As some of you may have noticed, I've been silent, electronically, since the start of April Break. Writing continued, and I'll enter the blogs (post-dated) over the weekend, but I was enjoying the old fashion nature of writing with a pen in my Shakespeare And Company Notebook which I purchased in Paris last fall, while sailing through the BVI.
Books onboard boats, reading and writing in them, is a part of the charm of sailing. Le Bonne Vie is a 50' Beneteau with 3 cabins and a roomy saloon. For 8 nights, I had the distinctly decadent pleasure of having one cabin all to my self. Above is a picture of the books I was consuming and into which I was creating on the night stand in my cabin. The cabin had three lights (one over head and two reading) and three portholes (great for catching the trade winds and viewing the stars). Never used the blanket and partially used the top sheet. Stacked my two pillows to read and write, then down to one to sleep. My one carry-on duffle bag worth of bathing suits, sundresses and sandals neatly stowed. The smell of diesel grease from the engine, combined with the warm salt air from under the panel by my pillow, just transported me back to living on the boat 33 years ago.
On my boat, the 48' ferro-cement cutter, we had a floor to deck bookshelf screwed to the bulkhead between the saloon and forward birth. On the opposite bulkhead on this Beneteau there is a single shelf designated to books (aside from the ones in the Capt.'s Chart Table). Most sailors are readers. Comes with the territory. In fact, most ports worth their salt, have a tradition of lending libraries, both formal and informal. The rule of thumb in most sailors laundromats is this; if you take a book, you'd better leave a book.
Many island restaurants or wharf rat bars, internationally, have the same policy. On this trip, I only noticed once such book exchange. It was at the Big Bamboo in Loblolly Bay on Anegada. There, screwed to the wall in the main dining area, is a glass bookcase full of books. Some are old and tattered, others recent bestsellers in hardcover. There were easily 7 shelves of books inside the case. On the outside, there was a not yet sun-faded sign: "You take one ~ You leave one." Fairly basic common civilized courtesy of people who live on a rock or in a harbor.
Anegada isn't even your typical tropical volcanic island. The name ins Spanish means "Drowned Land." It's really only an atoll made up of white sand from the Atlantic hitting the Caribbean waters over the reefs that surround the island (the reefs that have claimed sailing vessels for hundreds of years). This winter, knowing I'd been returning to Anegada after a 18 year absence, I read Land of Love and Drowning by Tiphanie Yanique. In it she writes about the beach around the point from Loblolly, Flash of Beauty. In it she shares the folklore and legends of the coral reefs that line the shores. She also creates a narrative thread throughout the novel that keeps tugging one back to that beach, like a selky to an irish sea shanty. The life of the mind is active when the tv, wi-fi, electricity and satellites may be not working. Some escape with rum, others with music and words.
Last night, or rather early this morning, I arrived home (1AM). Worked all day and diddley-squat tonight. Now I'm going to hold onto the books, images, sun, waves, wind, weather, conversations, and words I captured in the islands as I fall asleep on my bed, no longer my cabin bunk, that still feels like it's gently rocking at anchor......
Good Night, Book and Boat Lovers, G'night!
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