Boating for beginners..a homey’s odyssey

He could tell, by counting the wear through the growth rings on the mast, that he had been at sea for seven years and for too many of these it seemed he’d been trapped in the Doldrums.

The relentless glare of the predictable, equatorial sun had baked him leather brown, and there were livid flares of salt burn in his armpits and groins.

He realised that slowly, exquisitely slowly, he was sinking.

The raft he’d built was sluggish and water logged and there was a faint but unmistakable sweet smell of rot from the reed bundles.

He had thought about this journey for a long time; felt it was something he had to do. It would be a voyage of discovery, the next phase in his life, developing his untapped potential. He supposed, on reflection, he’d known the reed raft wouldn’t last, but he’d told himself that he’d discover new ways to strengthen and waterproof it as time passed; that somehow it would be all right. But he had known now for a long time that he’d been hasty; that his need for adventure had overpowered his common sense.

So he’d started to spend long hours gazing across the turbid breathing sea, watching the other boats in the distance. There were some that looked in worse shape than his so he avoided them, looked the other way feeling slightly embarrassed. There were some that he realized were too well guarded, too swift and elusive to even consider, but he discovered there was another sort, boats that reminded him of what he’d had in mind when he built his own. One in particular fascinated him. She floated high in the water, placid and stable. The reeds were neatly bunched and symmetrical, fat and well ordered, and the ropes binding them were thick and yellow like braids of a Viking woman’s hair. It was everything that he’d wanted his own boat to be. He knew that if he could have her he could safely resume his voyage of discovery.

And yet he hesitated, he felt some loyalty to the craft he’s built and spent so many years on. It was so familiar but it no longer felt safe. He knew all it’s flaws and weaknesses and whereas once he had accepted some responsibility for them and occasionally they even made him smile indulgently, now they just annoyed him.

The new boat looked in her prime, shiny with youth and promise.

He watched it for long time. Sometimes it seemed to recede into the distance, but it only made his longing more acute and he became increasingly irritated with the suffocating mustiness and ominous creaking of his own boat.

He made a decision. He ripped off his shirt and dived. The water was cold, surprising and unfamiliar. It frightened him but he struck out resolutely in the direction of the other boat.

Soon he stopped and trod water to get his breath and his bearings. He looked back at his old boat. It lay motionless in the water, dejected and accusing, and he felt the weight of his conscience pushing him down in the cold shocking water. His goal lay tantalizingly close and the gleaming prow seemed to beckon him.

He swam faster abandoning all caution. He knew he was tiring too soon. His arms were aching and felt like they could tear off but with total commitment he reached the new boat

She sat impassive and welcoming. He ran his hands along the smooth sides and he knew he loved her. He lunged at the reed bundles to get a grip and hauled himself on board, but the reeds broke and tore loose in his hand. He discarded them and lunged again feeling panicky and heaved himself on board. He had arrived. He took his first tentative steps across the tight ordered decking. It felt firm and secure under his feet. Suddenly a reed bundle snapped and the coarse matting scratched and tore at his leg as his foot plunge down into the dark oily water below. The reeds had been picked too dry, packed too tightly, a problem he had avoided when he built his own boat. He recoiled from the sharp pain as he pulled his bleeding leg from the hole and the sea seeped through onto the deck, spreading darkly between the reed bundles. The familiar smell of dampness wafted up from the bundles and the first wave of doubt struck his chest.

He looked back at his old boat. The wind had turned it away and it was drifting slowly towards the horizon distant and aloof.

He sighed and looked around him for something to plug the hole in the deck.

Such is the nature of love.