Category Archives: Photography

Reboot, Undo or Maybe Find and Replace

The year that was had its share of challenges for everyone. For some it was just impossible and heartbreaking. New Year’s makes it feel like we get a do-over, that we get to Reboot and start again without causing the system to crash. Life isn’t that easy or simple. Some things you can’t fix but there is always hope if you look for it. Right now, we need to look hard and long at the future and what is ahead with a greater understanding of the fragility of those things we’ve always held dear.

I’m an optimist but I know things can fall apart. I also know that when they do, all you can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. I’m hoping for a better 2021, though I know it won’t be all better once the ball drops in Times Square. I’m targeting 2021 as the year I have my first book published. I’m not sure how, but I’m going to give it my all to make sure it has every chance at success. Like painting, working at making my book the best it can possibly be is my first goal. When I’m satisfied with it, which will probably be never, the editing ends and the publishing begins.

Creating paintings of our boat trip from Maine has been a fun respite from my writing endeavors. Sometimes you have to step away and take a breather before returning with fresh eyes. Painting has allowed me to do that.

From Chapter 16:

“It was 8:30 a.m. when we left Barefoot Marina, and another pretty day on the water. The weather was finally cooperating, four sunny days in a row and more sunshine to come. Once the ICW fed into the Waccamaw River, the water was deeper and wider and beautiful. We made our way up to the fly bridge to enjoy the sunshine and the mild temperatures. Ahead of us was a row of sailboats. The sunlight pushed past a row of sumptuous clouds, creating a glistening spotlight for the middle sailboat with its sails unfurled. That was a picture that would definitely make a fine painting someday. Up ahead was the Ocean Highway Bridge which connects Pawleys Island to Georgetown, South Carolina’s third oldest city after Beaufort and Charleston. When we reached mile marker 400 where the Waccamaw River meets the Great Pee Dee River, Georgetown Landing Marina, awaited us, a perfect place to stay.”

Happy New Year, and let’s all resolve to be kinder to one another. If we try to understand someone else’s point of view instead of insisting on our own infallibility that which divided us only grows wider. Look for common ground and understanding and you’ll find it.

Chapter 1 (excerpt)

… It’s good we had a hearty breakfast. We made our way back to the boat, it was still a fair distance to get home and the weather wasn’t getting any better. We left the town dock, once again calling for the draw bridge to open and we were on our way down the Kennebec River. While that sounds all well and fine, we were still low on diesel and looking for a marina down river to get fuel. Not only that, we were traveling against the tide. The gray weather turned into drizzle. It was time to break out the rain jackets. I used an app on my phone to try and locate fuel. There were a couple of marinas, but they all had gasoline for the predominant outboards that cruise the Kennebec, not diesel.

Were it not for the lack of fuel and the rainy weather it would have been a great route. As usual, my camera at the ready, I took pictures along the way. I hoped to someday see it all on a sunny day but knowing that may never happen I wanted to capture all the views that were so striking, even on a rainy day. There were little lighthouses on private docks, crisp white church steeples; houses with multiple out buildings stacked up along the river banks, in all colors shapes and sizes.  Nature competed for my attention, osprey nests with their occupants were perched upon channel markers and seals popped their heads out of the water, just long enough to be seen but not photographed.

The rain grew steadier and I tried to stay positive. Traveling against the tide was sucking up what fuel we had faster than usual, and cutting down on our speed considerably. The needle on the gas gage was bouncing around, as though at a loss for how to display this small amount of fuel. Casco Bay was just ahead, but navigating this section of the river was precarious. There were multiple warnings in the cruising guide but Tim was familiar with these waters so I tried not be concerned. The narrow channel funneled the tidal water up into the river with more velocity than we’d already been fighting. Ledges and small islands turned the route into an obstacle course as the rain continued to increase. Regardless, there was a sigh of relief when we were past all the danger areas.

It was then that Tim said, “We’re going to have to be a sailboat for a while”, concerned we didn’t have enough fuel to make it home.

My optimism was now on the decline. The rain was steady now and it was chilly. We raised the sails and were moving along well, for a while. I stayed in the cockpit with Tim, though the dry space below was calling. It seemed the least I could do, keeping him company, given my lack of ability to do anything more helpful. From time to time I did duck below for a reprieve from the rain, each time bumping my head on the semi-closed hatch. Before long, the wind died and it was very slow going. As we moved haltingly along, getting wetter by the minute, I watched a motor boat go by traveling in the opposite direction, farther out in the bay. I longingly stared at the enclosed cabin and the brisk speed at which they were traveling. It was in that moment, with rain dripping off the visor of my hood, that the charm and beauty of sailing began to fade. …