Changes

If ya wanna talk about the English archers against the French chevalier at the Battle of Agincourt, Tom’s your man. He can also make a mean Irish stew and can race sailboats. He’s a psychologist and pretty damned smart. He’s one of those guys you turn to when you need an answer to a question. 

So, Tom and I were out in my shop working on these little one meter sailboats we occasionally race when non sequitur me asks “Tom, how can fairly intelligent people believe all this weird crap that makes no sense at all in view of the facts?”

Now Tom’s first reaction in much of our conversations is thinking “Now where the hell did that come from? But, he’s used to the way my mind works being a psychologist and all.  Its too bad we’re in the post smoking era because at this point he should be drawing on a pipe, considering the question. Instead he asked me a few questions to make sure he understood what I’m asking and then answers.

Here I’m gonna paraphrase Tom’s answer the way I understood it. He said that when people are confronted with new information, their minds try to organize it in view of what they already accept as truth. He gave me an example of “blue-blocker” sun glasses. When you first put them on the sky looks bluer, the trees greener and the word slightly different than normal. After a short time your mind re-calibrates and things look normal again. In other words, your mind alters what you’re seeing to fit comfortably with its existing reality. 

One night I was rocketing across Japan in a Shinkansen bullet train with a small delegation of people who were attending the “Come Back Salmon” conference in Sapporo on the island of Hokkaido in northern Japan. One of my traveling companions was Claire a noted environmentalist. We were talking about how people change.

Claire had spent five years in Chad in the Peace Corp. When she finally came back home she had a feeling on “not fitting in” much the same as when Becky and I had when we came back from teaching five years in the Arctic. Being curious, she wondered about this feeling, looked into it, and someone gave her this answer, which I again paraphrase.

When we grow up, we acquire a set of behaviors and understanding with which we use to interact with the world. When we are immersed in a completely different culture one of three things happen. One, you look at your new environment and attempt to retain your current beliefs and behaviors. Second, you accept some of the new culture, and retain some of your existing “set.” The third possibility is that you “go native.” Each one of these choices may be different, but in the end you no longer have your original “set” with which you interacted with the world. The result is you no longer accept the behaviors that you considered perfectly normal before you left. You are different, you’ve changed.

A little over a year ago Becky and I, both now in our 70s did a radical change with our diet. We went totally plant based. Now I won’t bore you with the details of that other than a strange thing that happened along the way. I’ll get to that in a moment.

During my life I’ve killed quite a few critters. Starting at age 14 I was a commercial salmon fisherman and I participated in harvesting salmon from the ocean. I went crabbing with my dad and later went crabbing myself. When we lived in the Arctic I killed caribou and moose which provided our meat for the winter. I remember gutting a caribou at thirty below and warming my hands in the offal as I worked to quarter it and get it in the sled.

So, back to the plant based diet thing. Now, for the first time in my life I’m starting to question the ethics of killing other critters to eat them. I’ve always accepted thats just how things are.You kill things and eat them. Its the American way. I’ve always thought people that were involved with organizations like PETA were a little bit, ummmm, strange, at the very least not manly at all.

Change can be difficult, sometimes funny. Another friend was in the Peace Corp in the Philippines where he was working with the mountain tribal people trying to protect their lands from the encroachment of civilization. He told me the following story.

A Catholic priest had come to the mountains and had ended up going “native.” The kindly father had taken a wife and had a couple of kids. He’d ride around the mountain on a horse in military surplus camouflage with a pistol on his hip, making a modest effort to convert the native people to the true faith. 

He and his family lived in a small house that was divided into four rooms with doors between each. His wife would stretch a strand of bamboo across the open doorway upon which she would hang clothes to dry. One day the good father was playing with his son, chasing him from room to room. Not paying close attention, he ran through a doorway only to be clotheslined by the bamboo strand. It gave him a vicious cut on his mouth.

When people would ask what happened to his mouth he would say “I cut it on the Bishop’s zipper.” People loved the story, everyone except the Bishop that is, to whom if was eventually relayed.

The good father was called in for a conversation. 

