Respite In Marina City
With a mild case of barn fever...
Ah, city life. For the first time in two months and 3000 miles, Laughing Gull is tied up to a pontoon, boats around me are just a meter or two away, and I don’t have to think about an anchor and whether it might drag. LG is securely settled into the vast marina at Ponta Delgada on the big island of Sao Miguel, and the crew for the final leg to Ireland arrives this weekend.
Being in a marina has its benefits. LG got the most thorough freshwater hosedown she has received since last November. There are lots of cafes and restaurants within a few minutes walk. Even a ramen noodle shop. The gelato offerings are numerous as well. Regular hot showers are sheer pleasure. There is a fantastic bike and walking path along the seafront that is perfect for running (I’ll also try and rent a bike).
Nevertheless, over the course of the past three years I have become an “anchorage sailor,” which is someone who almost always prefers to be on the anchor, with space and breeze, over being tied up in a marina. Lots of boats are peopled by “marina sailors” who like to tie up whenever they can, for the convenience and easy, step-off, access to city or town life. And some boats happily swing both ways. I had previously never considered, or been aware, of this distinction in boating personalities, but it is very real. I place no value or judgement on one type or the other. People like what they like, and no one is out here to be unhappy.
There is one aspect of marina life to be celebrated: the instant creation of a village around you. When you first arrive, you are randomly dropped into a marina “neighborhood.” You might recognize a boat or two nearby from previous anchorages. Mostly, you are among strangers. But in a marina, among fellow sailors, you can’t be a stranger long. You start by saying hello as you pass by. You end up on a first name basis, visiting each other’s boats and helping one another out.
Sailors know they are never fully in control of their environment, and that assistance is always appreciated. So I am quick to help any new boat find a slip, or take lines. Because I always greatly appreciate the same when I arrive. The sailing community is perhaps the most generous pay-it-forward culture I have ever encountered. How can that vibe be restored in all the cities, towns and rural spaces where it has frayed or disappeared over politics, ethnicity and nationalism? The answer to that question would go a long way toward creating a more united global community. (Of course, as I might have mentioned before, I would start with disinventing social media).
I’ll enjoy sailing village life for a few more days, but it feels like a transition. Cruising the Azores has been lovely, and a unique experience among rugged, beautiful landscapes. Being in cruise mode for a few weeks after many weeks of passage mode was a nice change of pace. LG stopped in four of nine Azorean islands, so a few extra weeks could have been put to good use. However, if I am being honest, I am not sure I would have a few more weeks of cruising in me. I am close enough to the end of a long odyssey—it is hard to say when it really began—that I admit to having contracted an intensifying case of barn fever. As special as the Azores might be, my overwhelming, fever-driven preference, is to get going on Leg 3 of this transatlantic, which started in Tortola and will take LG to her ultimate destination for the moment: the small coastal village of Glandore, in County Cork, Ireland.
What happens after I get there I don’t really know. I’ll definitely spend some months ashore in a real village community (though full of sailors), and I plan to lay Laughing Gull up on the south coast of the UK for the coming winter. But I have no idea of how things might unfold from that short-term plan. Is having no plan a plan? I think so, and I embrace the uncertainty. Because it means almost anything is possible.
Anthropocene Notes:
Fear vs Optimism? This is a perpetual debate in climate communications. If people are scared will they take action or shut down? Does a focus on hope and techno-optimism inspire change or complacency? My answer has always been that the truth is the truth, and if the truth is scary we need to have the courage to both tell it and respond (somehow this same debate didn’t arise over Hitler and the rise of the Nazis—and being scared seemed to galvanize rather than paralyze). But Dr. Genevieve Guenther, in this excellent interview, explains why some fear is critical (and warranted):
If the risk of a plane crashing was as high as the risk of the Amoc collapsing, none of us would ever fly because they would not let the plane take off. And the idea that our little spaceship, our planet, is under the risk of essentially crashing and we’re still continuing business as usual is mindblowing. I think part of the problem is that people feel distant from the dangers and don’t realise the children we have in our homes today are threatened with a chaotic, disastrous, unliveable future. Talking about the risks of catastrophe is a very useful way to overcome this kind of false distance.
Burn It All: Here’s just one of many charts that help illustrate why we need to act with greater fear and urgency (source):
But there is hope! Well, I don’t want you to collapse into a doomerism puddle of inaction. So here is a report that buoyed my spirits, and suggests that fear may be changing public attitudes. According to a recent study in Nature, there is support in developed nations for implementing and paying carbon taxes (potentially the single most impactful policy change that could bring about a rapid transition away from carbon):
That idea defies conventional political wisdom, which typically holds that people hate taxes. It emerged in a survey of 40,680 people in 20 nations that found strong support for a carbon tax that would transfer wealth from the worst polluters to people in developing nations. Most of them support such policies even if it takes money out of their own pocket.
Adrian Fabre, lead author of the study published in Nature, wasn’t surprised by the results. He studies public attitudes toward climate policy at the International Center for Research on Environment and Development in Paris, and said this is the latest in a long line of studies showing that climate-related economic policies enjoy greater support, on the whole, than people assume.
I doubt many voters in the Land Of The Mad King are ready for this. But if more enlightened voters in more enlightened nations have the courage to take the lead, it would be a powerful step in the right direction. Hopefully, the United States—the largest carbon emitter on both a historic and per capita basis—would eventually do the right thing and follow along.
Until then, live simpler and do what you can. Laughing Gull will head back to sea around July 2, or shortly thereafter. As I did with the passage from the Bermuda to the Azores I will post daily logs, pics and videos here.