by Ray Jason
 |
| Photo of AVENTURA by Tor Pinney |
The building of boats is one
of the earliest chapters in the book of human history. Tools and fire and dugout canoes were all
essential to the beginning stages of the voyage of humanity. And lazing about in the Archipelago of Bliss,
keeps me directly connected to this heritage.
Every time a weathered Indio sells me a fish from his cayuco, I am
looking down at a hand-carved canoe whose design harkens back even further than
the Pyramids.
This pleases me. For I believe that a philosopher’s task is to
seek out that which is elemental and enduring; and discard that which is
artificial and ephemeral. My job is to distinguish
between events that are only important in the moment and those that are
genuinely momentous.
But often this is an
emotional burden. My last three essays,
which examined the Social Engineering that almost invisibly controls our
existence, left me saddened and depleted.
So I have decided to let my senses and mind wander around my little ship,
and rejoice in how splendid she is - both tangibly and symbolically.
*******
Here, at AVENTURA’s
navigation station, there is a brightly polished brass oil lamp that would have
blended in nicely on Captain Cook’s ship.
A few feet away there is a sextant similar to the ones that guided the
Clipper Ships around Cape Horn. And in
the cockpit there is a magnetic compass that is not much different from the
ones I used in the U.S. Navy. I treasure
them all because they are tools passed down the centuries. They are physical manifestations of The Old
Ways, and they still work – brilliantly.
But I am not so stubbornly
traditional that I completely forsake The New Ways. Onboard there are also electric lights and a
GPS and radar and a wind generator and solar panels. These are perfect examples of the concept of
“appropriate technology” as advanced by E.F. Shumacher a few decades ago. They are appropriate because they are
utilitarian. When Mother Ocean becomes tempestuous,
it is prudent and wise to have the right equipment to survive the wrong
conditions.
And speaking of the wrong
conditions - or the terrors of the tempest – one of the great joys of this sea
gypsy life is the utter exaltation that one feels after the waves subside and
the wind slackens. Exposing oneself to deep sea danger is in stark contrast to
our coddled society that is so unwilling to take risks. When the wind starts to shriek in the
rigging, you will most certainly be “triggered.” And your only “safe space” will be your
physical and emotional capacity to deal with it. But the reward of feeling truly self-reliant
is worth the ordeal.
At Sea you are truly in
Nature. You are not just in National
Park Nature. And you are not just
visiting it - you are metaphorically and literally immersed in it. This is so vital and yet so rare in our
modern world. We have been profoundly
deceived with the myth that we humans have “conquered” Nature. But two nights in a gale will reaffirm how
impotent and fragile we are when Nature asserts herself.
But besides the sheer folly
of this “We are Masters of the Planet” hubris, there are also more mundane but
horrific consequences. The geometry of
life is not a pyramid with Humanity at the apex. It is a web with Humanity but a single strand
that also depends on the strength and resilience of the other strands and
systems.
In our pride we believe that
we can destroy foot-deep topsoil and replace it with a foot of dust laminated
with fertilizer and pesticide and herbicide.
This is not just folly. This is
lunacy. We might think we can compensate
for poisoned rivers and groundwater, with better filters, but we should think
again. History is littered with dead
civilizations that thought their technology could offset their pillage of their
living habitat.
That word “resiliency” has
reminded me of another important word that is so vital on a small ocean-going
vessel – redundancy. AVENTURA has
a low-tech back-up for all of her sophisticated systems. If the electric windlass fails, I can raise
the anchor by hand (like I did for 25 years) with the manual over-ride. If the autopilot decides to rest, (and it
frequently does) I can steer by hand. If
the outboard motor turns temperamental, I can just row my dinghy (which I do
90% of the time anyway.)
So my little boat is
practically a floating shrine to “flexibility.”
But life for most of the world that lives on the land is a shrine to
“rigidity and fragility.” There is no
“grid” to go down on my lovely sloop. But
the so-called Real World is supremely dependent on the uninterrupted flow of
electricity. Imagine a weekend without
ATMs or air conditioning or internet or functioning gas stations or household
lighting or TELEVISION. Now imagine how
grim and chaotic things would be if that scenario stretched out far beyond a
weekend.
This brings me to the next
comforting aspect of my fine little ship and my sea gypsy life. Should things become severely unraveled, I
can sail away to the safety of a better harbor.
And if conditions become Nasty with a Capital N, I can flee to the
safety of the open ocean. Ironically,
500 miles from land, I would have more essentials and even creature comforts
than someone trapped in the mayhem of the suburbs.
The solar panels would power
the fridge to chill the beer. There is
six months of non-perishable food stowed throughout the boat. I keep my drinking water tanks topped off
from the rain, and have an emergency manual water-maker as well. There are books and music and movies as well
as the constantly changing panorama of the waves and the clouds. Plus, I have already tested these systems
several times on voyages that have lasted as long as 30 days.
*******
As I finish this essay and
glance around my ship’s handsome cabin, I am so thankful to live this simple
but luscious sea gypsy life. I am also
heartened to know that my writing has inspired others to try this path less
traveled. Every few months some readers
will email me and tell me that they have cut the real world rope and set
themselves free. Learning this, my
spirit soars – just as theirs will at that magical moment when they turn off
the engine and let their sails fill and carry them onward. For they have now entered that Enchanted
Realm where their neighbors live in the Sea and the Sky.
*******
For a very detailed presentation of my views on the
worthiness of a life cruising the Wide Waters, I recommend my Sea Gypsy Tribe
concept, which you can find here.
If this appeals to you, there are 5 or 6 more essays that flesh this out
scattered throughout my blog. Enjoy!