“You’ve been telling people you cut your mouth on my zipper!” cried the Bishop.

“It was a joke. No one cares, relax”

“No one cares? I care!”

The lowly father looked at the Bishop and said “Oh F#@k you”

“Oh F#@k you, Oh F#@k you? I AM THE BISHOP! F#@k you!!!”

Our father was quickly shipped to a facility in Texas to have his demons cast out. God only knows what happened to his family.

I guess you can say change can be healthy or in some cases, like the good father, it can have unexpected consequences. These unexpected consequences can take a lot of different forms, like all of a sudden I’m questioning the ethics of killing critters to eat them. I have to admit this this change of mind set was enhanced by seeing all the videos of animals on YouTube with anthropomorphic characteristics.

In spite of it all I don’t think anyone would let me join the vegan club because I still have leather belts and leather shoes and I don’t have any plans to swap them out any time soon.  Still, you never know.

By now you’re probably asking yourself, “What the hell is Richard on about?” Frankly, I’m not sure myself. I think its mostly about the people curious enough to fight their mind’s propensity to keep things defined by their past experiences. Its about people who have decided their past doesn’t have to define their future.

So, this evening, as we’re moored in the inner harbor at Nanaimo on a warm May evening listening to the buskers, performing up on the promenade I lift my gin and tonic in salute to everyone who has ever tried to make a change their “set.” Isn’t it fun not being, in the words of Pink Floyd, comfortably numb?

Becky Bounces, Ouch

We cruised into beautiful Gorge Harbor, tied up, and I went to pay for the moorage. On my way back a man waved me to hurry up. There was Becky, holding her hand up with her finger at an odd angle. We hauled out the first aid kit and splinted her finger. As we were splinting it, the knuckle “popped” back into place. There were cuts and abrasions that needed attention on both her hand and knee. Now she is resting comfortably in an easy chair with Laurie and I treat her like a princess. (As we should commented Becky royally)

She had been getting off the boat to hook up the electricity when she stumbled. To keep from falling head first she leaped onto the dock, took a couple of wobbly steps and crashed onto the dock. Her hand and knee took the brunt of the fall.

Now, with a load of ibuprofen aboard she is feeling better and wondering if a glass of wine might accelerate the healing process. She didn’t appreciate it when I told her “maybe not.”

Lord what a difference a day makes

With apologies to Diana Washington, a day makes such a big difference in weather. Late in the afternoon we crossed Comox Bar in a strong southeast wind. My entire focus was keeping the boat lined up and not drifting from the shallow “channel” onto the bottom. Ella does not like to have her tummy scratched. The next morning we leisurely motored across the same bar with barely a ripple.

“Channel across Comox Bar.

Early morning calm crossing the bar.

Wandering About

I’ve been chasing down a leak in the steering system. I’m not sure if this is going to slow down the leakage, but I did a repair with “emergency repair tape.” Tomorrow we’ll do a short run over to Gorge Harbor to see if this slows down the problem. Isn’t boating a lot of fun?

Ganges

Ganges Harbor on Salt Spring Island.
If you get a chance to visit Ganges, do it. If you arrive by boat stay at Kanaka Dock. I don’t recommend the one directly to the east of it.

The Fire Went Out

Relaxing on the floor, having lot of fun tearing apart the stove.

Yesterday at the fuel dock we had to turn off our diesel cooking range. It had been acting kinda funky, sooting up and not burning right, but I figured it was like me, old with a bit of fire gone out. Unfortunately, it was more than that. With Herculean effort we could get it to start, but it would soon go out. I knew that if I got up early, put some effort into it, I would have it going by breakfast. You may find this hard to believe, but I was wrong.

First I checked the fuel flow from the oil tank attached to the carriage house roof. Then I checked the fuel flow in the galley. All good so far. Next, I checked the flow coming out of the carburetor. Nada.

This called for action. I needed a new carburetor or more accurately a fuel flow valve. I thought they might have one at Lummi Fisheries Supply in Bellingham, or worse case up in Surrey, BC. I had to get to the mainland. It was seven in the morning and the ferry left Orcas at 8:40. There is no cell phone service here and the store at the marina wasn’t going to open until nine. I was 12 miles from the ferry landing. I hit the road walking.

