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Anthem Adrift
A Fugitive From Judiciousness
01/02/2010, Club Nautico Marina, Cartagena

Club Nautico

January 2

Just when we get comfortable with a month it changes. Pretty soon February will arrive, January will be relegated to the landfill of history and all the energy expended acclimating to that next one will be a sunk cost after only 28 days. This, adding insult to injury, occurs concurrently with changing not one, but two digits in the new year (a zero remains, but is moved to a different location; how diabolical is that?). It's not, of course, as traumatic as a new century, but decades are still no slice of pecan pie.

After recovering main and spare halyards from masthead... OK, so here's what happened. To show support for Club Nautico (currently having difficulties), pay tribute to Cartagena and raise money for some kid's belated Christmases, someone organized a scheme for collecting donations in return for tree lights to adorn 100 boats on New Year's Eve. Said decorations were so flimsy (how flimsy were they?) that anyone injudicious enough to haul them up the fore and aft stays might discover they broke upon first attempt at hauling down. Anyway, walked all over Cartagena searching every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in the area, to no effect, looking for, among other things, DVD player to replace Radio Shack junk that lasted for two and a half movies, siphon hose, vent loop siphon break and 5000 peso lunch. Did, however, find a 10 cent cup of coffee (tinto) and the dirtiest, smelliest open air "fresh" market on six of seven continents.

Having thrashed delicate physiology today, plan a day of rest on the day of rest by, ummmmmm, resting, in contrast to yesterday, when inactivity was produced moment by moment with a remarkably comprehensive absence of conscious thought.


2010, The Year in Review
01/01/2010, Club Nautico Marina, Cartagena


January 1

Man, this year has just flown by. It's already noon. Hope the next 8748 hours don't pass as quickly as the last 12. Of course, sleep tends to go by more quickly than consciousness, so assuming a higher average percentage of wakefulness going forward, confidence runs high.

Several projects await attention. It's a good thing they don't wait at attention as this could get very tiring over great expanses of time.

- Later

A trifling expanse of time has elapsed on the way to a modest one with singular lack of attention, on my part, to anything approaching productivity. Can't speak to demeanor of anticipated projects, but suspect they, also, are quite at ease. Spent day reading, shirking and watching episodes of short-lived series "Firefly". Crew turned me on to this gem about space cowboy smugglers... You may just have to watch the pilot episode to gain an appreciation.

Time for another disclaimer: While there are obscure references and oblique inferences in some of this blarney, please don't assume that every possible association is intended. Like seeing Elvis in the mall, you may just be imagining it. Bet you miss some, though.


When I Was 61, It Was a Very Good Year
12/31/2009, Club Nautico Marina, Cartagena

Blue Moon

December 31

Tonight is second full moon of the month. The next New Year's Eve 'blue moon' occurs in 2028. This evocative phrase calls forth a song: "Blue Moon, you saw me eating a scone, without a creamy fruit tart, without a pie of my own." Rogers and Hart were probably poking fun at anyone who accepts practical goals rather than striving for something unobtainable, e.g. pie in the sky. As the largest satellite in our solar system, it may also be black, wet, gibbous, harvest, hunter's, waxing, waning, new, full or crescent. While quite versatile, it contains, contrary to popular belief, no cheese or small green sapients.

Further adventures in color artistry, an exotic territory for me, this morning produced what must needs pass for a design to adorn nascent drifter. Have tentatively settled, unless there is credible input to the contrary, on dark red melding (without any Vulcans) to medium toward the leech (for the saltiless (not a real word), Cal, this is the aft (back) or leeward (away from the wind) edge of a fore and aft (not square-rigged) sail. No blood sucking vermin are involved as this is not a political process).

Late abed this morning in hopes of preparing what passes for a brain to accommodate coherence and ambulatory capability into next year sufficient to reacquire V-berth. (For residents of Pinellas Park (or Rio Linda (unknown reference for progressives)), I slept in to stay up late).

For everyone not on the "naughty" list, may you have a devilishly satisfying and prosperous 2010.


