Posted on July 25, 2016
Night watch. Notes by moonlight.
My watch starts at 2 am.
- Opening move is always to pull out the iPod loaded up by a friend and listen to Sandinista! by the Clash–my favorite album from sophomore year of high school. Despite heading into shipping lanes in the dark, am filled with the unfounded confidence of a teenager
- Cassiopeia overhead; Big Dipper hovering over the north horizon
- Sail adjustments to the song Washington Bullets; still have to come down five degrees
- The lake looks oily, and we’re ghosting along at three knots; we chose this weather window for sleeping weather, not a speedy crossing
- Wind farm on the Michigan shore, and behind me in Ontario; this time, I recognize it for what it is
- Waves keeping time to Junkie Slip
- Send a message to my iPod friend, thanking him for the tunes; lose my night vision
- Two shooting stars in the last hour
- Vaguely see a new wind line ahead; 15 minutes later, take back the five degrees
- Vaguely wonder if the NSA will start tracking the blog if I use the phrase “Washington Bullets”
- Stare at the moon. Lose my night vision
- Switch to Thriller. Am reminded of Sarah Fryburger’s fifth-grade birthday party, where she had the ACTUAL ALBUM and we all thought she was so cool. Spend the next half hour contemplating the transition from childhood to adolescence. Also have silent dance and lip-synch party
- Lose the Saginaw light; figure haze is moving in; wind farm still a beacon
- Crossing treat–half a bag of Skittles–getting damp from the dew
- Consider the number of women in their mid-forties rocking out to “Shake it Off” in the middle of Lake Huron tonight; decide I am the only one.
- No freighters on the AIS all night–hoping to hold out until daylight with no shipping traffic
- More Clash. Decide sailing it totally punk rock and the best way to stick it to the oil companies. Pretend my iPod, clothing and boat are not petroleum-based.
- Stare at the sunrise. Ruin my night vision. That’s ok–it’s morning.