Saying 'Goodbye'

Looks like tomorrow I'll be selling Justus. It's a melancholy affair, but necessary. I'm glad she'll be going to a captain that will enjoy her as much as I have.

Tough, but necessary decision...

So, I've decided to put Justus up for sale. My current situation doesn't really afford me the luxury of owning a boat. So, somebody is going to make out like a bandit on this one. I'm offering the boat up for only $3000. If anybody is interested, send me a message. Currently, it's docked in Palm Coast, FL.

On the Hard for a week...

Well, aside from a brief trip back to Justus to do some cleaning and pick up some stuff I had left on board, I've been on the hard at my Mom's house for a week now. It's been nice, having extra space, and running water, etc... but I'll admit, I do miss being on the boat. Tomorrow, I'll be heading back up to Savannah for the night, to see The Collective Face's production of "Salome".

Finally done... pretty much.

Well, I've made it home. I pulled into Palm Coast marina in Palm Coast, FL on Wednesday, and my mom picked me up to head back to her house. I'm still planning on moving Justus a bit further down the coast, but for now, I'm happy to be done the trip.

"Kestler? Chrestman? Kastor?... Green Sailboat!"

I finally made it to Florida today. I left Savannah four days ago, and have anchored out every night since. It's been pretty lousy weather the whole time, overcast and chilly. One thing I discovered on this recent leg of the trip, is that I despise the Georgia section of the ICW. I'm sure it wouldn't be so bad in fair weather, but crossing all of the sounds in high winds and flood tides is no fun. Sapelo Sound was the first bad one, with pretty high winds, the current going against me for the majority of the time, and rough waves. I felt some relief when I reached the other side and dropped anchor for the night. The next day, I had to cross three more sounds, the two that were the worst were St. Simons and St. Andrews. St. Simons was pretty easy going for the first section, the wind and current were with me, and I was cruising along at around 7.4 knots. When I turned to starboard to complete the sound, that's where things got interesting. The waves picked up pretty fast, and the wind was relentless. Since my boat doesn't have a functioning centerboard, and only displaces 6600 lbs, it doesn't handle rough seas very well, so I was struggling to make it through the sound. I finally reached the other side, and briefly considered dropping anchor near Jekyll Island for the evening, but it was only around 2:30, and I still had three hours of daylight left. I decided to press on and tackle the next sound, St. Andrews. Again, not too bad heading out, almost no waves, and I was getting pretty good speed. Looking at the chart, I realized that the route would take me almost out to the Atlantic, and I have a shallow enough draft that I could just cut right across and shave almost an hour off my crossing. Good idea. Just as I turned to cross the sound, I heard someone come over the VHF, "Kestler? Chrestman? Kastor?... Green Sailboat!" I responded, "This is the Kestrel, send it" what came back over the radio both made me laugh and worry, "Conditions in the St. Andrews Sound are extremely rough, recommend you stay in Jekyll Island for the night" Too late. Around that time was when the conditions took a turn for the worst. The thing about sounds is, a lot of the time, the waves don't really come from the same direction, they just kind of pop up out of nowhere, like a kid thrashing around in a bathtub. I'm the rubber duckie. I fought through the rest of the sound, and made it into the river on the other side, when a Catamaran, the Cadenza came over the radio asking if I was looking for an anchorage for the night, and recommended a good spot near them. I dropped anchor for the night, drank my last beer, and went to sleep.
        This morning, I woke to high winds again, but, since I had timed my departure with the rising tide, didn't think that the Cumberland sound would be that bad. I was wrong. Before I had even made it out to the sound, still in the river inlet, I was experiencing three foot waves and high winds, tossing me all over the place. At one point, I went to gibe, and lost control of my jibsheet, the jib went flailing in the wind violently, and popped the shackle off the block. I furled the jib, and quickly went forward to repair the block, there was no way I could cross this sound without my jib. I fixed the shackle, unfurled my jib, and took off at about 6.5 knots. Again, I ignored the marked channel, and cut straight across. Until today, I had never buried my rails while just using my jib, but in 25-30kt winds with 4-5 foot waves, it happens. I came out the other side of the sound, and made my way to Amelia Island Yacht Basin. I was very excited to finally be secured to a dock again, and have some shelter from the wind. My excitement was premature, as I still had to deal with the entrance channel to the marina. To get here, I had to run perpendicular to the wind, which was still blowing at around 21kts. My little outboard couldn't fight the wind at such an angle, and I was blown out of the channel and ran aground a few meters away from some railroad tracks. After a significant amount of trouble trying to get ahold of Towboat U.S. I was hauled out of there. Now I get to sit back and relax for a day or two, until this wind dies down and the sun comes back out. I've had it with nasty weather for a while. That's why I came to Florida after all, sun and sand.

