I don't ever wanna go home!

Too bad I'll be home in 2 days for my teaching gig. I don't remember ever feeling so torn between two places. I love Seattle. I love my job. I love my cat. I love my friends.

But, gosh, do I love this, too. Perhaps coming home for a big, fun, group class will help give me some perspective, because from here, I'm ready to just keep on going.

(Oh, and I love Scott, too, of course, but he and I are generally in the same place, to he doesn't play into this particular dilemma.)

I wish I could vocalize what it is about all this that is go great, but I really can't. I just can't put my finger on it. Part of it may just be the "vacation" aspect. I can't answer my phone. I can't deal with tedious life problems that real life issues from here. Yet, those issues will still be there when I get back. The bills still need to get paid; it is just easier to forget about it from here. I feel less like worrying about it. I suppose that would all catch up, in time, and it will be more like real life.

Plus, everything written in the guidebooks about these places talks about the crowds. Well, they aren't here yet, but the weather they come for, is. I can't imagine what it all looked like 200 years ago, when the trees were still virgin timber and the wildlife was even more plentiful. Though now the cedar tree have re-grown to a sizeable girth. You can still see the stumps of the giant thick-skinned Douglas Firs left from the loggers, the replacement Doug Firs smaller than what you'd find on most hikes through the Cascades. But I'll take what I see today as well, along with the amenities of a marina when you want some extra comfort and groceries you don't have to catch and kill yourself. (We haven't caught and killed anything ourselves yet, and might never.)

So many people have told Scott and I that this is a trip of a lifetime. All I can say is that I hope you are all wrong! What a depressing thought, to think that we could never experience anything so wonderful as this again as long as we live. I surely hope that isn't true! Last night the only thing that could keep my spirits up regarding the thought of going home is seeing the kitty and the flowers I planted again.

I almost feel badly for those who travel these waters under motor alone, with no sails to push and pull them through the water. Certainly they can't hear the snow geese honking over their engine roar. And with the option of moving fast, most of them do, probably missing the seal heads popping up alongside the boat and the eagles circling overhead. But, even though my light-wind sailing techniques have already improved significantly, it is nice to know the option to fire up the motor and make 5 knots (if not fighting a current) exists. Yet, we made if from Vancouver to here using only about 5 gallons of fuel. And we left Vancouver a week ago. I haven't calculated how many miles that is yet. Maybe later.

And I'd think that power boaters don't take the opportunity to get to know the areas so intimately. Currents play in big when sailing, as do hills and mountains and islands and other micro-climate makers. As sailors, it seems we need to understand the landscape in greater detail. We need to learn to get along with its rules. Perhaps power boaters do, as well, but I can't imagine it is to the same extent.

Today I bought a wall-mounted keroscene lantern from the marine supply store. It doubles as a functional article as well as a souvenir. I can't wait to light it tonight. We didn't bring enough candles along, and with our stove all weird, it is nice to burn something to keep the dampness down. The lantern is quite beautiful, I think, and should serve its purpose well. Plus, because of the radar mount project, we had a rivet gun and rivets aboard and easily mounted it to the stainless steel sheeting behind the quirky stove. It is quite lovely. My only worry is that the glass will somehow end up broken. It is designed to stay upright no matter the pitch or heel of the boat, which means it can bonk into the stove chimney or wall behind up under extreme conditions.

Campbell River is a nice little town with all the goodies of a real town, yet it is a waterfront working marine town, so boat supplies are available at a price meant for everyday people and not just those is dire need of repair items. Tomorrow we plan to go to the bookstore and then catch a movie. There is even a Staples store that I hope to get an exacto-knife from for a little boat clean-up project. And it is a small enough town that it is all in walking distance of our marina.

It really is all good!