I just finished reading "Deep Survival" by Laurence Gonzales. I had seen this book in a second hand bookstore but instead of laying out the money to buy it I put my name on the waiting list at my local library and waited. That was last winter when I was still building Tsunamichaser. I'm way beyond that point now balanced on a pivoting point. On the one hand there is my desire to take off for a few onboard Tsunamichaser and on the other work pulling me back into a huge project. Aptly it was nicknamed the Giga Gig during the lunch meeting I attended today. Which path should I follow? On the one hand there is the disassembly of the life I live drawing my wife and daughter with me into the blue yonder of unknown and on the other is the land of money with all the corporate theatrics that go with that. No life change necessary. When I started building Tsunamichaser everything was really clear. Day in and day out I went to the shed and built a boat. I had a method, a goal and a voyage figured out. Or did I? Now I'm left hanging.

Gonzales' book is a great tale of survival. It's also an understanding of how that drive works. But it's also more. He uses the term BE HERE NOW. That is where I find myself. Except I'm not here now, I'm in between not committed to anything and therefore going nowhere. Survival isn't just about getting out of a bad situation deep in the mountains or far out at sea. It's everyday. We make the wrong decisions about so many things as we flounder through life doing what we think is expected of us as opposed to what we want to be doing -- truely. It's only when we face the big scary monsters in the closet and we avoid the final smear that we think about survival. "Oh wow I survived that! I must have done the right thing." But it's the insidious day to day things that kill us or atleast kill our soul.



Survived another one! Alaska wake up call - remote trigger avalance in the Valdez backcountry with car sized blocks of death cookie snow

It was then timely to be reading not only "Deep Survival" but also Jason Lewis' log of his 13 year adventure circumnavigating the planet by human power only. I got me thinking. What have I done in those same thirteen years? 13 years takes us back to 1994. In my case to the age of 32. In that time span I've mostly worked. I've owned several companies and as I do I took every fifth year off to do as I mostly pleased. A year of sailing and mountaineering, a year of skiing and biking and the building of Tsunamichaser I have more money than I did then but am I richer? Have I seen, touched come to know the world? Truthfully no. As I'm doing now, I've mostly been sitting on the couch. Yes I've been climbing in Alaska, big mountain style, I've sailed a fair amount, skiied and kayaked but it all adds up to months of adventure not continous years. It wasn't a concious place more an escape to recreation.

Gonzales has some great tools and explanations to help you gain the understanding of how the self goes about the survival process particularily in as he puts it in deep situations. What I need to know is how do you survive the little stuff that gets in the way before it kills you. How do you get out of the being lost that the majority of us live in and get into the be here now?

Fall weather has arrived in the Pacific Northwest with an urgency of falling snow. Temperatures have dropped into the mid 40 to 50 F range and the sky is ragged with wind swept clouds bursting with rain. It was in this type of weather that I set out a couple of days ago on my bike to go for a sail. Tsunamichaser was as I had left her, swinging peacefully on her anchor tucked deep in Port Blakely. A perfect place for boats if it wasn't for the local CCNR's that discourage longterm anchoring of boats. I had made other arrangements so I set about moving her to a winter moorage which I hope I don't stay in for long. Having ridden the fifteen or so miles to get to her, I was pretty well damp throughout more from sweat than the rain. On the outside I was drenched. As I sat on the beach inflating my "toy" dinghy by CPR methods I got a little light headed but soon enough the boat was inflated. I topped off the chambers with my bicycle pump, loaded my bike panniers and myself onboard and paddled out to Tsunamichaser. Getting onboard from this dinghy is never elegant or easy. This time it was worse. As I lifted a bag from the dinghy, I accidentally flipped open one of the valves. I rushed to get out before all the air escaped and would be in the drink.

Onboard all was well. Some birds had visited leaving sandy foot prints and the odd feather. My cockpit seat hatches, never built to be waterproof, had less than an inch of water in them. The cabins were dry atleast until I opened the hatches to put gear below. As soon as I slide the hatches open in came the rain. But no big deal as it ends up in the foot well. I found the gas lines where I'd left them connected them to the fuel tank and moter gave the bulb a couple of squeezes and set about starting the motor. On the second pull it coughed and the next time fired up. Once I pushed in the choke it settled into a calm purr while I attended to the anchor. The anchor came up clean with only a little weed on the chain and some slim on the rope. Port Blakely use to be home to industry. When the water is clear you can see to the bottom. There is little life in the water here. I motored into the beach and on the way in saw Kim waving. He lives next to the park I used as my launching ground and was keeping an eye on my boat for me. I loaded my bike into the starboard hull once again getting things wet, this time with grimy water.

My departure was uneventful until I rounded the corner. Port Blakely is well protected. Outside it was blowing up. The forecast had been for SE 15-25 knots with up to four foot seas. The wind was up there though the swell wasn't. Once around the point I had the wind on my beam so I rolled out the jib. We started biting into the water and surged ahead running close into the beach. Once the wind was on my back things got a little better and running close to shore made it possible to see where I was going but the rain had not let up. I was now truely soaked with little chance of fixing this. After about half an hour I started to feel the shivers running through my muscles. Not wanting to let things get worse I found a heat pack that I fired off and placed on my stomach. This helped a bit but I knew I needed more help. I didn't feel I could leave the helm to get into dry clothes so I fount my Jetboil stove and heated water. As soon as it was warm I downed the whole thing. The shivering stopped. Thinking of my actions I realized the mistakes I was making. I was out for a short trip, fifteen miles at most - two three hours. I left in a hurry not taking time to first make a meal and a thermos of tea and I hadn't changed into the dry clothes I had along or into my drysuit. FOOLISH! A little pissed at myself, I decided to try an experiment. I'd see how things turned out if I didn't change or eat anything other than the handfuls of peanuts I had convenient. I did have neoprene gloves and socks on and I had repositioned the heat pack to my crotch. In the end things went ok. I got to my new moorage though by the time I arrived I couldn't feel my feet other than the pain they were in. Once secure, I popped below and heated a pouch of stew on the Jetboil gaining the heat of the stew and the water I heated it in. Being below out of the rain and wind helped immensely. The cabin steamed up but my quick dry clothes started to dry out and my feet came back to life. Packed up with my bike ashore and onboard I quickly regained any lost core temperature I'd lost. A bike will do that!

In the end it was a good relearning. It is easy when the days are sunny and warm. It's even easy when it's sunny and cold. Cold wet and stormy is a different story. You need to take a long view and move with greater purpose.