sailing adventures

A New World

A New World

In an environment as ancient as the sea, inspiration is abundant and the resulting artforms and creative potential are infinite. In ten years of wandering and pondering, I have forgotten more ideas than I could possibly count. Indeed, some of those were pipe dreams, fleeting inspirations, or preeminently doomed failures. Others have fallen gracefully into place from the moment of their conception. I have tried to maintain integrity throughout this process of creative expression. Once dedicated to a project, it has always been of paramount importance and a question of my honor to carry that work to its completion.

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. XIV

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. XIV

It would take them eight hours, two glasses of wine, and a valium to sleep away the passage that had taken me thirty days.  There was something wildly unsettling about that.  So many humans on this big blue planet and most of them have never been out to sea.  However easy it was to get to the other side of this great ocean, the distance did nothing for their souls.  They would never know what it is to take a reef in pure darkness while being battered by wind and rain.  They would never know the joy of the sunrise that follows the gale.  They would not heed the muffled screams in the back of their own minds, calling them to abandon this illusion and journey far and away.  They were doomed to be passengers, sleeping through life while someone else steered the ship…

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. XIII

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. XIII

Peter Pan’s shadow is not the playful bedtime story that it seems to be.  The demons of his past boil to the surface as a never-ending froth to be skimmed from the purity of existence.  Every glimpse at the broth below reflects the distance and the growth remaining to be bridged.  To confront one’s self is the greatest challenge in life…

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. XII

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. XII

I suppose in the hierarchy of life, all of us are searching for something.  Society has come to adopt so many prerequisites to our individual quests that we are intrinsically distracted from the fulfillment of our purpose.  In our collective and unbending course for the Promised Land,  we all find unexpected detours…

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. X

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. X

Until three o'clock in the morning, the rum flowed.  Music was provided by one of the village elders who commandeered my guitar and played the only song he knew many times over.  Intermittently, we would interrupt him with big rhythms on a large drum which must have created an eerie vibration at the yacht club meeting across the bay.  None of its members came to investigate the source, but given the nature of human curiosity, it was undeniable that somewhere very near, someone realized that they were at the wrong party.

In Search of Promised Land Pt. IX

In Search of Promised Land Pt. IX

The three amigos all went to our own wallets, quickly discovering that between us, we had twenty-three wrinkled, sweaty dollars to our names.  There wasn’t a bank around for tens of miles, and it was up to me to go and smooth things over with the little old sailors.  I climbed over the fishing vessel and took the dirt road toward their house wondering what I would possibly say to make our meager offering equal a day’s work.  When I arrived at the door, Serge answered and welcomed me inside once again.  As I looked into his deep seafaring eyes, I realized that there was nothing I could say to make this right...

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. VIII

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. VIII

Our final days in the Pacific Ocean were filled with bliss, introspection, and a quiet excitement for the journey to come.  There were thousands of ocean miles in our wake, and we had become more than a crew.  We were a family.  Each of us looked out for the others as a brother or sister and we shared a profound trust.

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. VII

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. VII

I’ve always been fond of the phrase, “Be careful what you get good at.”  Had I thought of it at the time, I may have been more cautious.  Youth and innocence are a fog of their own and I was overcome by them.  I wanted, more than anything, to know the feeling of being one with the sea.  I wanted to see her nuances in the distance, to anticipate her moods and movements, to feel connected to every horizon.  I wanted to be a goddamn pirate captain of the twenty-first century.

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. VI

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. VI

I guess if you’re trying to cross the Pacific in a raft, it’s best not to be distracted by a girl in a bikini on a million dollar yacht.  All of us in life must make decisions that define our path.  Destiny after all, is a fancy conjunctive of action and circumstances.  None of us can truly know the struggle of another, but we all share in the great human enigma.  The fragmented feelings and moments of many are all one great story in the end.

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. V

In Search of the Promised Land Pt. V

The place was something out of a Tarantino movie.  All manner of dirtbags and vagabonds were present.  Bikers, surfers, travelers from all over the world were mixed at tables around buckets of beer.  Santana came blaring out of one massive monitor in the corner of the place.  The Wild West was alive and well in Barra Navidad, Mexico.