Time on Water

With all the long and ever more complex lists of things to do on Nomadness, around the homestead (an upcoming blog on the garden project is in the works), for Camano Sail, and trying to keep an eye on the precision chewer/speed digger Zuben, I find myself overwhelmed. I stand around staring blankly at the dishes, the yard, the boat, the lab, and into my sweetie's eyes asking, "uh... what are we going to do today?" Thankfully, we have friends who are more sensible and invite us out for fun on the water on these long warm days of late spring.

Last month, we tried to get Nomadness from Oak Harbor over to Camano for a potluck with friends and to share the water with Adventuress but alas we didn't make it due to extensive biological growth on the hull. We did get it cleaned off by some spry young divers, and made a little venture around Saratoga Passage the following day.

And we have gone out kayaking off the west side of Camano in the past couple of weeks too. Steve and Bonnie were in the pedal powered Hobie kayaks, so they left me in their wake quite rapidly. But I enjoyed paddling around slowly, carefully, taking in the sights and sounds of gulls and gently breaking waves on the beach. It was a gorgeous day to expose Zuby to the kayak. He even got to swim for the first time. He isn't crazy about it yet, but I'm not giving up on making him a water dog! He sure looks cute in his PFD (which he is rapidly outgrowing)!

Awww....this and the previous photo by Steven Roberts.

I also spent a day with Lawrence and Bonnie moving She Oughter from the west to the east side of Camano Island. Lawrence had a three day charter by a company testing some new submersible robots. He needed to set a buoy so he would not have to relaunch each day. We spent the entire day getting the cars set for transport logistics, launching at the busy Camano Island State Park, setting two danforth anchors with the right orientation and depth in the uneven bottom of Port Susan, and hanging the buoy off them. It was quite an elaborate process, but it turned out to be a wonderful day on the water. And as is usual with working for Camano Sail, I learned a lot.

I am not a big fan of motor boats, but I had blast zipping around in this thing. Zuby didn't like the sound of motor when revved up to high RPMs and whined. Bonnie suggested that supersonic sounds might be hurting his ears, so we slowed down a bit and everybody was happy. This boat can be beached, and with the cool landing craft bow, you can step ashore like a princess and never wet your feet! Gotta love that! As far a motor boats go, this little boat is really quite cool. Made by Ottercraft of Kingston, Washington, it is rugged and functional. They are sturdy workboats used by the coast guard, tribal police, shell fish companies and more.

Captain Baum on She Oughter.

The main thing for me right now is to just get out on the water more. It is too easy to get sidetracked with all the "projects" and let the sunny days pass without getting a taste of why we're doing all this work in the first place!

Speed Diggin'

Zuby loves to dig, and I love the Brian Setzer Orchestra!

New Crew! Meet Zuby!

Puppy Love cures all. Well, maybe not all, but a heck of a lot. I couldn't get used to living without Lily. I missed having my little sidekick around. As my dear friend Molly put it, "Sky, you just need a familiar." She is right. I do need a familiar. As a woman who has chosen not to have children, I seem to need to find some outlet for my nurturing and mothering instincts. But, I not only missed my corgi companion, I missed the window she gave me into another world, the animal world. To see the world through the eyes of a pet is truly a wondrous thing that can bring us to place outside our busy thinking apparatus and inside the present moment.

My pets have always been amazing animals with developed personalities and complex relationships. Critters, if fed, cared for, and loved, can overcome their instincts and live peacefully with other species (more than we humans can do within our own species). This is the power of love. And the love grown between a human and a pet is a special manifestation, unlike any other.

So, in short, I just couldn't go on without another canine pal. Enter Zubenelgenubi (zoo-BEN-el-jeh-NOO-bee) a Miniature Australian Shepherd that we recently adopted from Underdawgz Rescue in Olympia.


He is named after one of the 57 stars used for celestial navigation which is something I someday wish to know more about. Zubenelgenubi is actually a binary star system in the constellation Libra. We've got some star charts and on the clear nights have tried to spot it, but haven't located it yet. We will.

