by Ray Jason
One of the great joys of my sea
gypsy life is the ease with which I can alternate between solitude and
camaraderie. Scattered about the Archipelago
of Bliss are many friends living on the shore or on their own islands. They often invite me to come and anchor near
their home and hang out for a few days.
I frequently do so. These are
always delightful interludes.
But when the lonesome call of
contemplation beckons me, there are many empty lagoons where I can linger
alone. There, my only companions are the
creatures of the sea and the sky and my books and my thoughts. But occasionally I will be joined by another
sailing boat that is – how can I say this – different. Most people would describe them as “outlaw
boats,” but I consider them “emancipated boats.”
These are sailors who do not bother
to check in with the authorities, but who wander the Wide Waters as sea
vagabonds without a country. I can
easily ascertain this by making an offhand remark about how easy and
inexpensive it is to clear into this particular country. If they agree with that assessment, I know
that they have not actually checked in, because it is neither easy nor
inexpensive to do so here. Then I will
make another casual remark about the “unfettered freedom of the cruising life.” Usually, at this point our eyes will lock
and they will know that I know.
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