Cruising Time

I woke up feeling like I should be doing something. I wasn’t sure what, but it seemed urgent. I double checked my deadlines, looked at the weather, checked my email and calendar, and came up with nothing. It takes a while for the restrictions of a nine to five life to fade away. By the time we reached Australia two and a half years ago we operated on a schedule that focused on sunrise and sunset, weather reports and tourist visas. It reorders your day when you don’t have to be somewhere specific by a certain hour.

crossing the Wide Bay bar

Beaches and more beaches

We’re rediscovering that.

It sounds idyllic, like an endless vacation, and in truth the only way to let go of the urban anxiety most of us carry is to start off treating this like a holiday.  But then it’s time to find our own rhythms and decide what we want to accomplish in the short, near and long term.

Yesterday felt like my first day of ‘real’ cruising. I finished off a story in the morning and then watched the dolphins frolic while we sailed through the Great Sandy Strait. When the tide changed we chose an anchorage on a whim. Then Maia and I baked and practiced our ukuleles and we watched the sun set and the stars grow bright. The day felt just full enough; like I had time for everything.

gooey cinnamon buns

But then that nagging sense that there’s more to do, and not enough time, crept back in this morning. I've always said we are sailing to something, not away from anything. But when I counted the hours that stretch before me today, I realized there are enough of them. If we’re sailing away from anything it’s that; short days that are filled with too much.

following the markers in the Sandy Strait

Sailing is a very deliberate way to travel the world—and by moving unhurriedly, you live slowly. And when you live slowly there is so much more time.