Dena Hankins's Blog, page 6

Madeira to Lanzarote Day 1

Tuesday, May 7

James’ anchor-up to 1600 watch

We’re off! 

No forecast in hand because neither of us had time left on our data sims. We tried calling two different boats on VHF but got no response. I don’t know whether they weren’t listening to channel 16, which would be rather scandalous, or chose not to talk to us. Both boats were French and we hailed them in English, after all.

James’ 1700-1800 watch

Our morning arrival in Madeira gave us all day to do chores and we still had time to get a nap in! It felt good. 

The lifeline netting was so worn from being bleached and then being exposed to UV full time for years that it was just coming apart. We removed it and added replacement netting to the shopping list.

We got a great deal on 316 grade stainless steel tube fittings from Sailrite when we did the electric motor conversion, but one piece has been driving us crazy. The support tube for the newer, 48v wind generator has an end fitting with an eye that goes to a base with a pin. The pin is a loose fit and it both rattles and lets the top portion of the tower move forward and aft. Just a little, but enough to be irritating. After trying some fancy fixes, we went simple: wrapping electrical tape around the pin. We’ll see!

The head’s intake hose started leaking on the last leg from Madeira and, believe me, that’s the best case scenario when you suddenly have wetness under the pump. Any other part of the system and the leakage does not consist of good clean seawater. The diagnosis was a stripped hose clamp, so I pulled the thing off and replaced it. The hose is a little screwed up under there so, when we add a vented loop, we’ll trim it back some. 

Meanwhile, James made our adjustable solar panel braces less adjustable. Shockingly, the cheap pieces of shit we bought on Azhole were really cheap pieces of shit, and they have corroded enough that the plastic latches that keep them extended won’t engage. Now that he drilled holes and threaded in fasteners, the panels are either up or down, but that’s better than not having an “up” option. 

While he was doing that, he inspected the hinges and found a loose nut. So loose, in fact, that it fell in the water when he touched it. The awkward access meant replacing that was a two person job.

Then, this morning, we tightened the tiller head fitting again, and patched a tiny hole in the main where it looks like it got pinched somehow. Above the second reef. I have no idea how that happened. 

And now we’re back in the big ocean. A southeast setting current and a northeast wind have us beating toward the Ilhas Desertas. I think we’ll be nearby for sunset. I’m hoping for good light!

Wednesday, May 8

Dena’s 2400-0300 watch

Navigating downwind of the Big Islands was serious work. The wind kept changing direction and strength over and over and over again. Sail trim was all I did on my last one hour watch. James reports that he had the same experience. 

Now that we’re clear of them, the wind is steady. The waves aren’t splashing me or making anything dangerous. The wind is forward of the beam enough that we are doing quite a bit of heeling but we’re also making pretty good speed.

I’m excited to report that Beluga Greyfinger is doing excellently well. He stayed on the bunk for a couple hours after we weighed anchor but he often takes his afternoon nap there anyway. He jumped down and hung out in the saloon very quickly and has eaten. I think we’re all acclimated to being underway well enough one day at anchor didn’t make us forget how to do this thing.

Noon position: N 31° 47.904’ W 016° 07.194’
Distance 1530 to noon: 66.9 NM
Average speed: 3.28 kn
Trip distance covered: 66.9 NM
Distance to destination: 215.2 NM

Santa Maria to Madeira Day 7

Sunday 5/5

Since we’re not going to stand off and wait for daylight to enter the anchorage, it’s kinda silly to be so wrapped up in the math on when we might arrive, but here I am. 

We’re almost 35 nautical miles away so, at a 2-3 knot average speed, that means somewhere between 4am and 9am. We could arrive faster if the wind backs around north as the forecast calls for, but I’m not counting on anything.

Meanwhile the alternating overcast and sunny periods keep it interesting, and the mountainous island is abeam to starboard. Plenty to see and enjoy, if I can stop doing math for a minute.

Monday 5/6

At anchor 

We eased down the lee shore, a rocky spine we then motored back up behind. Two boats were in the anchorage, but one left as we approached. We got the spot I wanted!

This is a beautiful place.

Anchorage position: N 32° 44.741’ W 016° 42.621’
Distance noon to destination: 48.3 NM
Average speed: 2.65 kn
Final trip distance: 517.5 NM

Santa Maria to Madeira Day 6

Saturday 5/4

James’ 1400-1500 watch

Between noon and 2, we averaged 5 knots. What’s really amazing about that is how comfortable it is, with a modest heel, less motion in response to much-calmer waves, and a wind that isn’t howling through the rigging. Looks as easy on the gear as it feels on the body.