Zuby, as we call him, is just a tiny little guy, the result of irresponsible breeding. At four months he just hit ten pounds. Breeders began selectively breeding smaller Aussies in the 1960's and 70's resulting in compact little shepherds under 18" tall. In recent years the Mini Aussie has become so popular that some folks have started making "designer Aussies" they call Toys. These tiny little dogs probably have other breeds mixed in to get them under 15 lbs. Since they could hardly do the job Aussies were meant to do - herd - they aren't really Aussies at all. Little Zuby is most likely the result of somebody breeding for small size over health, temperament, or purpose. Personally, I do not approve of this practice, but once the pups are here, they need love like the rest of us. We're hoping he'll grow up a bit, but will love him at any size.


There have been a lot of puppy mill busts here in Washington, and the horror of it would turn your stomach and break your heart. So please, I urge those of you looking for a new pet, go to a rescue, a shelter, or find a reputable breeder. Never buy from pet stores or online kennels that will ship you a pup, as there is no way to know the conditions from which the pup came. Most reputable breeders are very selective about the homes they send their pups to and would not allow their pups to end up in a store.


For those of you who don't know the breed, Australian Shepherds are some of the most intelligent, hardest working dogs out there. Bred for endurance, communication and herding both sheep and cattle, they have energy, brains, chutzpah, and stamina. This little fellow has the smarts for sure. He's already halfway through "Dog Logic: Companion Obedience" by Joel McMains. This book takes the standard, pack mentality approach to training. McMains loves and respects dogs, and it comes through on every page. Like any training manual, it is imperfect, but worth a read if you're new to dog training. And although Zuby cannot read, of course, he takes in a lot from the excellent illustrations.


Another wonderful book about human dog communication and the many misunderstandings that arise from our different use of body language and gesture, is Patricia McConnell's, "The Other End of the Leash: Why We Do What We Do Around Dogs." McConnell, PhD., has some great insight into the different interpretations of gestures between canine and humans.

At times, we also refer to our little pal as Dr. Genubi because he has the ability to cure my blues. His silly puppy antics are enough to mend any heart. Just look at that little pink tongue!


So for now at least there will be no need for antidepressants thanks to our new crew member. He's already adapted to the PFD (puppy flotation device) and getting good and wet. Soon we'll have him sailing. And in this household, we are ready to get back onto the water. Onward we go, Captain Steve, Number One, and Zuby-crew!

Our Legacy

Tears2 by gregizzlegabrizzle

With the recent passing of my canine pal and a life-threatening infection in my aging father's hip, I have a had a lot of emotional activity to observe in myself lately. To put it simply, I've been about as much of a wreck as I can be. To any outsider, I am equanimously handling each challenge with a modicum of grace, but internally... oh boy! I observe myself struggling to keep a rational perspective while tsunamis of emotion crash on my inner shores. It is fascinating to watch how quickly my thinker starts churning up fearful thoughts and negativity.

This may qualify as "navel gazing" to some, but now and then, when things get very intense, it enables me to step further back and look at myself and humanity from some distant stance beyond my own life. One of the observations that keeps popping up, is how very wrongly we live in respect to animals. I see how acutely I suffered the loss of my doggy, and I know that many many people feel as deeply toward their own pets. Yet, in spite of this indisputable bond we make with our pets, many of us go on munching bacon, fishing out the oceans, harassing marine mammals, enslaving elephants, chasing down wolves from helicopters, and so on. I personally do not participate in all of these activities, but we humans do. We are all part of the human family that has become shamefully dysfunctional in relation to coexisting with other species. In the same way we feel deeply for our own family or friends and protect them fiercely, we feel for our pets, yet dismiss and disregard the well being of other animals and peoples.

I am no history expert, but I think most historians would agree that the domestication of animals was a major leap in human social evolution. It started with partnerships. Wolves and humans competed for the same prey and teaming up was mutually beneficial. Later nomads started keeping herds of sheep and goats, which insured against starvation of the clan. Eventually plants and food source animals became domesticated by humans and were an important part of the fundamental shift to settled communities and the rise of civilizations. With this change in basic human behavior came change of diet, the introduction of infectious diseases, and a wide range of other biological shifts in human evolution. In short, when our relation to other species changed, we changed. I am, of course, drastically simplifying a very complex topic, but the point being, that the human relationships to animals has been a major factor in our development both socially and biologically. A decent article on domestication of animals and plants is posted here, and there are dozens of books on the subject.

