As usual my alarm went off at 0630, but this time it was plugged into charge at the chart table so I had to get up to turn it off. Whenever I have to get up to turn it off, I never get back into bed. It’s too good an opportunity to kick the day into action. I’m a bit groggy as I wander back and forth trying to figure out what I’m doing, suddenly launched into the land of the living after being deep asleep, but before long I take a peek outside and see that it’s calm, warm, and the sun is just about to come up.
I grab a bowl, throw some granola and yoghurt together, pull on a hoodie and step up into the fresh pre-dawn air. There’s not a breath of wind, the only sounds are the birds having a chat (argument?) and the distant rush of the highway. I shut out the highway noise and all is peaceful. I can hear rose finches, back in the marina again now that winter has passed. Last year, when we were away from the boat, one family made its nest in our sail cover.
I’m staring at a bright light in the eastern sky, trying to figure out whether it’s moving, whether it’s a plane, a satellite, or the last star to leave the sky as the sun rises, when five pelicans flap casually over the docks. They pass by overhead, the one at the back attempts to come into land on one of the pilings nearby, but the others are having none of it. He aborts at the last minute, figuring he’s gonna lose his mates if he takes a break. Maybe they sense he’s tired, maybe they’ve flown a long way and all need a break, or maybe they are lost in their own thoughts and realise they’ve missed their landing – they all come round again and settle down just outside the marina breakwater.
The sun peeks his head over the hills and the direct yellow light instantly accelerates the mood. Shadows appear. The day is here. Time to get moving.
Road and Ocean 