Even Beluga Greyfinger is acting like his anchorage self.

It’s ridiculous to talk about “if this keeps up, we’ll arrive by…” because the forecast definitely calls for the wind to weaken and back to the west. We’ll go with main and yankee if we can, main alone if we have to aim too far downwind. 

Even so, this fast period has given us a good margin. We can get tucked behind the peninsula and anchored well before the storm up north forces the wind through to northeasterly, as long as we can do better than 2 knots from here on out. More likely, we’ll have a nice day there before the strongest winds hit.

Sunday 5/5

Dena’s 0300-0600 watch

We’re within 70 NM of the end of the peninsula on Madeira. At this rate, we’re definitely arriving Monday. The only question is morning or afternoon. I’m glad we won’t get there in the dark for both aesthetic and practical reasons, but I wouldn’t mind a morning arrival.

It doesn’t sound like we’re moving at all most of the time, but we’re sailing about 3 knots on average on a broad reach with a full main and yankee. It feels like the completion of the calming that started last night, and it feels more comfortable than the actual calms we saw at the beginning of the trip.

Dena’s 0900-1000 watch

Now it looks like we’ll be arriving in the dark. It’s been wonderful, getting 3 knots out of such light winds…can’t be more than 8 knots of wind speed and often feels like a whisper. I suspect helpful currents but I’m not too proud to take a boost. Visually, we look to be going about that speed through the water, so maybe it is all skill.

We’re 25 NM from the closest point of land and I got a text message from MEO inviting me to add money for more data. Yeah, thanks guys. If it were that easy, I would have already done it. Their online interface requires a tax id number, so we were going into stores to add money in Praia da Vitória.

Eventually, we’ll either get the same message on James’ phone and so much for getting updated forecasts, or he’ll get signal and we’ll be able to check in with the world. I’ll never turn down information, but I’m not feening to check the news.

Noon position: N 33° 09.465’ W 017° 20.158’
Distance noon to noon: 92 NM
Average speed: 3.8 kn
Trip distance covered: 469.2 NM
Distance to destination: 46.6 NM

Santa Maria to Madeira Day 5

Friday 5/3

Dena’s 1400-1500 watch

Started off the new sailing period with a pbnj sandwich, baked beans, and a nap. Totally satisfying.

When I went above to check things out at the beginning of this watch, LoveBot was struggling a bit. I also realized that we were too far upwind to stay on track. A bit more staysail, tracking over the main a little, and we are going strong.

Maybe a little too strong? It’s a fast tack, that’s for sure. Closer to a beam reach than a close reach, so we’re getting even more spray into the cockpit. 

The kicker is that my waterproof pants gave out all the way across a thigh seam. I mean, halfway around the entire leg. I’m not pleased. A wet cockpit and no waterproof pants means I’m about to cycle through every pair I own, drying the wet ones while wearing the driest.

I sincerely hope we get less wave action soon, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.

Dena’s 2000-2100 watch

Since noon, our average speed has been 4.1 knots. For us, in these conditions, that’s pretty fast. It’s also unusual for people to plan passages on average speeds that low. We’re a different kind of sailor, but not without our role models. Not long ago, Annie Hill wrote a blog post about slow travel, a clever reference to slow food. Pretty much every one of Shirley’s posts on Speedwell of Hong Kong fits the bill.

The wind is abating but I don’t expect it to get actually gentle until Sunday. If we could maintain this speed, we’d be hook down off Madeira Sunday afternoon. I think Monday is more likely.

Saturday 5/4

Dena’s 2400-0300 watch

Hello broad reaching, my old friend.

James decided to move the wind abaft the beam at 2200. I felt the change in the boat’s motion…it brought me half-awake but I went back to sleep as soon as I identified what had woken me.

Now I’ve done my start-of-watch due diligence (familiarized myself with course, sail trim, LoveBot status, vessels nearby, and power status), I can really relax.

We’re doing 3-6 knots like ya do when the waves are helping rather than hindering. Don’t get me wrong, Cetacea was mounting those close reach waves like her namesake creatures. It’s just easier when we’re not fighting the forces of nature.

