My eyeballs are pressed deeply into black
rubber, protruding slightly toward the scene. As if I could perhaps tip right
into the launch pad if I pressed the binocs into my face a little harder.
My elbows resting on the cool concrete of
this beachfront condo roof, I am a million miles away, consumed by what unfolds
before me. The voices of the other ‘observers’ around me fall away, lost in the
nip of the evening breeze. For me this has become a personal show. A rocket is
about to launch.
And as the cajoling and countdown subside,
it takes over the world in a firelit spectacle. Millions of dollars and
planning hours burst into the sky and head into space as a curly cloud of smoke
lingers behind. A minute later the low rumbling of the take off hits our
astounded ears.
We are ‘stuck’ in Cocoa Village Florida.
The boat is sick. One of our two well used engines has been deemed dead.
Irreparable. A transplant is necessary. And no one seems in too great of a
hurry to get the replacement done. Once the reality sunk in that we actually
needed a new engine, and choked down the horrendous ‘cruising kitty crushing’
cost, we were ready to have it over with and move on. Move south.
But two days have become two weeks and we
have long overstayed our welcome on the free public dock. Our
cabin/bedroom/engine room is a workshop of broken engine parts and our
mattresses line the hull/hallway while we wait. And wait…
Our buddy boat had to bid us farewell and
head further south, to meet up with others and continue the partying and reunions
that we had planned. And each day we awake, wondering what this little town
will have in store for us.
This morning we hatched a loose plan to catch
the bus to the beach, take a nice long walk in the sunshine and take in some
live music at an Irish fest.
By the evening we had met some amazing new
friends, found ourselves in their gorgeous home sipping wine and eating organic
wild boar that he had hunted himself, marinated in a rum barbecue sauce and
served to us with some fresh baked Irish soda bread. We listened to music and
planned the launch viewing up on their roof.
This is our life. We make plans, things go
wrong, then unexpected miracles happen. All the time. It is amazing and I will
never take it for granted.
We arrived back on Shiloh after an epic
Canadian road trip back in January with a plan to be out of the boatyard and
into the Bahamas by the first week of February. But alas we are here, in
central Florida in late March, sipping the richest café Americana at Ossorio
Café, where the waiters now know our names. In a town we had no plans of
spending a day in.
We have met up with a friend we once met in
Grenada 4 years ago. His boat is anchored in our bay. He has taken us touring
and for Wednesday night drinks with his buddies in town.
People have reached out to us to console us
on the break down of our engine. We have spent a moment or two wallowing in
self pity over our predicament. But it’s all part of this amazing journey.
Whatever we think is a curse becomes an adventure. We’ve got our tans back. The
sun shines and there are long sand beaches to walk on.
It takes an open mind and an open calendar.
It’s freedom and it’s frustrating at times. But it’s a cruiser’s life and I’ll
take it any day, or night for a rocket flight!
