Northbound Musings

I can't quite quit diesel...and am also working on an addiction to autonomy.

Light winds and a spectacular sunrise.

Two weeks ago Laughing Gull was in Brunswick, GA. Today, Cape May, NJ. This upcoming Sunday: Newport, RI (hopefully!). The migration north is almost completed.

It hasn’t been a continuous migration, as life has required some off-boat pauses. Regardless, the theme of this episodic journey, much to my disappointment, has been…motorsailing. Living aboard a sailboat is like a box of chocolates, to go all Forrest Gump: you never know what you are going to get. That is part of the allure. Sometimes the chocolates are stomach sickening, sometimes they are delicious. Sometimes they are, well, boring. Motorsailing is boring (though better than being smacked by storms). And when you are in delivery mode, in contrast to just cruising or hanging around mode, when there is little or no wind you need to fire up the ol’ Yanmar to get anywhere. I admit I was conflicted, and I feel some shame that when it came to a choice of personal convenience vs burning less carbon, I did what most of the human race does. I burned carbon. Story of our era, really.

I’ve come almost 700 miles since Brunswick, and it wasn’t all boring. I saw lots of dolphins. I had plenty of time to stare at the horizon and at the stars, and let my mind wander freely (which I am starting to realize is one of the greatest gifts of this floating lifestyle). I saw some beautiful sunrises and sunsets. I read a lot and cooked some good food. Lest you feel sorry for me (joking), I had occasional moments of fantastic sailing, and learned more about how to make Laughing Gull fly, especially in light air.

Still, I put 96 hours on the engine to get here. I kept the engine at an efficient 1800 RPMs, but estimate that I burned about 85 gallons of diesel, which is a pretty big chunk of an annual diesel budget that I hope to keep to around 400 gallons. I keep intending to be more disciplined about just drifting or sailing really slowly when the wind goes away. But I am finding there is almost always a compelling reason in the moment to start the engine: a front I am racing, a tide gate to make, or I have a deadline to be back ashore or meet people.

When I am not on delivery, it is easier to just chill and bob around or go slowly if the wind doesn’t blow. In fact, I actually enjoy it. Alot (as long as I am not putting myself or the boat in any danger). Once I get to New England I can shift more into that more patient, let the wind dictate, mode. Still, I feel weak-minded about giving in to the fossil fuel compulsion so easily, and the power of that compulsion helps explain our current climate trajectory. I am slowly coming to the conclusion that the only realistic way to somehow spurn the temptation to trade combustion for convenience is simply not to have an engine available (Don Street did it for years and only became a better seaman—and storyteller—as a result). The alternative is to repower at some point with an electric drive, which can get you in and out of a marina but has limited range. That tech is now available and improving all the time. At some point soon the case for it will be irresistible.

It would be a big move, either way, so it is not a choice to rush into, and doesn’t make a lot of sense if I don’t also prune my flying. But it is definitely something to keep thinking about during future contemplation of the horizon.

Lots of squalls and thunderstorms were about, but I got lucky and was unscathed and unsoaked.

One other note about the 2024 trek north: so far, it has been entirely solo. This is not because I dislike human company (in which case I would call this newsletter (Mis)Anthropocene Sailor). It is due to a nuance of solo sailing that I am just now starting to appreciate. There are many conventional reasons solo sailing appeals to me and lots of other sailors. It is challenging, you learn a lot about yourself and your boat. You can live a special sort of semi-decivilized and unconstrained existence, in which clothing is optional, you can say or sing whatever you like, black beans and hot sauce are for breakfast, and belching is allowed and even encouraged.

But there is something less obvious or expected about solo sailing which I have just recently started to understand and appreciate, and which means my efforts to find crew for passages is less diligent and energetic than it would otherwise be. And it is that if I am on my own, and not accounting for anyone else’s schedule and life, I don’t need a plan or a goal. I can look at the weather, plumb my mood, consult my inner whims and instincts, and go, or don’t go, as I wish. I can pick a destination as I leave the dock, or even once I am underway. There is no structure. All is fluid.

It turns out that I love being this sort of indecisive. Sometimes not deciding is deciding. Sometimes deciding is not really deciding. Sometimes you know a good choice is out there, you just don’t know what it is yet. I like to simply release my mind and instincts on all the variables in play, and wait for the universe to tell me what the answer is. Time pressure can speed the universe up, but more often than not, when the answer arrives, I realize it is an excellent answer, and often an answer that I initially didn’t even imagine. I am a founding member of the Slow Dinghy movement. I hereby announce my accession into the Slow Thinking movement as well.

Good backdrop for Slow Thinking.

That sort of autonomy and free-form decision-making is kind of addictive. I just have to make sure it is not so addictive that I do in fact morph into the misanthropocene sailor. I’m not worried about it. Yet. Lots of other humans will join Laughing Gull this summer. As in all things, balance and moderation are the key.

Program Notes:

1. For a while now I have maintained a Garmin tracking page, which shows where I am and where I have been. The interface is a bit clunky, but it does the job. Recently, though, I have been trying a tracking app called No Foreign Land (not sure what the name means, either), and it makes it easy for me to add photos and videos to my track. You can find it here if you want to see where Laughing Gull is, and where I have been (just click on the “Show Journey” button on my page).

2. If you would like to join Laughing Gull on a passage, please email me at timzimmdc@gmail.com (and tell me a little about your self and your sailing experience; though experience is not required—another benefit of becoming proficient at solo sailing). I keep a list of potential crew, and send out regular updates on my plans, and what passages I am seeking crew for. See, I am not a misanthropocene sailor at all!

Onward to Newport and beyond.

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