The Great Marine Sequester

You would think, living on a boat, that the time of Quarantine wouldn't really be all that big a thing.  I mean, we're used to the small space, used to being off the dock and away, surrounded by water and our own thoughts, for days or weeks at a time.  We're self sufficient, can generate our own electricity, we can fish, we're both great cooks.  I mean, the peace and quiet alone is worth the hassles, right?

But here's the thing:  This isn't normal circumstances.  If we're feeling a bit boat-bound we can't just pop down to the local pub for a drink and a dinner.  We're having to limit our shopping to stay safe, and we're loading the larder with far more than the market shopping we usually do, and that's changing what we cook and how we cook.  It's an odd time.

Social Distancing anyone?

You would think we'd just load up the stores and head out, spend a few weeks cruising or on the hook, and get shed of crowds and the possibility of infection, but a couple of things have given us pause:  First of all, what if one of us comes down sick?  Or both?  How would we manage getting to a port?   How much help could we count on on the water?  Second, if we had a breakdown, in normal times, I'd just call up marine towing and get dragged back in, but is that still working?  Is it still working everywhere? 

You see the dilemma. 

So we determined, for the moment at least, to stay in dock (and largely on the boat) and shelter in place rather as if we WERE out on the hook.  It gives us, at least, the opportunity to take walks and go ashore and stretch a bit.  We've also taken here among the liveaboards to having "cockpit parties", otherwise known as you stay in your cockpit and we stay in ours a discrete distance apart and have a libation in the afternoons while conducting rather overloud conversations from boat to boat.

Well, at least it's social contact without. . .well. . .social contact.

This enforced pause has given us the chance to do a bit of maintenance on the boat and complete a few projects, but I do confess to finding the whole situation enervating.  Maybe in a few days we'll restock the larder and just putt up the bend and anchor out for a bit just for the change of scenery.

Magellan, as usual, has the right idea.

When all this is done, I sincerely hope things DON'T go back to normal.  That "normal" is what got us into this mess in the first place, with the greed and toxicity of our culture poisoning everything it touched.  As I sit here in the Middle River, the water is as clean as I've ever seen it.  The air is sweet,  the Ospreys have just come back for the season and are filling the air with their familiar shrieks.  I hope when this is over that we remember just how important life is, and how important this world is.

nuff said.

Be safe

M