Domestication of wolves began 13,000 years ago, but, where are we today? The way we raise much of our food is a shameful abomination. In truth it is so horrific that few can bear to honestly acknowledge where their food actually comes from. How did we go from partnerships with animals to the enslavement and torture of so many creatures?

I have a suspicion that there is another huge step in human/animal interaction that is already underway. Many of the beliefs we have held about animals are now being examined more closely and some even proven false. Assumptions that animals do not have memory, cannot plan, do not feel emotions, have inferior systems of communication, do not use/make tools, or sophisticated social contracts are all being scrutinized by scientists. The results are astounding, and to me, the seeds of a revolution. Birds can learn our language and actually communicate their desires to us. Crows make tools and use them to harvest food. Whales develop complex languages and communicate across oceans to set up meetings and share information. Elephants recognize and respond to skulls and ivory from their own species and are reported to show signs of extended grieving for lost family members. Moved by music, camels weep. Dogs smell disease in humans. Primates exercise self control and plan ahead. I could go on and on...

Of course folks will say that these achievements are a drop in the bucket compared to human achievement, but we must remember that we are also measuring these critters by human standards. If we were to measure humans by animal standards we would quickly see that we are inferior in many, many ways not the least of which is sensory perception.

See this film if you have not already!

I sometimes try to imagine how aliens would see humanity as a whole. Gurdjieff did this brilliantly in "Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson" and points out the absurdity of what he terms "process of reciprocal destruction." But what about the destruction of other species? I believe the effort to understand the intelligence of other species is a frontier that will yield nothing short of a huge evolutionary leap. So many of our technologies are weak efforts to do what animals do naturally and expertly: navigation, long distance communication, disease detection, architecture, flight, sonar, and the list goes on... if we have figured out how to do something with technology there is likely a counterpart in nature that has the ability built in.

What would our world be like if we truly cooperated with other species, letting each do what it has evolved to do? I for one, believe it would be far superior world. What arrogance has implanted itself in our hugely complex thinking apparatus that convinces us that we are superior to other creatures? Or more fundamentally, that we are separate? It is my wish to live to see the day we treat humans as humans and elevate animals to their rightful place of respect in our world.

Diamond Lily


Chimp Grin by Amp26

Miss Diamond Lil

Today was one of the saddest days of my life. My dearest friend, Lily, my sweet corgi passed to the next bardo. I am too emotional to be able to reflect fully on what she meant to me. I am fascinated by what animals can teach us, how they can work with us, and how they can heal our hearts. Soon I will post more on these thoughts, but for now an obituary of sorts.

Sunrise's Diamond Lily

Lily was an amazingly wise and loving animal. Throughout her many years, she played piano (see the video); worked with autistic children in both Olympia and Santa Cruz; herded chickens, ducks, sheep, cattle and small children; lived at twelve different homes with over a dozen other critters of various species; spent most of a summer on a sailboat just to make me happy; did a five month road trip zigzagging across the Rockies and camping under the stars; stayed in a upscale Lake Tahoe hotel; spent a weekend in the Santa Cruz Slammer; was a hot spring swimmer; had a great sense of humor and feigned vicious attack on the code words "politician" or "get dick;" competed in agility trials and won one; loved ice cream and popping balloons; placed third in a talent show competing with mostly Evergreen students; treated cats with utmost respect; cuddled with a hamster; enjoyed kayaking and swimming; never let a vacuum cleaner do the job she knew she could do better; nearly died of mushroom poisoning and tripped for days; survived an attack by a German shepherd; and most importantly was a wonderful companion who saw me through some very dark and rough times with loyalty and affection. Lily was quite a celebrity in Olympia; she even had many friends whom I didn't know. People would stop in the street to say hello to Lily. She met lots folks through her various caregivers and dog sitters, and once you met Lily, you never forgot her.

Miss Lil looked great, and was having fun playing in the snow and taking long walks to Boston Harbor Marina with her guardians Suzanne and Sebastian right up to and including yesterday morning. Then, Christmas night she suffered three seizures and wound up in an emergency room. We do not know what triggered the seizures, but for a dog her age and without a history of epilepsy, it was likely a tumor or blood clotting problem. The decision to let her go without suffering was painful, though not difficult. Today at around 1pm she was euthanized in my arms, quietly and without struggle. She will be missed by all who knew her. She truly was a little character and a bright light.

