference manuals.
Besides, the Lamour books made for good trading
Come to think of it, there was that time that I was
de-masted during a "Perfect Storm" contender. But then I
would be telling everyone about how stupid I was for
thinking I could handle anything the sea could throw at
Also, everyone would know about the time I messed my
pants because I was strapped to the cockpit with no
relief. Have you ever tried sitting on a toilet during a
storm — I’d rather ride a rodeo bull; at least that ride
would last only eight seconds.
There are other things I could write about, such as
the joy of leaving port and the "Am I stupid?" thoughts
as I leave the sight of land to the rush one gets the
first time they see land on the horizon and the
uncontrollable urge to yell, "LAND HO!!!! TWO POINTS OFF
THE PORT BOW!!!"
Which scared Rat so bad, he being so used to the
peace and quiet, that my yell almost sent him climbing
the metal mast.
So, what should I write about? Perhaps I should start
at the beginning — how a Montana cowboy and former
logger climbed into a sailboat for the first time and
became addicted, to the sun, the wind, and the waves.
But, I think that will have to wait for another time.
Seems I ran out of space.