My favorite part about living on a sailboat is that our home doubles as our vacation getaway vessel. Twenty minutes after making the torturous decision to damn the forecasters and take Halcyon out on Christmas despite the pending gale warning, we were motoring down the channel, already out of sight of the dock and any doubt that we made the right decision.
We chose a small nameless bay in Troop passage, a pleasant two hour motor away. It easily fulfilled our standing criteria: protected anchorage (for wind), shallow bottom (for anchoring), good crabbing (for eating), freshwater stream (for hiking).
We arrived mid afternoon, set the hook firmly, and settled into the satisfying tempo of boat life at anchor.
Take watch off -- go fishing -- set crab pots -- dinghy ashore -- bushwhack through woods -- wrestle with Chaco -- skip stones -- collect clams -- explore bay...
Drink tea -- warm up -- dry off -- read books -- eat chocolate bars -- play chess -- snuggle with Chaco...
Pig out on [free] gourmet seafood dinner -- go to bed early.
Yes, the wind was blowing and the rain was dumping but that's why we have closets full of fleeces, hats, gloves, muck boots, and waterproof pants. We could hear the gusts charge through the treetops above us, the broad hillside sheltering Halcyon like a shield.
Sleep in -- make pancakes -- read books -- stay in PJ's until lunch...
Suit up -- dinghy ashore -- wander -- check crab pots -- go fishing...
Wonder what time it is -- look for watch.
It wasn't getting late, the sun just sets very early around here. And that hillside performed it's sheltering duty alarmingly well, concealing the brunt of the storm from us with the deceptively calm bay in it's shadow. And our faithful dinghy, blindly following in our wake, so trusting in Halcyon to prudently lead the way.
To be continued...
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