I called out to them, “You guys aren’t seriously fixing the air conditioner now, are you?”
No, not fixing the air conditioner, but preparing to go fishing, which I had agreed to as well. Not because I like getting up that early, or because I’m wild about fishing. But I liked the crew (Jeff and Carl) and if you don’t go out early-morning fishing while you live on a boat, what’s the point?
We had gotten home late that Saturday night, after attending Carl’s annual crawfish boil/margatini extravaganza. When we invited him to go fishing with us, he stopped the tequila and switched to beer, but we honestly didn’t know if he’d show up or not. Sure enough, 4 AM, he’s at the door in the pouring rain.
Mark was already up, trying to figure out what is wrong with the air conditioner, which keeps freezing. Carl hadn’t even been to sleep – he cleaned up his party and came straight to ours. Jeff arrived shortly, telling tales of the strange activity you see in Chicago alleys at 4:30 in the morning.
We set sail at 5:30 and headed out at 60 degrees, watching the city skyline disappear behind us.
In an hour or so we hit a depth of 75 feet – a ledge that drops off to 100’ depth, and they cast their lines. 
Half the sky was rainy, the other half sunny. We had calm waters. And not much happening.I have little patience for fishing, unless they’re biting. As a kid I would bring a book with me when I went out in the boat with my dad, or ice skates along in the winter. But when you’re fishing from your house, things are different. I made everybody breakfast, did some work, cleaned up. I took a chair out to the bow with a book and a blanket. It was the first time I had ever been surrounded by 360 degrees of water.
It was awesome.
Did we just come from a city? I couldn’t recall.
Only Carl caught a fish that made it into the boat: a coho salmon.
But we arrived back at Belmont exhilarated. When you free yourself from the constraints of land, you free yourself from all the land-locked worries: bills and work and obligations and all the other daily worries that weigh us down. When you’re surrounded by water, you’re alone, and also acutely aware that you’re part of something much bigger.
There’s still so much about this boat that I don’t know. It’s full of surprises, and changes all of a sudden, depending on the environment.
Like the view from our front door.
3 comments:
What a wonderful blog. I met Mark last night at a dinner party and we thought it was cool that you guys lived on a boat. He passed around your blog address so we could see pictures and read about it.
I feel like I've sailed Lake Michigan with you. Thanks!
Jennifer
I agree, this is a great little blog. I recently met your friend Mary who forwarded it to me because I mentioned I was taking sailing lessons. I've also been doing a lot of reading on the practicality of living aboard, but don't personally know anyone who does it. I was wondering if you would mind me asking a few more questions about how Mark first got his slip and so forth. My name is Quinton by the way, and you can get a hold of me at (qsnodgrass at uw-mc dot com) I'd much appreciate being able to ask a couple more questions, Thanks!
Thanks for your kind words, Jennifer and Quinton! I'm glad you like the blog! Q - feel free to email me any questions at ch1girl@hotmail.com. Or post them here and I'll answer them on the blog.
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