Well loved. Well lived.

Apples, Horses, Chickens, and Democrats

Tonight I am dehydrating bags of apples. Tomorrow I'll bake pies. It is time; the apples still hanging on the last late tree are crisp and ripe. I know from my one and only dehydrating experience that they should first be peeled. So I am procrastinating the long and tedious task that awaits me. I suppose I should use it as an opportunity for meditation. I'll get myself into a quiet place and then peel and core and slice. Peel and core and slice. Peel and core and slice with a heartful of love and the knowledge that someday, in some far off place, I'll eat my porridge, thankful for the little bit of home that sweetens it. This is intention. I can transcend today and reach out to tomorrow in the act of peeling and slicing apples. My grandma knew this, and I suspect grandmothers everywhere do.

The only other tree still fruiting has mealy, drab little bitty apples that aren't good to eat. Those we reserve for sweet Lola the gray mare down the lane. She runs to greet us when she sees us, knowing we are the new apple dispensers in the neighborhood. Like most horses, her scent is divine to me. Like perfume. Even her warm breath, vaporous in the cool afternoon, smells good to me. She nuzzles my palms the way only velvety horse lips can. Fall is magic. Horses are magic.

HORSES
Horses were a part of my childhood and one of the few appreciations I shared with my father. Lately, horses have been on my mind. I saw a post for a free horse while shopping at the Skagit Valley Coop in Mt. Vernon yesterday. The horse had been rescued after suffering a near fatal beating by some cruel ass. The rescuer had attempted to get animal control to take the horse, but they wouldn't for whatever reason. (?!) The kind and conscientious person ended up buying the horse to save its life. She even paid a vet to do emergency surgery, and is now offering the recovered horse to the right home. The horse, whose long sad face was pictured on the flyer with fresh stitches, no longer trusts men. The new owner must be a woman and have some riding experience. I thought. "Hey, that's me. I'm a woman. I've ridden. I'm the right home!" (For an animal lover this line of reasoning is automatic.) I've dreamed of living to see the day when we return to horses for transportation, and this would be my way to live by example. Now, that would be ultimately cool. Talk about retro! I'd just ride into town, tie her off and do a little shopping. Steve, synchronous in his own peculiar way, suggested lobbying the city council for hitching posts. "Somebody has to lead the way," I thought. Yeah, a horse. Why not? I thought about it with my left brain for a moment and reality hit. Our property is not fenced. That would be a big expensive project. Wait! I'm moving onto a boat. I can't adopt a horse for six months and then get rid of it. And surely I can't take a horse on Nomadness! It just isn't going to happen. Which brings me to chickens.


CHICKENS
Soon, Steve and I will be getting a small flock of young hens. We've been discussing the virtues fresh eggs and knowing where a little more of our food comes from. And of course, there's the soulful, beneficial stream of entertainment chickens provide as they scratch, cackle, strut and peck out their place in the universe. We've been browsing the net for coop plans, and walking the property to determine the best locale and how to keep them safe from predators. We both know there is a definite chance we will soon be gone indefinitely, and the hens will have to stay with whomever moves in, or be given away. Yet, I am so lonely for critters in my life, and Steve adores chickens. Who'd have guessed that? He claims he misses them. Plus chickens are a better investment than stocks or gold at this point. And my dog, Lily will thoroughly enjoy herding them around the yard. At fourteen, she deserves a few hens of her own.

As to the possibility of chickens on a boat... well, there is a tiny itsy bitsy sliver of possibility, right? I have always recognized my need to live with critters. Critters know their place. They are honest and true. They don't lie, or worry, or fret. Being with animals reminds me of who I am at a most essential level. In the mirroring eyes of my corgi or of a whale or a doe, I can see my animal self and also feel my humanity. I can distinguish my self.

