Christmas at sea

Brilliant!

Fantastic!! What a spirit lifter... maybe we could each add a verse:

Oh, I must go down to the sea again

To see what the morrow brings

Let's all lift some spirits - so have a cup o' grog!!

Mayhaps it'll keep away the fog

Until the morning comes...

Oh, I must go out on the sea again,
To shake these dockside blues.
Though the land can be swell,
It's all going to hell,
And I'm lucky I'm able to choose.

Love your poem!

Oh, I must go sail on the seas again
For on land I am growing roots.
I hardly go out,
Living laptop-to-snout,
'Cause this sailor must earn her own loot.

Oh, we must stay down on the sea again
To feel the Christmas wind bite.
Family can't understand
Why we still think it's grand
To be rocking and rolling all night.

We must go down to the sea again,

Of the salt air,

take a sniff

Good thing the boat is on the hard,

The water is mighty stiff.

"It's better to be ashore wishing you were at sea, than at sea wishing you were ashore."

(The former is generally inspired by longing, the latter by panic.)

Oh I must go to sea again
for the land won't have me no more.
I'll take of me shoes,
and play me some tunes
And never again see a lawyer.

Christmas at sea would actually be an unique experience... Why didn't I think of that before, I am passioned in boating and this idea sounds great to me. Thanks for the tip, I usually have my canal boat holiday in summer season…

I took my previous boat down through the French canals one winter.

It was f***ing freezing.

I kept hoping that the further south I went the warmer it would get.

It got colder!

I pulled into a basin just off the river Saône for a night only to find next morning that the basin was frozen over and freezing fog had settled over the river. By the beginning of December, I had managed to reach Shalon sur Saône where there is a small marina with mains electric. The wind was so bitter I bought a fan heater plugged it in and huddled in my cabin for several days until things warmed up slightly.

By mid December, the weather had improved enough for me to get to Lyon and on to the river Rhone. Unfortunately, it was also warmer in the Alps, which resulted in a lot of snow-melt draining into the Rhone. Luckily, I made it to another basin at a place called Les Roches before the swollen river became too dangerous for small boats. And that is where I spent Christmas, not as in the Mediterranean as I had planned but closeted with in my cabin with the heater going full blast.

But the village was pleasant the locals were friendly and the wine and food were superb.

I did eventually make it to the Mediterranean.

  Mike

I also was delayed when a couple of years later I went through the Midi Canal from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic coast at Bordeaux and that was in summer time.

Instead of the two weeks I had planned, it took me two months.

However, it wasn’t the weather that held me up.

It was the company and the wine. And the sceney and the food and the history and the wonderfully relaxed Frenchness. Le je ne sais quoi.

Mais, je ne regretted rien.

Mike.

To Sea in a Hi-Tech Boat

I must go down to the sea again, in a modern high-tech boat,
And all I ask is electric, for comfort while afloat,
And alternators, and solar panels, and generators going,
And deep cycle batteries with many amperes flowing.

I must go down to the sea again, to the autopilot's ways,
And all I ask is a GPS, and a radar, and displays,
And a cell phone, and a weatherfax, and a shortwave radio,
And compact disks, computer games and TV videos.

I must go down to the sea again, with a freezer full of steaks,
And all I ask is a microwave, and a blender for milkshakes,
And a watermaker, air-conditioner, hot water in the sink,
And e-mail and a VHF to see what my buddies think.

I must go down to the sea again, with power-furling sails,
And chart displays of all the seas, and a bullhorn for loud hails,
And motors pulling anchor chains, and push-button sheets,
And programs which take full charge of tacking during beats.

I must go down to the sea again, and not leave friends behind,
And so they never get seasick we'll use the web online,
And all I ask is an Internet with satellites over me,
And beaming all the data up, my friends sail virtually.

I must go down to the sea again, record the humpback whales,
Compute until I decipher their language and their tales,
And learn to sing in harmony, converse beneath the waves,
And befriend the gentle giants as my synthesizer plays.

I must go down to the sea again, with RAM in gigabytes,
and teraflops of processing for hobbies that I like,
And software suiting all my wants, seated at my console
And pushing on the buttons which give me complete control.

I must go down to the sea again, my concept seems quite sound,
But when I simulate this boat, some problems I have found.
The cost is astronomical, repairs will never stop,
Instead of going sailing, I'll be shackled to the dock.

I must go down to the sea again, how can I get away?
Must I be locked in low-tech boats until my dying day?
Is there no cure for my complaint, no technologic fix?
Oh, I fear this electric fever is a habit I can't kick.

{ Originally from MultiHulls magazine (author unknown). }

Brillig!

I’ve seen a few boats like that, cluttering up marinas. Rarely seen one at sea though.

Frabjous!

Mike

I always found equipped boats as being very cozy. They don't have much space but they sure are designed to save the space as much as possible. I think we could use this space saving concepts in ordinary kitchens. I also think that big manufacturers like Frigidaire parts should think about a new approach, about making less standardized appliances, I am sure this idea would bring them great success.