During my bartending years, I loved shouting this as I herded the last of the drunks out of the Silver Dollar Bar.
I got to get home to my woman.
I got to get up before dawn and get out in the REAL world.
I got to get home to my woman.
I got to get up before dawn and get out in the REAL world.
God willing, I'll be back in Minnesota from Dec. 10 until Dec. 15. Then I'll be in Jackson Hole from Dec. 15 until Jan. 15.
I'm looking forward to seeing my family.
I'm looking forward to couchsurfing a month, working enough to put a little away, skiing with great friends, and reconnecting with the life-giving Tetons.
FYI, "Tetons" means "tits" in the French of the trappers who named them.
A Friend Suckling the Grand Teton. I was there.
I'm not looking forward to the culture shock.
The planes will feel like coffins, especially since I've sworn never to fly again.
I'll be overwhelmed by the topics of conversation, prevailing values, news, fashions, technology, and all the other noise.
I am still well aware why I left 14 months ago.
I'm pretty sure I don't belong stateside and I'm pretty sure my upcoming trip will reconfirm this.
But it's been a very dramatic month here in Nicaragua, and I could use a break.
I'm not looking for an OUT. I'd be content staying put. Unfortunately, I'm digesting her realization that she can't let me completely IN.
Yesterday at sunset the dog and I scrambled to a favorite lookout. Her to play. Me to sort out my emotions in hopes of getting back to playing soon.
I found myself weighing options.
1) Continue setting up shop here despite the heartache. Embrace the rejection and learn from it. This could definitely be good for my capacities of restraint, patience, and self-control. The problem is...
2) Outfit the boat as best as possible with what little I've got and make a run for Peru. Problem: the boat is now well beyond being a piece of shit. A new autopilot and motor and sails would be essential. That's at least $2500 in improvements. $2500 I don't have. I have $1000.
3) Sell the boat for a couple thousand and fly to Patagonia. Start over with the help of friends there. Problem: I'd feel like a cheater. I'm not the man I was when I fell in love with Chalten. My illuminating Argentinian friend Chino is dead.
4) Sell the boat for a couple thousand, build small outrigger with kayaks. Head south at a snail's pace on a caveman kick. Advantage: lots of surfing, lots of exercise, lots of thinking. Problem: lonely, minimal margins of error, zero comfort. Nevertheless a good fucking option!
5) Sell the boat for a couple thousand. Head for home and try to get a good job in a ski or surf town. Save every penny. Maybe do some writing. Look for a good woman. Wait for the right boat and then pounce. Fix it up and sail it all over this world. Problem: depressing, conventional, boring, perhaps the least desperate option but also the least appealing.
6) Hack holes in the boat, raise the sails and set a seaward course. Cover it with gas and set it on fire. Reaffirm: I WANT TO LIVE! Dive overboard! Swim towards shore! Decide what comes next during the swim. Advantage: LIBERATING! Problem: not very environmentally or economically responsible. Self- destructive. Overly dramatic. I'd feel like a horse's ass as I crawled up the beach.
Nevertheless, as the last of the sun's orb dropped behind the horizon, option 6 seemed particularly tantalizing.
Then another sailboat rounded the bend, captained by some Nicaraguan friends of Dale. He'd told me they were coming.
They're here to do essentially what I'm doing: charter a sailboat out of Gigante. They don't want to compete so they're offered a deal:
Trade the Sin Fin for a 1978 BMW motorcycle.
And a lucky number 7 suddenly appears in my world of options:
Make the trade but continue running the boat here until December 10th. Lock the bike a la Pee Wee Herman with as much chain as I can find. Fly most of my crap home. Ski and save money in Jackson. Give Maestra to my parents or find a sidecar for the bike.
Return to Nicaragua with what it'll take to ride off in search of my destiny.
Now, that's just another option but it sure puts a wild hair up my ass.
Fortunately, I have a month to make up my mind... and plenty of waves to ride in the meantime.
I may not have love, but at least I have options. Not only that, I have good options.
And the future is wide-open.
I hope you all feel the same.
Max
I'm looking forward to seeing my family.
I'm looking forward to couchsurfing a month, working enough to put a little away, skiing with great friends, and reconnecting with the life-giving Tetons.
FYI, "Tetons" means "tits" in the French of the trappers who named them.
A Friend Suckling the Grand Teton. I was there.
I'm not looking forward to the culture shock.
The planes will feel like coffins, especially since I've sworn never to fly again.
I'll be overwhelmed by the topics of conversation, prevailing values, news, fashions, technology, and all the other noise.
I am still well aware why I left 14 months ago.
I'm pretty sure I don't belong stateside and I'm pretty sure my upcoming trip will reconfirm this.
But it's been a very dramatic month here in Nicaragua, and I could use a break.
I'm not looking for an OUT. I'd be content staying put. Unfortunately, I'm digesting her realization that she can't let me completely IN.
Yesterday at sunset the dog and I scrambled to a favorite lookout. Her to play. Me to sort out my emotions in hopes of getting back to playing soon.
I found myself weighing options.
1) Continue setting up shop here despite the heartache. Embrace the rejection and learn from it. This could definitely be good for my capacities of restraint, patience, and self-control. The problem is...
2) Outfit the boat as best as possible with what little I've got and make a run for Peru. Problem: the boat is now well beyond being a piece of shit. A new autopilot and motor and sails would be essential. That's at least $2500 in improvements. $2500 I don't have. I have $1000.
3) Sell the boat for a couple thousand and fly to Patagonia. Start over with the help of friends there. Problem: I'd feel like a cheater. I'm not the man I was when I fell in love with Chalten. My illuminating Argentinian friend Chino is dead.
4) Sell the boat for a couple thousand, build small outrigger with kayaks. Head south at a snail's pace on a caveman kick. Advantage: lots of surfing, lots of exercise, lots of thinking. Problem: lonely, minimal margins of error, zero comfort. Nevertheless a good fucking option!
5) Sell the boat for a couple thousand. Head for home and try to get a good job in a ski or surf town. Save every penny. Maybe do some writing. Look for a good woman. Wait for the right boat and then pounce. Fix it up and sail it all over this world. Problem: depressing, conventional, boring, perhaps the least desperate option but also the least appealing.
6) Hack holes in the boat, raise the sails and set a seaward course. Cover it with gas and set it on fire. Reaffirm: I WANT TO LIVE! Dive overboard! Swim towards shore! Decide what comes next during the swim. Advantage: LIBERATING! Problem: not very environmentally or economically responsible. Self- destructive. Overly dramatic. I'd feel like a horse's ass as I crawled up the beach.
Nevertheless, as the last of the sun's orb dropped behind the horizon, option 6 seemed particularly tantalizing.
Then another sailboat rounded the bend, captained by some Nicaraguan friends of Dale. He'd told me they were coming.
They're here to do essentially what I'm doing: charter a sailboat out of Gigante. They don't want to compete so they're offered a deal:
Trade the Sin Fin for a 1978 BMW motorcycle.
And a lucky number 7 suddenly appears in my world of options:
Make the trade but continue running the boat here until December 10th. Lock the bike a la Pee Wee Herman with as much chain as I can find. Fly most of my crap home. Ski and save money in Jackson. Give Maestra to my parents or find a sidecar for the bike.
Return to Nicaragua with what it'll take to ride off in search of my destiny.
Now, that's just another option but it sure puts a wild hair up my ass.
Fortunately, I have a month to make up my mind... and plenty of waves to ride in the meantime.
I may not have love, but at least I have options. Not only that, I have good options.
And the future is wide-open.
I hope you all feel the same.
Max