Sailing the Red (a letter)

Ltr Paul 1994 blog cropWell! Here’s a window on a past life. A good friend’s father recently passed on. The father was also a friend; among his effects was a letter i sent him back in 1994, and it made its way back to me.

It’s a 9-pager, handwritten in ballpoint on scribbler pages, completed in segments while coaxing Triangle Island, my 18-foot open yawl, north through the Red Sea’s myriad hidden reefs and wild desert winds. Reading it was a trip back in time, evoking the emotions i was feeling while immersed in a dangerous solo adventure. Here are a few excerpts:

24 Mar. 1994

Dear Paul,

Coming to you from the Red Sea, west shore, at about 16½ degrees north. Triangle Island and I are amongst the islands off Massawa, Eritrea’s port city. The wind is mild, the sky full of puff-clouds, and we’re barely hanging to our desired course: north. Seems benign, yet I’m nervous as hell. Except for one low island, supposedly 5 miles ahead but still invisible, there’s nothing but open water for 150 miles ahead. Continue reading

Moving up in the gene Poole

Another eccentricity of my privileged Tofino house-sit is that i must vacate it periodically, when the owners to return or, sometimes, their house-swap partners. As of today i am on one such hiatus. Sometimes i luck into a temporarily empty apartment, sometimes i leave town to visit friends. This time, though, i decided to scratch a longtime curiosity: I’m living for three weeks on Poole’s Land. Continue reading