The bitter darkness outside lacks sunlight and warmth. The darkness inside reeks of something mean and sharp edged, heartless. You can sense its power to rend jagged holes in your psyche by creeping across your skin and through your bones. It slices at my sense of adventure while taunting and molesting my sensibility. It is what I dislike and run from at every opportunity—It is cold weather.
I am frigging freezing my butt off, friends.
We skittered out of Baltimore like a blowing leaf in autumn and landed first in Solomons then juked down the bay to Portsmouth attempting to clear the Chesapeake before the winds stuffed us into a hidey hole. Instead we traveled in the protection of the Dismal Swamp to Elizabeth City to take refuge only to find a week of projected winds and cold so we took a chance on the sometimes treacherous crossing of the Albemarle Sound in 15 knots of wind chasing us with 2 ft seas combined with a 2-3 ft swell on our beam which produced a snotty corkscrewed roll for two hours and finally hit the Pungo Canal where we now lie in the Pungo River safe, tired and FRIGGING COLD.
I don’t like being cold and swathed in three and four layers of clothes. I don’t like the ripping hard-bladed wind cutting at my face and hands. People are not designed to be cold. They are built to be naked and comfy warm. (no visuals, please)
My world is bitter cold and gray. The sky flint colored with mean short stubs of layered clouds, the water an oily gray and the nights dark and windy. My world is presently Bleak. Desolute. Colorless. Misery loves company and we have a buddy boat, AVALON with Mark & Joanne to share our whining and wine. But they are from Maine and not all that sympathetic with our plight. Never-the-less good company.
But do not cry for me. I can whine for myself easily enough. Besides, soon enough I will be basking in the sunny goodness of a Bahamian beach front bar while many of my friends will continue to sulk in the cold north wind.
Extremes are the way of cruising, one day of indescribable light and goodness another day one whining about living in a scene from Cormac McCarthy’s dreadful imagination. Wonder if its above freezing in Oriental, NC our stop tonight.
