It's been hot on Galveston Bay the last several days. No, my beloved Michiganians and others for northern climes, not *warm* like 90s. Hot like a hearty set of humid triple digits (don't worry: I'll never complain about the "cold" down here!). With lockdown, The Bosun has joined me in working from the boat. Tight quarters, total lockdown, and the heat mean the world may not feel as vivid as "usual."
The entire exercise, however, has made us far more aware of the nature of full-time cruising. Many of the places we plan to drop anchor will be hot . . . and sticky. We will be together constantly on just forty feet of fiberglass. And we won't be visiting neat coffee shops or used-book stores quite as much as we (*I*) do now.
Solitary, quiet, sometimes uncomfortable, stretches are part of the adventure, right? Some of my best adventure memories involved trekking across a hot bit of earth alone, ping-ponging between thoughts of "this is cool" and "what the heck." During a marooned sojourn in Fiumicino, just southwest of Rome, (one involving far too little funding to qualify as a spontaneous getaway) I couldn't decide if I should feel sorry for myself or realize what a spectacular opportunity I had: it was hot, I was alone, my Spanish did not throw open the linguistic gates, I had 12 Euros total to make it through three days, and I had no clean clothes or anything. It ended up being one of the coolest trips ever, one involving a marooned Russian lady with whom I chatted using a sort of coloring book full of drawings that she had; a beautiful stretch of Mediterranean beach and harbor; a hardcore Italian church; a chatty (but not in English or Spanish) b 'n b keeper; and really cheap falafels.
(That's not my pic. Mine are buried away somewhere in storage on an old memory card. Rather, this image is from Ziodanilo on Pixabay.)
So yeah, I'm enjoying a hot, "boring," lockdown of nothing but boat, harbor, Boat Dog, Bosun, work, and reads. Kinda a really good time.