by D. J. Green | Sep 4, 2018 | Venus & Mars Go Sailing
She can change your life. For me, that teacher’s name is Nancy Erley.
The first time I met her was brief, just a short exchange after hearing her insightful presentation on crew communication at a sailing expo. But I never forgot her.
The next time I met her was years later. I was grieving the loss of the man I’d sailed with for eight years, and though I wanted very much to continue cruising on Kagán, I wondered if I could even maneuver her into my narrow slip, much less sail her on my own. Then Nancy spent a week with me on Kagán, and she changed my life – on my boat, certainly, and in ways I couldn’t have imagined before I lived into taking Kagán’s helm. During that week, she watched me, asked questions about the role I had played as first mate, and gently suggested that if I’d done things like set sails in gusty winds and set anchors in deep, remote anchorages with Jerry, then I could do those things, with sensible adjustments for single handing, on my own.
She knew a little something about all this, a passionate sailor, Nancy has completed two circumnavigations on her boat, Tethys. During those trips around the globe, she taught women how to cross oceans in a small boat, as they did it together. Her gift for imparting the skills and the wonder of both the physics and the art of sailing, tailored to fit each of her “learners,” has changed lives, made dreams come true. This is not hyperbole, it’s what Nancy does.
.
First, we would talk through the whats and hows, and then she would assure me she’d be right there if I needed her, but I should try these things as if I was single handing. From seemingly casual conversations, she intuited what I felt I could already do, and what might stop me. She nudged me toward those lessons. Her confidence and the reassurance of her presence gave me the courage to try. And to keep trying after our week together, even though I was still afraid (especially of maneuvering under power in tight spaces with my full keel boat that doesn’t like to start turning and once she turns doesn’t like to stop). Nancy encouraged me to let go of the fear, which for sailing solo I could. It took longer, years in fact, to let go of the fear of going into new marinas, having to maneuver in unknown tight spaces. Sometimes I succeeded (nailing a tough landing feels great) and sometimes I failed (seems your ugliest landings always happen with an audience on the dock), but I never stopped trying. And that’s the key – if you keep docking, you learn how to dock in different places in varying conditions. Then one day, you realize that now you have a great deal of respect for every docking (really, there’s a lot going on when you dock a boat, but that’s another story), but not so much trepidation. That “you become what you practice” thing – it worked again.
The lessons continue, occasionally in person (thanks for those great days on Port Townsend Bay earlier this summer, Nancy!), and more frequently on my own, not only using the skills she’s taught me, but also trying to emulate the examples she’s set for me to be the skipper I aspire to be. That’s what a gifted teacher can do.
Tell me about your Nancy Erley. How has he or she changed your life?
by D. J. Green | Jul 28, 2018 | Ground Work, Venus & Mars Go Sailing
In the San Juan Islands of Washington state, there are many lovely anchorages to drop a hook. Some would say Sucia Island is one of the loveliest. Part of a three-island marine state park, it has trails, campsites, mooring buoys, and anchoring room galore. It’s also a great playground for a geologist.
The horseshoe shape of the island tells part of its geologic history; sedimentary strata, which were originally flat-lying, underwent tectonic compression shaping first a syncline (a big U-shaped fold), then further compressive forces tilted it forming what geologists call a plunging syncline, and what sailors call the big, beautiful anchorage of Echo Bay.
.
But it’s the striking sculpted sandstone cliffs that draw so many to Sucia. The “carving” that looks like intricate modern art is known as honeycomb weathering, for obvious reasons. Three specific conditions are needed for this type of weathering to occur: soluble salt, as in seawater; porous rock, like the Chuckanut Sandstone which comprises most of the bedrock on Sucia Island; and alternating cycles of wetting and drying, as in tides flooding and ebbing.
The Chuckanut Formation sediments were deposited by a meandering river 50 million years ago. There were several depositional environments along the river, including braided streams, point bars, and oxbow lakes, resulting in numerous rock types within the formation – conglomerates to sandstones to siltstones.
To create the intricate weathering pattern, seawater is absorbed into the porous sandstone, then evaporation causes expanding salt crystals to wedge sand grains apart. As cavities develop, microscopic algae find a sheltered environment in which they can thrive on the walls of the cavities. The coating of algae slows weathering on the side walls, so the divots deepen, making the honeycombs more and more dramatic. Understanding how these sculpted sandstones form, makes me appreciate their beauty all the more.
.
Showing signs of weathering myself, I can’t resist the metaphor of time and erosion sculpting us into more beautiful shapes than we were before.
What metaphors resonate for you?
Notes:
- To learn more about the geology of Sucia Island, there’s a short paper, “Sucia Island, The Geologic Story” by George Mustoe of Western Washington University (April 2008) that’s very informative.
- Special thanks to Judi Pringle for kayaking Sucia Island with me, where I took the pictures for this post.
by D. J. Green | Jun 29, 2018 | Venus & Mars Go Sailing
“Don’t you get bored?” a coworker on a field job asked. “Just sitting on a boat all summer?”