Less is More
12/30/2009, Club Nautico Marina, Cartagena


December 30

Finding myself at sixes and sevens, was reduced to cleaning (shower, head and floors) and boat projects (installing brackets for DVD player and shower paraphernalia). Designing the soon to be ordered drifter (no, not Rowdy Yates) also took a big chunk of time. Panel colors of bi-radial sail are unlikely to be puce, mauve, lavender or pink. May use shades of dark green to match boat canvas. Booorrrring.

Can't explain it, but cabin has become cavernous since yesterday. Hand clapping produces an echo. May consider down-sizing to alleviate latent agoraphobia or could just fill yawning cavity with toys. It may be necessary to mount an expedition to locate check book for that second thing.

Preserved happiness for even more than an hour with chicken and cheese pizza and beer at Pacho y Guillos. Big crowd at the recurring Wednesday gathering seemed dedicated to a similar mission. Since Chena is unavailable for displacement of blame, have shifted culpability to Genna from Night Hawk who, by diverting to Mimo for ice cream on the way home, virtually forced universal debauchery. Cow fat quota has now been filled into 2011.

After minimal productivity in the morning, dissipation can be expected to suffuse every corner and crevice of tomorrow until midnight. This assumes anyone can remain insomnolent that late. Yowzers, it's almost Y2K + 10. Glad the world as we know it didn't end a decade ago.


Solo, But Not So Low
12/29/2009, Club Nautico Marina, Cartagena

The Plank

December 29

Crewless. It was 28 days, but seemed like four weeks. Floggings were employed infrequently, although everyone, this last week, walked the plank. Conversation may decrease slightly as there is only one of us to talk with now. Discussions may stimulate, but will seldom surprise.

Although Will, disreputable character that he may appear, was pulled aside in Miami for special attention, he and Chena three-hopped successfully to Louisville's 30 degrees. It was 30 here as well, but seemed much warmer. Perhaps Colombians pack more warmth into each degree or possibly use a different scale or something.

For a modest fee, alterations in VHF radio behavior have been realized. Speaker in cockpit microphone was induced to talk by use of searing torture device euphemistically referred to as a soldering iron. Although receiving via DSC (Digital Selective Calling, allowing communicated plan to ransack anchorage, for example, to remain secret) on main unit has only improved to marginal, believe that as word of methods used to extract compliance from remote device filters down to radio, attitudes will change.

Loss of visitors has precipitated a need to find follow-on excuse for avoiding boat work. Actually engaging in physical labor is, of course, an option somewhere down list. Extended periods of reflection over adult beverages or with eyes closed will precede and seek to avoid any impetuous or imprudent activity.


An Acting Cartel
12/28/2009, Club Nautico Marina, Cartagena

Chena, Contemplating Ice Cream

December 28

Crew spent morning at open air fresh market enjoying the flavor of a third world bazaar while the rest of us, me, took under advisement a suggestion to have someone from the marina (who speaks Spanish) check out Tonio, the prop guy, across town in Parque Los Borrachos (yes, in a park) before blindly venturing out there. Dockmaster John, recommended a short, stocky, bald fellow named Hymito meaning Little Hymie. Was so bemused by name, forgot to ask if he is Jewish or an oddly named Colombian. Will search for him again tomorrow.

Early morning trek to Asistencia Technica Maritima disclosed potentially good news. Sven had checked inverter and found mosfets were not fried as none were installed. Better system uses something else which were absolutely fried, but possibly obtainable. Also, found corrosion in VHF remote mic that may herald total fix. I'm not buying. Four days (over Christmas), instead of ten, to find easily fixable problems. Right! And Santa Claus is Foster Brooks.

Plied the well-worn calles and carreras of the old town with Inspiration Ladys to find reported food festival. Someone neglected to organize it, so we just plied some more. Had cervezas in a plaza beside three drug lords and their babes, straight from central casting. Who knows? Didn't ask. After still more plying ate a fine, reasonably priced meal before returning to boat with slight detour. Path home leads by Mimo ice cream parlor and Chena, fiendishly clever wench that she is, used her devilish wiles to lure us in for a cup. We blame her, entirely. It's not visible, but guilt runs rampant.


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