DEMOCRATS
Yesterday I mailed in our ballots. I was adamant to get them in early and on paper. I hand carried them into the post office and made sure they were received by the one postal worker with a smile. When I left the post office, I passed the Democrats office, so I pulled in to pick up an Obama sticker. Better late than never, huh? (Besides it might bring some future generation a few bucks as a collectible someday. Now that's eBay thinking!) Anyway, I went in and volunteered to help on election day. Since I am not tied to a workday, I figure I can drive folks to the polls, or put out coffee for the voters, or do something useful. I guess I want to feel like I'm doing something to counterbalance my cynicism. Cynicism has been creeping into my heart lately, and try as I might, it seems to be taking root. Last night I actually lay awake for a couple of hours worrying about the election. The election! For those who don't know me--- I can usually sleep under almost any conditions. Heartbreak has kept me awake, but that's about it. For me to loose sleep over the idea of election fraud, is a HUGE sign that underneath my calm exterior something is boiling in my being. It is fear.

Fear is the enemy that lurks within. I don't remember who said this, but it smacks of truth. Fear is what they've been peddling to us for years. I don't like feeling manipulated. But then again, I don't want to look back and say, "I saw it coming but wouldn't admit it." So I admit it: I am afraid things could get much worse before they get better. I hope not, of course, but I see the signs. The writing is on the wall. But I choose to let this fear motivate me to dry apples and tend chickens while Steve puts a new watermaker on the boat. Besides, those apples and chickens and misty breathed horses are also my antidote.

Here

Funny how a change of scene can bring one back to something familiar with new eyes, fresh respect, and a deeper gratitude.

I am back home in the Camano forest where owl stutters his lonesome welcome and, in every corner, spiders have built long term complexes for raising their young. I am here, where the earth smells of mushrooms and cedar, here in the mud, knee high grasses, and thorny blackberry tangles still bearing for all they're worth. Here, I find so much that can nourish and support me.

I see a touch of irony in my desire to take to sea, where there can only be what one needs for a short term. On the water I concern myself with tasks of the day, or of the hour. I think of the day's meal, where to park for the night, which way the wind blows, how much water remains, and will we be safe tonight. But desire is desire and must not be denied. On the water life is fluid. Here it solidifies. I think of the longer term; I put food by, stock up on stuff, and stack up wood. I watch barrels fill with rain, and forage what's left in the orchard. I plan to make spirits, and gather good friends round me. Here, I listen to the calling of the great horned hunter of the night and feel at home. Owl has been near most nights since we returned, and once, he perched himself just outside the lab for a more direct encounter. I think he is letting us know "the plan is good."

Crabbing

One thing we've discovered on this shakedown cruise, is how ill-prepared we are to feed ourselves. We bought a great little Crab King coil away flexible crab ring that we throw over the side of the boat. If there be crabs in the waters, this thing will get 'em. Unlike the more professional pots you drop for hours or overnight in which the crab get caught, this is immediate gratification. We only left it down for a few minutes at a time. Buy one here for just $40 and be ready for next year. We used cockles and pork for bait, but I've heard they like chicken too. Isn't that weird? Crab like chicken. Poor chickens! Seems everything likes chicken.

Relationships

I witnessed this young couple and recognized myself in their behavior. Sometimes I can see unfavorable qualities in others that I do not want to acknowledge in myself. I offer this short video for the enlightenment of your own nature.

Otter play

Found this playful young otter on the docks at Port Ludlow. He is well known there by the staff who clean up after him at least once a day and have tagged him with an appropriate nickname.

Two summers ago at Port Hadlock I had the good fortune of seeing sixteen sea otters. A very rare sight. The sea otter was hunted to extinction in Washington nearly a hundred years ago for their fur which was "all the rage," as they say. Later, in the 1970’s, conservationists reintroduced sea otters from Alaskan populations. They have reclaimed these shorelines and are surely thankful for the clean water here.

This little fellow is more likely the common river otter which seem to enjoy the salt water shallows.

I haven't really mastered the video thing yet, but thought I'd give it a go. I hope to do more video work as we travel about, but there is quite a learning curve to overcome.




Cormorants

Although very common, there is nothing ordinary about these magnificent dark birds. They are excellent fishers and highly adaptable. They are said to have a penchant for vomiting when threatened. (I have considered using this method myself, but luckily, it has been a long time since I have felt threatened!) People blame cormorants for declining fish populations; these long necked black birds are the bane of fish farms everywhere.

I found this elegant bunch lounging about in the trees around Eagle Harbor.