Clearly he had never owned or lived on a boat. There’s never nothing to do. “Just sitting” only happens at the risk of enduring substantial guilt, induced by the as-yet unaddressed items on the to do list.
Our sailboat is like a very compact house, equipped with complex electrical, plumbing, and propulsion systems. It floats in a corrosive medium (we sail the Salish Sea, which is, of course, saltwater) that is always moving, sometimes gently and sometimes not. That means there’s almost always something to fix, despite keeping up with regular maintenance. Then there’s the polishing. And decks to be swabbed. Really, that’s not merely a phrase. No, I don’t get bored.
One of the things I love about life on Kagán, is that much of the work is physical. It often has a meditative quality to it. Wax on, wax off is also not simply a phrase. A week ago, we finished varnishing the bright work (that’s nautical for wood trim). The next day, I waxed the gelcoat in the cockpit. When it rained, I reveled in seeing the droplets beading on the newly-protected teak. And as I write this, the gelcoat is gleaming in the sun. The pleasure of seeing those results is worth all the hours it took to get them. I believe if we take care of Kagán, she’ll take care of us. Keeping her beautiful is one of the ways we do that.
But it’s not all scrubbing and polishing, I’m also engaged intellectually during our summers on Kagán. I think I do more basic math here than in land-based life. I calculate tide fluctuations to determine anchor rode lengths and evaluate current directions, speeds, and timing for transiting narrow passages. There’s also the decision making involved in planning for and executing cruises of several weeks, like water use management and provisioning. And then there are the minute-to-minute judgements while under sail – what tack to take, and how to trim the sails for speed and comfort and, of course, safety.
The outcome of a job, the consequence of a choice is often immediate and tangible on Kagán – it’s a stark contrast to so much of the online and virtual work we currently do.
We’re at anchor today, and I’m “just sitting” in the cockpit at the moment. But in addition to admiring the very shiny gelcoat, I’m listening to oystercatchers chatter on the rocky shore, savoring the cool breeze as Kagán swings to it, and following the kee-kee-kee call of a bald eagle to see it swooping in for a landing on a high snag. Peaceful, happy, and offline, yes. Bored, no.
Tell me, what engages you?
by D. J. Green | Jun 9, 2018 | Ground Work
Last week, I wrote about two disciplines I practice on a regular basis, and how they’ve helped me “become what I practice.” Today, I’ll explore two more.
Engine Checks:
Although Kagán is a sailboat, the wind doesn’t always blow, nor am I expert enough to maneuver under sail in tight spaces like into and out of marinas, so the auxiliary engine (a 37-horsepower marine diesel) is essential to our cruising life. At least every 10 hours of running time, we do an engine check – checking the engine oil and coolant levels, feeling the tension on the fan belt to the alternator, and taking a good long look for drips from the myriad hoses snaking through the engine. Though it doesn’t take much time, it’s a bit of a production – moving the companionway ladder, lifting off the forward engine cover, and crouching on hands and knees with a flashlight, reading glasses, and paper towels.
When everything is working well day after day, we begin to wonder if it needs to be done so frequently. But little changes can mean a lot. As our sailing season wound down last year, we noticed some pinkish ooze on one side of the fresh water/coolant pump. We wiped it off and monitored it. On our very last morning at anchor, it was my turn to do the engine check. The pink goo on the pump seemed thicker and there were dribbles on the absorbent pad below it, but there was plenty of coolant in the reservoir. We decided we were good to go back to our home marina just a few hours away, but I made a note in Kagán’s log and called our mechanic as soon as we were snug in our slip.
Turns out the casting of the pump housing was porous, and the pump needed to be replaced. By doing our engine checks almost every day, we caught what could have been a big problem before it was a problem at all. I count that as a little discipline with a big payoff.
Releasing Attachment to Outcomes:
I was introduced to the concept of undertaking something I cared about, then releasing attachment to its outcome eight years ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer and began the weeks of testing to learn more about what I would be dealing with – what type of cancer, what stage, and if/where it had spread. In a case like cancer, it’s especially hard to release the desire that the outcome be favorable. But it was a worthy effort to make. Getting educated and assembling the best medical team possible was important, and so was striving to be peaceful with whatever was in store for me.
I was lucky. The disease was in an early stage, and the surgery and radiation treatments, though not easy to get through, left me cancer-free and able to resume a lifestyle that restored my health fully. It may seem odd, but looking at it through the prism of years, I think the experience actually enhanced my happiness as I feel deep gratitude for how well and strong I am.
