Today is the first day I have not felt there are projects that must be done; even though there are. Yesterday was spent trying to get the outboard motor running; the very same one we took to Mexico. Cooling passages were clogged, and in the process of removing the head, one of the head bolts broke. Then in the process of drilling out the broken bolt and trying to tap a new hole, the tap broke off. Now I have the problem of getting the tap out. Not good.

The project for today was to get the outboard that came with Mister Ed running. It's 9.8hp, weighs a ton, and hasn't been run in 6-7 years. The prospect of buying a new outboard was looming high on the horizon. With new gas, the thing started on the 5th pull! Maybe there is a God after all!

Much of the day has been spent speeding around the anchorage doing an Italian tune-up. Judy and I then went to a nearby beach for some shell hunting. Just like old times. Nice. Gabe and Sam would have come, but they are still doing school. Maybe a few more field trips without them, they will realize they are missing out on some pretty cool stuff, and will concentrate more.

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Some might wonder if we ever have doubts about this lifestyle change and pursuit of a vision.

On September 23rd, at about 9 pm, John and I exploded. I wrote in my journal the next morning the following: "When you want to run away the night of your departure, then you know your doubts and fears have filled your dreams. When in the heat of rage with the man you love, you can only think of what to put in the duffle bag that you will carry out the door, then you know you have hit the wall. As John was debating with me, I was not listening. I had forgotten the years past and the vision of the years ahead. I was in the present, looking blank. We could blame my hormones, but the intensity was much greater and the strain on us was as if we both had spun into a physical, mental and emotional spiral down. It was fast and the momentum grew as our voices accelerated. The lights in the homes nearby turned on and I began to sense my place among society. We were not alone. Just as quickly as we spun out of control, we halted. Our daughter, Gabriella, in a calm voice took control of the moment by telling me to go to my room and sit alone. She asked her Dad to sit down, alone in the cockpit. She separated us. She gave us time to collect ourselves. She went to her bunk to sleep. We had time to pause. "We had few moments in the preparations of the voyage to think about our individual and personal fears or doubts. We had been working on this vision for twelve years. The process was as familiar as the planning process of my old career as a campus planner. We were marching through a methodical process, continually focusing and adjusting to new options and opportunities, as needed. I had over twenty-five years of experience doing this. John had his twenty years in the product design field, doing the same. We were amply competent, capable and creative, if not also clever. We had dealt with difficult clients and colleagues. We thought that was worst than being your own boss and driver. We were unprepared for the emotional responsibilities, the stress and strain of choosing to be totally independent, self-reliant, not to mention, the lack of clarity about tomorrow that looms. It had been building up inside and needed to burst; pushed to its limit any balloon could burst. Was this just a small leak or a bursting of the seams?

Luckily, we think it was just a leak. It is too recent an event to know all that the fear, insecurity or doubt means, however, we do know that on September 23rd we went to bed with in a fog of ambiguity and dis-ease. It was a deeply, personal experience, not one we recognized; this was no ordinary spousal argument. We were scared. We were both uncertain why or what had happened. We were both confused. We agreed to go to sleep, at midnight we were far too tired to continue any sane conversation.

By morning, we woke slowly and quietly, we checked each other with gentle looks and eventually warm hugs. We agreed that we needed to make every effort to go through the motions in our bodies and mind of just breathing and moving forward. We had to slowly re-engage in living our dream. We agreed that this was a no fault situation.

What disturbed me, was my desire to momentarily want to "throw the journey, all away", for a life, no more certain than the one I was choosing to live. I expect on some late night ocean watch, when I am out at sea with just the stars, I may understand what happen on September 23rd- when I thought I wanted to return to a predictable and "normal life", before I began my life with a sailor and his crew.

I wrote in my journal, "...from this muddy, painful darkness, will come clarity and lightness. There must be, but I cannot see it, now. I am too tired and drained. I need rest, physical rest; rest that comes when I am alone. Tomorrow or the next day, the sun will rise inside and I will understanding."

We meant to stay just 48 hours, however, our stay became 96 hours in Point Richmond.

On September 24th, we left the dock at Point Richmond. Fueled the boat with 150 gallons of diesel and motored out under the Golden Gate Bridge.

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The Captain says that I have brought everything plus the kitchen sink on this voyage, and in this case, a double sink. The boat is well provisioned, even I will admit to this. However, we did leave a few things behind that may prove to be consequential or not. I'll let you be the judge. We left behind a cappuccino maker, 2 Barbie convertible cars, books on Landscape Architecture, a matchbox car collection vintage 1950-70, a dozen pairs of shoes (guess whose!), two storage rooms and two secret closets. The cars are gone. The futons, beds and furniture are gone.

On board we have the normal seafaring stock of tools, gear and gadgets some of you fellow sailors might want to know what that is and I'll have to refer to a technical write up at a future installation. My mood is more to the nonsensical and whimsical. It is by the way a Sunday, a beautiful, warm day on the SF Bay. We are enjoying an old fashion thing called a day of rest.

We have not left the SF bay area, but will within 48 hours. The additional week away from Oyster Cove Marina enabled the Captain to finish projects that were continuously being interrupted by his gregarious wife who kept enlisting him in social activities. Gracious friends were with us for the full 2 months prior to leaving. We know it was pleasurable, and less sure if it was hazardous to the schedule.

The Captain finally had to "pull our home out of port" to get the crew away from the social demands of departure. With at least 15 of our friends who reside at Oyster Cove Marina and Mark, they waved us off. We set sail on September 15, 2003 at high tide: 15:15 local time. A few tears shed, but we were off and the sails were up fifteen minutes out of the channel.

Our destination, Point Richmond, the home of John's sister, Cathe and her husband Griff. We took them up on their generous offer to let us dock the boat so we could complete our final projects before taking off to blue waters.

We had a good sail on the bay. Even fully loaded, this steel hulled 60' boat, with 40 lbs of rice, life raft, 2 bikes, 3 cases of ramen, nearly 500 books, school and art supplies, propane and water tanks filled, we were sailing with just the jib at 7-9 knots. Not bad for a late summer sail on the SF Bay.

The tranquility of Cathe and Griff's home and dock made it easy for us to get some long overdue projects DONE; like the doors hung in the galley, button latches placed on the doors, completed the installation of the wash down pump, covered the bikes, essentially dealt with a number of the 20 minute tasks. We know we are getting close when the Captain goes to West Marine to buy the American Flag that will hang from the stern.

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