What interests me is that here, in America, fishermen and aquaculturists shoot cormorants or employ other lethal methods of taking out the competition they sometimes refer to as "the black plague." Meanwhile conservationists boast the increase in populations of a species previously on the brink of extinction. They are the topic of much controversy in Europe as well, and each nation seems to have their own attitude about the bird. A good article has been published by the Science Daily about the varying approaches to these birds.

In China, however there is a traditional method of fishing that claims one good cormorant can feed an entire family. At night, fishermen shine lights over the water to attract fish to the surface, then use a cormorant tethered by a ring around its neck to catch the fish. Because of the ring, the bird cannot swallow and thus spits up the fish whole. After enough fish have been caught for the night, the fishermen release the noose and let the birds eat. It must be quite a sight to see these men navigating their bamboo boats at night across the water, with the great black birds perched on their boats awaiting the signal to dive!

And as for fish farming, it seems, like many profitable endeavors, a good idea has turned into a disaster. I am currently reading "Bottomfeeder: How to Eat Ethically in a World of Vanishing Seafood" by Taras Grescoe. Eye opening! He addresses health, ecological, social, and ethical issues surrounding the food we eat and how it gets to our tables. In one example, he sites a case where a single piece of salmon traveled over 22,000 miles before making it to a dinner plate! If you love seafood and want to make informed choices, I highly recommend this book.

The Great Dane and Other Salty Dogs!

Since I got my first post up, I have already had questions about my corgi pooch, the sweet, sweet, loyal and multi-talented Diamond Lily.


Unfortunately and quite sadly, I have had to leave her on land. At 14, though spry as ever, she simply is not up for the seafaring life. She now lives with a best friend, Suzanne, her toddler, Basi, and a trembling little fox terrier named Bellaboo.


I have cried endless tears over leaving her, but the Lilster is happy with her family in Boston Harbor. At the marina store they call her by name where is known as Lily Langtree and seems to have evolved a life of her own as just another one of the colorful characters.

Speaking of colorful characters, we have met a few of them on the docks of the ports we have visited. In Eagle Harbor, Bainbridge Island we hobnobbed with the ever interesting inventor, Charlie Faddis and his wife, TJ who runs the Historic Lynnwood Theatre, and their extended family. And there was Rich, the salty live aboard on the strangest, yet most elegant ferrocement ketch I've ever seen. He had many tips on docking "a big girl." For couples he had the following advice, "You put the woman at the helm. She usually has a better driving record, and she's rarely strong enough to catch the boat on a dock. Let the more athletic man do the hard physical stuff." Good sound advice, however, I am no where near ready to drive this giant 18 ton steel womb into a marina full of fancy schmancy yachts! Hey, I'll even flash my titties (if need be) to get the dock angels to materialize and help catch our lines, but I'm not driving. Nope. Not yet anyway. In time. For now I am content to blow kisses from the bow to those who help us make it in or out without involving insurance companies. This boat seems to be a real challenge to back up. Bow thrusters, as decadent as they may have seemed to me in the past, sound a bit more reasonable with each close call.

The most delightful fellow thus far was Scotty, the seventy something grinning dock walker who appeared to expertly catch our lines and pull us in against the winds of Boston Harbor. He's a regular there, and knew of our arrival even prior to our VHF call to the marina. He claimed a girl with a couple of little doggies (Suzanne) told him to watch for a big black sailboat. Before we had finished cleating Nomadness to the dock, Steve asked if maybe we should haul her back to take up less space. You know, as a courtesy to other boaters? We didn't want to be the assholes who take up two parking spots. To this Scotty replied in his thick, melodic accent, "They mess around with the chihuahuas and move them about, but they won't mess with the Great Dane. And in this circumstance, I'd say you are the Great Dane!" And he was right. In fact when my pal, Jib, called to say he was doing a sail by, he commented, "Damn, girl, you've got the biggest mast in the Harbor!" To which I quipped, "I know."

We have a running joke about Nomadness being "The Great Dane."

Now a dachshund non sequitur.


These are Max and Teddy, companions to Steve and Tammy, a sailing couple who took their 50' ketch Skybird three quarters the way around the world. Tammy has a book out about the adventures and new blog too. They live in Boston Harbor.