The discipline of releasing attachment to outcomes is one that I continue to practice, though imperfectly. I try to do my best simply for the sake of doing my best, rather than to achieve a specific result – like completing a well-written novel, not knowing if I’ll succeed in publishing it and being diligent in maintaining Kagán’s safety and mechanical systems, despite the inevitability of breakdowns. And then there’s attending to my health, though there are no guarantees that the cancer won’t recur, and there is the guarantee that aging will take its toll – so, walking, biking, doing yoga, and those daily sit-ups and push-ups need to be about feeling good on any given day, without attachment to the days that follow.
This discipline is one I haven’t quite become. All too often I am attached to what I perceive as a good outcome. But I keep practicing.
What are the disciplines you find most challenging, and why?
by D. J. Green | Jun 3, 2018 | Ground Work
One of my many teachers of writing or yoga or life, said to me, “You become what you practice.” I’ve never forgotten the phrase, and I believe it. There are several little disciplines I practice, and today I’ll talk about two of them.
Sit-ups and Push-ups:
I can’t remember when I began doing sit-ups and push-ups every day. It’s been decades. The only time I haven’t done them for any length of time was when I had surgery and radiation treatments for breast cancer eight years ago. Since radiation really saps your energy, it was months before I felt strong enough to consider starting them up again, or not. I recalled a conversation I’d had years before with a friend in her fifties, we were sharing a hotel room and she commented on my daily routine, saying she used to have a similar one, until she’d turned fifty…and then she gave it up. I also remembered thinking that I wouldn’t make the same choice. I’m okay with getting older, but I’m not so okay with getting weaker, to the extent that I have control over it. So, there I was – just turned fifty myself and a newly-minted cancer survivor – making a decision to keep or let go of a small, daily discipline that could help me maintain strength and fitness. I decided to keep it.
I don’t do a lot of them, and I don’t need to suit up to get them done, so on the days when I don’t make time to suit up and seriously sweat, I still move my body and clear my mind. The bonus is a strong core and arms ready to haul lines when I arrive on Kagán, my sailboat, each spring. This discipline provides a base of fitness for me to build on.
Yoga As Muse:
When I first wrote fiction, I had a difficult time writing technically and creatively on the same day – the rhythms of the work were so different. I needed time, lots of it, to wait for inspiration to arrive. Given that reporting on field jobs was a big part of my paying work, writing a novel was going to be really hard (and it isn’t easy, in any case), if I couldn’t create inspiration, rather than wait for it.
Then in 2007, I took the Yoga As Muse–Writing from the Center to the Page workshop with Jeffrey Davis at the UNM Taos Summer Writer’s Conference. The process Jeffrey taught, and I have practiced ever since, uses yoga to focus for writing. It goes something like this – you go to the mat and set intentions, the first intention is what you’re writing for (the big picture), and the second what you’re writing for that day. Depending on the intentions, you select a specific sequence of yoga poses to help you move toward them. That’s a rudimentary description, and if you’re interested in trying it, I highly recommend Jeffrey’s book The Journey from the Center to the Page, Yoga Philosophies and Practices as Muse for Authentic Writing (Revised and Updated), published by Monkfish in 2008. Since learning the process and incorporating it into my writing life, I can switch gears from technical prose to creative work in a matter of minutes on the mat. I’m pretty kinesthetic, and for me, this discipline helps to quiet the mental chatter that often gets in my way. Sometimes I feel ready to write after just closing my eyes and setting my intentions, which can vary from drafting a new scene, to finding my characters’ true voices in dialogue, to simply staying at my desk and writing for an hour. Other days, I need to move for several minutes to find my direction, but I can’t think of a time that Yoga As Muse hasn’t enhanced my writing sessions.
My disciplines help me be who I strive to be – in these cases, someone who can lift her own weight and a writer – indeed, I have become what I practice. Maybe the little things aren’t so little at all.
What are your disciplines, little or big?
Note: You may know of the new General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), that went into effect May 25, 2018. To help comply with GDPR consent, I’m confirming that you would like to continue receiving my blog. If you would like to remain on the list, you don’t need to do anything. However, if you would like to be removed from the list, please use the Unsubscribe link found at the bottom of any email sent by Geologist Writer. I do hope you’ll stay on as one of my valued readers. Thank you!
The Chuckanut Formation sediments were deposited by a meandering river 50 million years ago. There were several depositional environments along the river, including braided streams, point bars, and oxbow lakes, resulting in numerous rock types within the formation – conglomerates to sandstones to siltstones.
Although Kagán is a sailboat, the wind doesn’t always blow, nor am I expert enough to maneuver under sail in tight spaces like into and out of marinas, so the auxiliary engine (a 37-horsepower marine diesel) is essential to our cruising life. At least every 10 hours of running time, we do an engine check – checking the engine oil and coolant levels, feeling the tension on the fan belt to the alternator, and taking a good long look for drips from the myriad hoses snaking through the engine. Though it doesn’t take much time, it’s a bit of a production – moving the companionway ladder, lifting off the forward engine cover, and crouching on hands and knees with a flashlight, reading glasses, and paper towels.
Recent Comments