I stuck out my thumb. A half dozen cars went by and then pulled to a stop. “Hop in, where ya going?”

“I’m trying to catch the morning boat to Anacortes.”

Thus, was my introduction to Cal McCallum. “I been livin’ on this island for over 90 years.”

Cal is actually 93 and a retired school teacher. Wow, what a person, sharp as a tack and a fine driver. Those 93 years have been gentle with him. We had a good talk, swappin’ stories and talkin’ about teaching.

“Well, this is my turn, it ain’t far now.”

One more ride and I made the ferry. A call to my young friend Jay Ryan, if 52 can be called young, and he offered to haul my sorry self up to LFS in Bellingham where I had located the needed part.

So, I finally got back aboard the boat and ripped into the stove, only to find I couldn’t reuse the compression fittings for the new copper tube I’d bought. So, tomorrow I need to located 3/8″ compression fittings and put the stove back together. I’m hoping they might have them here on Orcas at East Sound.

I had hoped to be in Ganges tonight, but its not to be. Tomorrow is another day and with any luck I’ll solve the problem.

I have several messages wondering why the little blue dots weren’t moving on the InReach map. Including from my buddy Bobby Dolan up in Petersburg who was about to head off halibut fishing.

I can’t predict what tomorrow will bring, but then none of us can. I can hope that it will bring a nice warm stove however.

Deer Harbor

Looking toward shore at Deer Harbor

Snuggled down out of the wind

Today was a relatively short trip. We weren’t able to leave LaConner until 11:00. Our first stop was the fuel dock at Anacortes. We topped off our fuel tanks while our son Nick came down to wish us well. Erin Ryan also came down to wish us a safe trip. We arrived here in Deer Harbor around 4:30.

It was a bit windy today but because we were moving between the islands there wasn’t much of a sea running to bother us.

Tomorrow we’ll travel the 14 miles over to Bedwell Harbor and clear customs and then head up to one of our favorite places in the Gulf Islands, Ganges.

Fixing this and that

Ella Marie tied up in La Conner, waiting for her tender.


As I mentioned, Ella’s tender is off for an unexpected repair. We think the RIB will be back tomorrow. In the meantime there has been lots to do.

Today the big task was removing the electric head and tearing it apart. It had been leaking around a seal and that wasn’t acceptable. My first attempt at a fix didn’t fix the problem, so today I was into it big time, completely removing it, inverting it and redoing all the seals. So far, so good.

The sun plays hell on varnish, so when the RIB had to go for repair I got out the heat gun and stripped the varnish of the transom and gave it a couple of coats to protect it. It still needs several more coats, but that will have to occur when we’re at a quiet anchorage.

This past week Mike the Mechanic came and sorted out the generator and checked some suspicious connections. Hopefully everything will keep holding hands.

Another update tomorrow.

Scrambling

With the RIB still being repaired, we’re using the “extra time” to fix all the little odds and ends on the boat. Becky and Laurie ripped out the old stained carpet and have been putting down new carpet tiles. My friend Jim Rowley had suggested carpet tiles so that individuals could be replaced if needed instead of ripping up the entire flooring.

My jobs today are fix the main toilet, paint POR15 on the front of the engine, and work on refinishing the transom. I do love wooden boats, but they are a huge amount of work.

A Little Tender

Ella’s tender being lifted out of the water. Andy Crawford, RIB expert is at the crane controls.

It was a tender kind of day. First, we sent off Ella’s tender with Andy Crawford to ferret out a pesky leak. He also tried to start the trusty Honda Twenty, that ALWAYS starts didn’t. So, we’re facing a bit of a delay. It’s not a good thing to go wandering around the inside passage without a good tender.

The other tender was the Lovely Rebecca. On the way down from the carriage house, carrying something, her feet decided to accelerate forward when she had every right to expect them to remain where placed. So, now various limbs, etc are….of course…. tender.

Tender thoughts to you all