Dena’s 0600-0900 watch

I woke up from a dream that I’d been commissioned to write about the ”old cars with new powers” trope in movies for some publication. I was really irritated by the assignment, in the dream.

Then I got up and got dressed and Beluga Greyfinger did something he learned not to do as a kitten. He attacked James’ face. A lunge and run away kind of attack, but with claws out and James got scratched enough to bleed.

Beluga has been so still for this trip that I want to attribute it to excess energy, but that doesn’t make it better. He had finished his food about 10 minutes prior, but still not okay. He’s never done that before and I hope he never does that again.

After all the excitement, James went to sleep in the forepeak and I started my watch in earnest. We’re still making excellent time, and I was able to roll out the staysail. Now we’re on a reach just a tad behind the beam with both headsails and a single reef in the main. I imagine we’ll shake that reef sometime today.

The sun rose behind the only rainshower in the sky, so not the most showy version of a sunrise. Oh well, looks like it will be a beautiful day.

Noon position: N 34° 03.178’ W 018° 46.778’
Distance noon to noon: 103.7 NM
Average speed: 4.33 kn
Trip distance covered: 377.2 NM
Distance to destination: 134 NM

Santa Maria to Madeira Day 4

Thursday 5/2

Dena’s 1300-1400 watch

A sudden increase from F3 to F4 needed another reef in the main and about 50% of the staysail rolled in. Feels good and balanced again, but the increased winds are starting to show in increased wind waves. 

A directional change accompanied the increase, though, nicely southwest and now we’re not on a hard beat but a beam reach. I do prefer this, or a close reach, to a beat. In this amount of wind, a broad reach (with the wind abaft the beam) would be even more comfortable but weather can’t be begged or bribed.

I’m eying a spot to the south where I can see it’s raining. I wouldn’t mind skipping that lashing.

Dena’s 1900-2000 watch

Since that last front passed, we are back to southerly winds, one reef in the mainsail and a full staysail. It seems to be the only way to power through and over the waves. We rarely drive the boat this hard and rarely allow it to do so much heeling, but we also rarely sail on a beat.

The wind is supposed to turn further west and I hope that we will be able to broaden out then. It would be nice to get into a broad reach with the main sheeted out and the yankee rather than the staysail. It’s a strong point of sail and enough downwind that we’re not fighting the world. With the waves slightly abaft it can be a little bit wetter in the cockpit. 

Speaking of wet, it did not rain on us. The weather passed by very near but we barely got any sprinkles.

Friday 5/3

Whew! What a night. James broadened us out a bit to keep us on course, which put us a little bit more beam to the waves. The occasional monster now hits us amidship and breaks into the cockpit. It’s not more than about once an hour, but it takes longer than an hour to dry out in the dark chill.

The temperature isn’t terribly cold, maybe 14-15° C overnight. That’s fine when dry…less so when wet. It’s totally different from riding my bike in freezing conditions because the exercise helped me stay warm. On the boat, I tuck into a safe and comfy spot so the most work I’m doing is bracing a leg or two against the heaving of the boat.

Speaking of which, I think this experience is helping me calibrate the wave heights in meters. The range for this area was forecasted to be 1.5-1.8m at 8-10 seconds. I think we’re getting the high end of the wave heights at the low end of the period. 

I’m trying to stop converting measurements and just understand “a meter” as the distance from my fingertips, pinched as though holding something, to the very end of the opposite shoulder. In the Azores, I calibrated temperatures between 22° and 9° C, especially that 15° to 18° that was so common. In India, I got a good feeling for 22° to 32° C. Following cooking instructions in liters and ml isn’t totally new and some US consumer goods are already metric (1l bottled beverages, for example), so that’s relatively easy.

Noon position: N 34° 50.713’ W 020° 31.240’
Distance noon to noon: 91.4 NM
Average speed: 3.81 kn
Trip distance covered: 273.5 NM
Distance to destination: 232 NM

Underway Still and Again

We left Praia da Vitoria on Ilha Terceira at about 1400 Wednesday the 23rd of April, 2024, and two days later (well, about a day and three-quarters) put the hook down off the island of Santa Maria, our final stop in the Azorean chain and not exactly a planned one.

Dena on the stick

After five months of (damn-near) static living aboard, we silently glided out of the marina and back into that one big ocean. It was incredible! It wasn’t kind, it wasn’t calm, it was fucking awesome!

