The Flat Tire

I've come to the conclusion that I don't like who I am anymore. Maybe that's too harsh a conclusion. Maybe it's more appropriate to say I don't like what I have become. I came to this realization about a week ago. I was engrossed in the misery of a typical two hour commute home from work in Connecticut, when I came across a car on the shoulder of I-95 north. It was about 85 degrees and humid. There on the side of the road was a sedan with a flat tire. The owner was digging in the trunk for tools. It was painfully obvious he was unfamiliar with the process of changing the tire for which he was about to attempt. Numbly, I drove by.

I drove by.  Traffic was moving less than 5 miles per hour, and as usual, was backed up for over 20 miles. I had all the time in the world to pull over, and I drove by. About fifteen minutes and maybe a mile down the road, I realized what I had done. I could have pulled over, changed this guy's tire for him, and both of us would have been on our way. Instead I drove by. And so did the thousands of other numb, self-important commuters sharing three lanes of I-95 misery with me. We all did it.  We all left this guy and his flat tire, there on the side of the road to struggle on his own. Pathetic. I was thoroughly disgusted for what I had done.

Ten years ago, before I had ever stepped foot in Connecticut, this would have never happened. In the country, we help each other out. This is how we are raised. This is what we come to know as normal. It's a community in which common decency towards others and a willingness to help is indoctrinated. I'm ashamed for what I have allowed this toxic environment to do to me - for what I have become.

In the boating world, it's a well known fact that boaters help boaters. If a boat is in jeopardy, if it's crew needs assistance, another boater will come to aid. It's a cardinal rule at sea that if you are able to lend assistance to another boater in distress, it is your moral duty to do so. Every book I have ever read about cruising life and living aboard has always mentioned the help one can find in other boaters within an anchorage. Authors encourage their readers to proceed into the unknown, to find calm in knowing there are plenty of other boaters ready to lend a hand.

 It's this sense of community and civility that is missing from urban environments. It's this common respect and consideration for fellow man that is eroding from society, and is seemingly extinct from urban living. While I fear failing at making a new life aboard my boat in the islands, I welcome finding a sense of community and simple common consideration which is lacking in my current situation.

So if I ever spot you on the horizon off my bow struggling with a "flat tire", no worries - I'll gladly do what I can.

Islands and ADKs

When my wife and I met, there was no way we would have ever known we would one day be contemplating a complete change in direction after well rooting ourselves with houses, careers, etc.  Some things happen simply by chance, while others are a product of one's surrounding environment.

Sharon and Rebel snowshoeing

The very first time I took my future wife to my hometown in the Adirondacks, we stepped out of my Dodge pickup into -22F temperatures and a windchill with a punch like Mike Tyson.  Friends soon arrived at my doorstep to take us out for a night on the "town".  We took her to some local watering holes of dubious distinction - "The Skunk's Nest", "The Wayside" - only the classiest joints for me...  The fact that she didn't want to leave by the next morning was a sign that she was a keeper.  The following day the excitement of showing her my beloved lake nearly got us in serious trouble.  In hyper anticipation of sharing my hometown, I soon found myself navigating my truck in the knee deep snow of un-plowed seasonal roads.  I had so anxiously headed out of the house that I had failed to properly prepare with boots, heavy coats and gloves - winter weather attire.  When my truck spun and ground itself down deeply into the snow I realized we were now sitting on the frame which was robbing precious traction, and we were far down a narrow one-way road.  We were still early on in our relationship so I worked hard to hide my initial panic.  After assuring her all was fine and "normal" I managed to execute a virtual 135-point turn, squeaking out enough traction here and there to get us out.  Awkward situation averted...  Soon thereafter it was summer again and we returned to the Adirondacks, and again to the lake.  The effect the area had on her was immediate and exactly what I had hoped for - she was smitten with the area I called 'home' just as much as I was.  I couldn't have hoped for more.

Crown Princess at the Bonaire pier

Years would pass and we found ourselves on our honeymoon.  Sharon was determined to show me a place that meant as much to her as my precious Adirondacks meant to me.  We booked a cruise with an eastern Caribbean itinerary.  I had seen the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean in pictures and on TV, always wondering if they were truly as turquoise as the pictures showed.  I also had an affinity for steel drums and reggae music, both of which I was hoping to experience while on this honeymoon cruise.  Words can not express the profound impact of seeing and experiencing these things in person for the first time.  Even though we were on a cruise and were viewing a very cleansed and diluted version, there was definitely something here.  As I was thrilled that Sharon had fallen in love with the Adirondacks, she was equally pleased that I was starting my own affair with the islands.

Aboard S/V Kuralu sailing back to Tortola

Over the next years we began to cruise every year.  We quickly found though, that we were not like the large majority of fellow cruise ship passengers.  While most were perfectly happy to quickly consume what the cruise line dished on a platter - we found that we were venturing further and further from the ship seeking adventure and a more "real" view of the islands we visited.  We booked our cruises a year in advance, chosen by itinerary.  We spent the year prior reading and researching, finding new places to explore.  More times than not, we went sailing and snorkeling away from the ship.  After each cruise it was a given that our favorite part of the entire vacation was away from the ship, usually on a sailboat.  This slow progression is how we were swayed away from cruise ships, and towards private sailing vacations.  While the cruise ships were a great way to explore a massive portion of the Caribbean islands in a short number of years, we were now narrowing our pursuit of adventure.  We wanted to go places on our own schedule, as we saw fit.  We wanted to go where cruise ships simply could not.  We wanted to reduce the passenger count from 3000 down to 2.

Fast forward almost 10 years.  It's time for a new life.  Our love of the Adirondack mountains, and of the Caribbean islands has not faded.  If anything, it has grown with us and matured from a lofty dream to a fledgling set of plans.  The parallels between the Adirondacks and the islands are uncanny.  The areas are rugged, as are the people.  Life in either place is hard.  Climates are challenging.  Weather can be brutal although opposite.  In the Adirondacks the winter can beat people and things into submission, while in the islands the heat and the dreaded hurricane season can weather even the heartiest of souls.  Populations are low.  Communities are tight-knit.  Tourism is the dollar king.  The list goes on and on.  I even dare to ask one to find a beach in the Caribbean without an Adirondack chair gracing its warm white sands.  And those local watering holes where I first took Sharon - "The Skunk's Nest", "The Wayside"?...  They are really nothing more than cold weather cousins of "Foxy's Tamarind Bar" and "Woody's Seafood Saloon".  As we embark on a journey towards a new life in the Caribbean, all we are really doing is adding heat to an Adirondack life we love.

Sharon at the Trunk Bay overlook, St. John USVI