San Diego Sojourn – Part I

A thousand pardons to all my loyal fans who must be wondering where I have been. I will explain. First, I would like to say that there is no truth to the rumor that I was kidnapped by the new Progressive Majority on the City Council and held as a sex slave in a basement somewhere in Sam Hughes.

WARNING: The following paragraph contains religious references, and assumes a metaphysical reality. Hypersensitive secularists are advised to skip to the next paragraph.

Many see sailing as a hobby, or as a pastime for wealthy trust fund inebriants like Ted Kennedy. Actually, sailing is a form of worship, a type of saptah where the yin/yang, Shiva/Parvati, man/woman, skipper/boat duality dances with air and water – the two elements necessary for human life. In this way, one can honor the mundane world while worshiping the Lord.

It was with this understanding of sailing, that I planned a trip to San Diego.

I have been captivated by the sailing concept since High School. I never had the wherewithal to pursue it until 1989, when I had some money and no job. I bought a boat, put it in the Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California), and learned to sail while doing a Jimmy Buffet impression – good work if you can get it. After about ten months I returned to Tucson penniless, and was compelled to sell the boat to pay some back taxes – but that is another story. Sailing changed back from a reality to a dream.

Fifteen years later, this last spring to be precise, I had an epiphany. I realized that I needed to be on the ocean under sail. Suddenly, everything started to make sense, order sprung from chaos, and I could see clearly. The way of the sail must be recovered from the dream state.

I contemplated this challenge, and all its possible approaches. I must say that I have responsibilities that preclude sailing over the horizon, and, as with anybody, I experience the greatest joy in fulfilling my duties. So, should I build a boat, buy a boat, how big? Big enough to sail over the horizon, or small enough to be pulled by my truck? I went ‘round and ‘round with these ideas (I even purchased construction plans), before deciding on the charter approach.

The charter route was the shortest course from Tucson to the Pacific, so I arranged to test-out of the basic certification, then take a two-day class for the next level, which would qualify me for boats up to thirty-two feet.

Arrangements were made, and on Friday, December 16, 2005, I split for the coast.

TO BE CONTINUED