Aloft at sea

The winds were a northeasterly 18-30 knots with a 2-3 meter chop across our port beam leaving the lee of Terceira, so a reef went in the mainsail just outside the harbor breakwaters with a full staysail and no yankee. The gusting got worse and the staysail got smaller, but that didn’t last long. We rocked and rolled…and I’m talking from sunset on!

Heading into night

The full moon was devoured by a thick gray-shield of cumulus that never gave us a peak of our local satellite. An ambient sky-wide light kept it from feeling like a new-moon night and made it easy to get around the little we moved on that first night of watches.

A LoveBot adventure

That first overnight was hard but doable simply because we were both so stoked to be underway again. The cat not so much.

Beluga Greyfinger on watch

As the sun rose, the winds abated and moved abaft so we furled the staysail and went mainsail alone for the rest of the adventure, clipping along at a respectable 3-5 knots.

Reefed mainsail alone off Sao Miguel

Shortly after leaving Terceira, I (James) got a text from my brother informing me that my sister had had a heart attack and was in a third-world Texas hospital with a grim prognosis. Just after that text, our internet went dark. We decided to sail as close to the island of Sao Miguel (airport with the largest number of flights to the US) as possible to pick up some internet signal and were surprisingly successful. Signal alone isn’t enough when waiting on someone to write you back, so I (Dena) used it to access weather. A good thing, too, because the not-fun-but-not-necessarily-dangerous 3 meters at 12 seconds wave forecast had been changed to 4 meters at 9 seconds.

That’s no go. I mean, not on purpose. We’ll handle it when and if we see it, but there was another weather window where we could follow the easing of the waves south. It’s a little painful to let such good winds go to waste, but waves do more to define the difference between a good and a bad sailing day. We respect that.

Santa Maria was bolt-hole number one, but with protection only from the north. Since this storm system was northerly and the internet had yet to yield news about James’ sibling, we sailed on.

Sao Miguel at a distance to port

Night two was sublime! The moon was bright, the sea state was kind, and the winds were light and steady for most of the night.

LoveBot still on watch

We do a strange watch schedule overnights. From 2100 to 0900, we do two three-hour watches each. From 2100 to 2400, Dena marveled at a moon-driven ‘Verse that plowed through a stratus-covered sky and, from 2400 to 0300, I was absolutely hypnotized by a moon-lit mainsail that was so bright it was almost impossible to look at directly.

Sometimes the only thing to watch is LoveBot Jesus-Beams off the port bow

On my second dog-watch, I had the pleasure of watching the sunrise on Ilha Santa Maria four times as we traveled up the volcanic incline of the island at the same pace as the sun rising. The spectacular jesus-beam dramatics were rudely interrupted by a sudden crack I felt in the tiller just after taking the helm away from LoveBot, our wind vane steering system. The tiller didn’t break away and leave us without steering control, but it did crack just under one of the tiller fasteners and we were still at least seven nautical miles away from the closest safe anchorage. That was about the time the wind kicked up to about force 6 with a potato-patch chop and banshees through the rig.

A bit freaked out but understandable

I pointed us to the anchorage and Dena took the helm at 0900 in a gusty fresh breeze. 

After five and a half months in a marina and an incredible sailing adventure lasting 43 hours and 3 minutes taking us 153 nautical miles, we dropped the hook in 8 meters of water on 60 meters of chain.

Our home

Safe and sound in the middle of the Atlantic Flow… underway still and again.

Terceria-Santa Maria Day 2

Dena’s 1700-1800 watch 

We got close enough to São Miguel to get some new weather forecasts. Now it really does look like we’d be better off stopping at Santa Maria tomorrow, waiting out Saturday’s bad swell, and then taking off again Sunday or Monday.

I am underway! I would prefer to stay underway!

Also, I don’t like the idea of 4 meters at 9 seconds any more now than I ever did. 

It’s hard to believe it’ll be that bad. Right now, we’re motor-sailing in F2, downwind. The sun is bright overhead after an overcast morning and it’s sensationally beautiful. 

We’re running the chartplotter, the tiller pilot, all the regular house loads (fridge, a couple lights, chargers), and the motor, and we seem to have enough power that we could maintain this pace (about 3 knots) forever. Once the sun goes down, we’ll be using from the banks rather than from the solar panels. We’ll make sure we leave a good safety margin and just wash along gently under main only if power gets low.

Dena’s 2100-2400 watch

São Miguel and the capital, Ponta Delgada, are receding more slowly than the last light. The only thing I would have gone there for? The only Indian food restaurant in all the Atlantic islands.

The moon will rise a little before 2230 and I’ll be watching for it. (And other vessels, of course!) There’s a thick cloud later ringing the horizon so it might happen a little late, but I can be patient. 

All the clouds are an ominous reminder that we’re doing something we try to avoid…racing to safe harbor ahead of storms. Since we’ll never be the fastest boat on the water, we arrive for good planning and I think we have plenty of time.

Dena’s 2100-2400 watch

The moon rose on the bow and I watched, fittingly, kneeling and leaning on the aft bulkhead in the cockpit. Out of the water, a bright ember appeared and grew as though being blown on. As the lower limb became clearly visible, the top was striped by clouds (who knows how much farther around the curve of the Earth they appear to be directly above). Soon, the whole moon was striated.

A thicker band above provided an upsidedown setting, even to that thrilling moment when the bright ember became completely hidden and all the background colors popped. 

I celebrated with a hard-boiled egg (salt, black pepper, and Cholula) and a few mouthfuls of water then tapped this into my phone to cement the experience. A second moonrise is in progress now, so back to my viewing.

I didn’t log anything else that night and, by the time I was on shift the next morning, we were in the bay we planned to anchor in. Enjoy this picture instead of more description!

Final position: N 36 42.359′ W 025 05.237′

Distance traveled: 68.7 NM in 21hr 42m

Average Speed: 3.17 knots

Terceira-Santa Maria Day 1

4/24, James’s 1700-1800 watch

We’re averaging about 4.5 knots on a beam reach, port tack, in a F4-5. The seas are busy but not terrible. It’s definitely something that’ll take getting used to again. 

All hail meclazine! I got a little unsteady in my stomach in my first off-watch, below deck. The last hour had been fine in the cockpit and now I’m lying on the starboard settee without queasiness. Beluga Greyfinger is a tense little lump under the covers in the forepeak. Poor kitty will be okay, but I’ll worry about him until he drinks, eats, and uses the litter box.

I took the boat out of the slip and, wow, that couldn’t have been easier. Cetacea is handling well despite not being able to clean her bottom. The new paddle for LoveBot is doing its job, and the rest of it seems no worse for a winter of disuse. The sails look good and set well. So far, so good on the gear.

James’s 1900-2000 watch

I’m already getting stiff from bracing against the boat’s motion. It’ll be ibuprofen for dinner, I guess.

On the other hand, I’m glad to be away…underway. I still hope we get propane in Lanzarote or Gran Canaria, but we may not be able to make enough east in the conditions that are coming. I’m not averse to the idea of skipping it for Cabo Verde except that running out of cooking gas partway to Brazil would be…bad.

4/25 Dena’s 2400-0300 watch

I’m beginning to get a little more poetic but I’m still pretty focused on the practicalities. The moon is full but the sky is cloudy, so it’s not fully dark but there isn’t that interest point in the sky. 

We’re rolling along pretty fast, still on the beam reach. The waves have gotten a little less bad? We’re doing 4.5 knots on average and the wind is a little lighter than when we started. It’s forecasted to come down overnight and especially at the beginning of the morning, but we’ll see what that actually feels like. I kind of hope to have enough wind to keep overcoming these waves instead of being washed around by them.

Beluga Greyfinger cuddled with me while I was trying to sleep. I didn’t succeed in getting any but it was nice that he wanted to be close. When I got up for the beginning of this shift he jumped out of the bunk and made his slow careful way to the litter box. That’s one body function down. Now let’s hope he drinks and eats and normalizes.

Dena’s 0600-0900 watch

Last night’s sunset was a step of light between the clouds and the water. This morning’s sunrise happened behind thick clouds over São Miguel. 

A fishing boat took hours to pass, always worth a little attentiveness in case they lay on the speed suddenly. Slightly less traffic than I’d expected, but that’s definitely fine with me.

The wind is down to F3ish, and we’re making enough lee that we are basically beating to get close to São Miguel. The last message James got when we were leaving was that his sister had a heart attack. It would be nice to get a wisp of signal for an update. 

Then we’ll turn a little downwind, and that should help with speed against the waves and reduce the amount of lee.

Noon position: N 37° 42.359’ W 026° 00.508’

Distance between 14:34 and noon: 84.1 NM

Average speed: 3.93 kn

John Barth is dead

On March 26th, 2024, the Francis Scott Key bridge in Baltimore was struck by a ship and destroyed in seconds. Exactly a week later, John Barth died. He had been in hospice for a while so I can’t help but think he might not have known.

…dude with a bridge

Like the aforementioned structure, Barth was synonymous with the Chesapeake Bay and more specifically Baltimore, Maryland. He taught at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore for many years and wrote some of the most incredible tales of the Chesapeake I (James) have ever read. I can honestly say that Professor Barth was the main reason I moved to the Chesapeake Bay in 2009.

Dena and I had been living in India for almost a year when we discovered a great deal on a sailboat in Norfolk, Virginia. We bought that boat (S/V SN Nomad) and sailed her up the Bay to Baltimore by the end of our first year. And we did that because we both (Dena and I) had spent the previous decade devouring the works of John Barth.

I was first introduced to the works of Barth in the winter of 1987, when a good friend (and marriage relation) found out that I was a big fan of “post-Modern” fiction. Dude went to his library and landed right on the B’s. He looked at me with a wry smile and picked out two books by an author I’d never heard of. The first one was “The Sot-Weed Factor” by John Barth and the second was “Giles Goat-Boy” by the same dude. He held both book in his hands as if weighing them, shoved “Goat-Boy” into my face and said, “This one first.”

I spent the next two months reading that book, whenever I wasn’t working on my own last year of manufacturing a bachelor’s of science in 35mm black and white photography, before my MFA era, and finished it in an agitated state of absolute infuriation. I must have looked at the photo of Barth on the back of that book a hundred times while reading it and, every time, all I could think was “motherfucker, you and I have nothing in common!”

At the time, I was the same age he was when he published his first novel. “Giles Goat-Boy” was Barth’s fourth work of fiction and I was still worried if my hair looked good. When I told my vaguely related lit-influence how angry I was after reading “Goat-Boy”, he said, “Don’t waste a single moment. Start ‘The Sot-Weed Factor’ now!” As testament to how much I trusted this guy, I did.

Deer up Swan Creek

I can honestly tell you that book changed my life. Not only did it change the way I perceived literature, it changed the way I read everything. I fell in love with my own mind while reading “The Sot-Weed Factor” and it was John Barth who showed me how to laugh at all the smart shit, not just the slapstick moments of being beshit.

I went on to live my life in all of its hilarity, Barth fading into my past with all the other works of comedy and tragedy that influenced everything I did.

Then on a cold dark winter’s day in the year of many zeros (2000), I discovered a copy of “The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor” in the Blaine, Washington, library book sale. I really did laugh at the fifty-cent price tag and read that one next.

…Ah Blaine

I (Dena) enter the story, self-consciously, as befits a Barth fan. James huffed and puffed and laughed and struggled not to share too much of what I’m not sure we were calling “spoilers” yet. When he finished it, he handed it to me and that steel-grey winter retreated before the ridiculous, sublime Chesapeake Bay that John Barth had written.

My own BA was not far behind me and I took on all kinds of books with aplomb. This one met me, though. I never felt lorded over or made fun of, though the tricks and treats do come in waves. I still remember thinking, feeling, that this was a man who actual knew a woman or two. Like, paid attention and respected and was irritated by and loved, even, a woman. Maybe more than one? Is that a thing? I thought.

Of course it is, I’d found my own. But Last Voyage does so much contextualizing of every fucking thing that nothing is only a metaphor or only a fact…every thing, and every person, is both independently real and a product of the minds engaging with it…her…him…

Then life happens, just like Barth himself said it would, it could, it does and it did…

Oh yeah…

We didn’t go back to him again until we were at last living in Barth’s Chesapeake. We somehow, I (James) can’t quite remember how, scored a copy of “Sabbatical, A Romance” right before setting off from Hampton, Virginia, to Baltimore in the harsh winter of 2009. Dena plowed through that book laughing and looking at me from across the saloon for the entire 366 pages…and I was jealous the entire time. When we read that book, we really got the fact that Barth was truly a sailor from the Chesapeake Bay. As a matter of fact, we used that book like an anchoring guide all the way up the Chesapeake.

Over the winter of ’09/10, we both read (what I refer to as) the three-part C.I.A. trilogy: “LETTERS”, “Sabbatical”, and “Tidewater Tales”. This represents about 2000 pages of this writer’s work and it completely changed the way I saw the art of fiction. Meaning, there is no such thing as non-fiction and everything is grist for the mill.

oh right, hear again

I (Dena) didn’t stop there. As the one with less familiarity and a faster reading pace, I swam in John Barth’s waters until I’d absorbed every bit of his work. Unlike Blaine, Washington, where his works were being sold for semi-bucks by the librarians who couldn’t talk anyone into checking them out, Baltimore used-book stores had Barth sections.

The oldies? I squirmed through but ultimately appreciated “Lost in the Funhouse”, thought Chimera deserved its National Book Award, found his first two good but dated, slogged through “Goat-Boy” with more appreciation than joy, and slurped up “The Sot-Weed Factor” like it was miso soup and I was getting a cold.

It’s grating to my readerly ear that Barth’s obits (though copious and in top-level famous-writer venues) spend so many pixels on the early works and so little on what I consider his period of humanly flowering. He was teaching and, reportedly, with heart and mind on the line. He’d watched enough change in the multiple estuaries that empty into the Chesapeake Bay to recognize, from his toes and his fingertips to his bright considerate mind, that ecology isn’t a buzzword. He used it and hundreds of other words to describe what it felt like to watch your birthplace degrade and be subsumed, put to evil uses, and discounted.

He also saw people exhibiting investment and determination and rejections of helplessness. He saw them in women who needed to carve themselves a place and found themselves off balance when they didn’t have to thrust and parry. He saw them in Chesapeake Bay sailors who started working on eelgrass and oyster projects and, with a careful and tense distance, in the protesters who fought the oppressive presence of the US Gov’t across those waters.

Literature can show you someone’s heart and mind if it’s done well. If there was a John Barth outside of, beyond, other than his writings, he is lost. I’m honestly not quite sure why that matters to me, but it does.

The writings, though. What does this collection of writings represent? What does it mean? What does it say?

It says what John Barth wanted it to say. He wrote and edited, taught and presented, and that is not lost. If he was a lesser man than the Author who let me in or a greater man than the person who struggled to make the stories hang together, we’re left with what he wrote. That’s a lot. It’s everything I’ve ever really had from him and it’s always been enough.

If you read one thing about John Barth, make it this: https://lithub.com/john-barth-deserves-a-wider-audience/

So we see that humanity, through the visions and writings of even one single brilliant lyricist and percussionist, is so much greater than anything our kind can build with our hands and machines. John Barth is dead but the bridge he built between us and our generations to come will ultimately be indestructible.

60’s

Wow, life!

When I (James) was in my 20’s I remember lying in the grass on a warm Texas summer’s night looking up at the stars at the immensity of it all and saying to my friend next to me, “I can’t even imagine living after 30!”

…after 30

My friend exploded with laughter yelling, “Here we are looking up at the infinity of space and time and you can’t even see past 30 years? What could possibly be wrong with living your life as long as you can to experience as much of the universe as possible?”

New grapes on a vine

From my current vantage of 60 times around the sun my answer to her would be a resounding, “absolutely nothing!”

…Kitties

Now granted, at the ripe old age of 24 I had already experienced a large part of the U.S., Europe and the Caribbean. I had lived through 2nd and 3rd degree burns on about 20% of my body. I had also somehow lived through a broken neck without any permanent paralysis, so my perspective on living was a bit skewed by the drama of trauma and the road well traveled.

…Ah,

But wow, life!

If I had given in to my own fatal expectations the incredible things I have witnessed in this life would have never existed at all. I wouldn’t have met my friend Dena, the most important influence of them all. I wouldn’t have been a pirate or a rock star in the 90’s in Seattle. I wouldn’t have experienced 10 hours of 40 ft following seas coming around Cape Mendocino. I wouldn’t have walked the halls of the Taj Mahal, the Red Fort or Fatepur Sikri. I wouldn’t have seen the Golden Temple or Kanyakumari. I would have never sailed in an ocean so blue it vibrated my eyes.

…my Love!

But wow, life!

…rock stars

Here I am, a full 30 years after my own self proclaimed expiration date, and I witnessed a brooding volcano in the middle of the Atlantic Flow of the Earth’s one big Ocean. I saw a progression of cows taking over a highway, I saw a few crazy hobbled goats, a partner whom I love and a kitty. But I also witnessed a universe that had changed so little in my entire 60 years that the sky above looked almost exactly the same.

Beluga Greyfinger at large

Oh, what the fuck. I might as well keep going.