Morton Salt, eat your heart out.

Crossing St. Simons

Freebird

Finally moving on tomorrow. I've enjoyed my time in Savannah immensely, however, it's time to go. With my upgraded battery banks and increased fuel capacity, I should be able to run for about two days, sleeping a few hours at anchor, before refueling, and hopefully, I can go the remainder of the trip without needing to spend the night at a marina.

Happy Brithday, Marine Corps.

To the friends we've made, and the friends we've lost

May their memories be honored, no matter the cost.

Semper Fi.

Belay my last...

I think I'll be staying in Savannah for another week or two. I rather enjoy it here, aside from the cold.

And the beat goes on.

After about ten days in Savannah, I'm finally ready to continue on my journey. I added two new batteries to my system today, and a third six-gallon fuel tank. Hopefully, I'll be able to go for a few days at a time now without having to stop at a marina. I'm only about 130 miles from the Florida border, and I hope to cross that line by Friday evening.

    One thing this trip has done for me so far is renew my faith in the kindness of strangers. It almost seems as though every person I've met had a meeting before I started, and arranged a competition to see who can be the kindest and most helpful. That being the case, Mary at Savannah Bend Marina is shooting for the top spot. Not only has she let me use her car several times to go out in town and run errands, but the other day, she "forgot" to ring me up for some groceries in the ship's store. This morning, she stopped down by my slip with three bags full of stuff for me.

Win.

Yesterday I undertook the task of moving my sleeping quarters from the salon double berth to the v-berth. It was a long, arduous task to shuffle all of my stuff around since I had been using the v-berth as a storage area, but it was well worth the trouble. It feels like I've just upgraded from a studio apartment to a one bedroom, there's so much more usable space down below now. Added bonus; it's warmer in the v-berth, which is a big plus, since it's been dipping into the 30's at night here. I can't wait to get down to warmer climes. 

Rest in peace, HMS Bounty

The sailing world lost something of an icon today, with the sinking of the HMS Bounty. Claimed by the sea 90 miles southwest of Hatteras, NC during Hurricane Sandy. Fourteen of the sixteen crew members were rescued by the coast guard shortly after the distress call was sent out, and one of the two missing crew members, Claudene Christian, was found several hours later. The Captain, Robin Walbridge, is still missing. This struck a particular chord with me, since a good friend of mine used to crew the ship, and I had considered doing so myself recently. To the friends and family of Capt. Walbridge, my prayers and thoughts are with you.

Well, THAT was anticlimactic.

     I guess that Savannah was the perfect place to ride out the storm, because all I got here was about 20kt of wind for about two days. Not a single drop of rain. To all of my friends and family up north that are reading this, sorry. I woke up this morning, expecting it to be another windy, overcast day, and, to my surprise, it's beautiful, a light breeze, clear skies and a comfortable temperature.
     Again, I've managed to find a great marina, Savannah Bend Marina, in Thunderbolt, GA. I've been here for two days now, and will be here for another couple days until my final paycheck from the Marines clears. Today, one of the ladies that works here, Mary, let me borrow her car to go run errands out in town. I had forgotten how amazing Goodwill is, I managed to get some new clothes, a strainer, and a new pot to replace the one at the bottom of the river in South Carolina, all for about $17.

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing...

So, I went offshore the other day, just outside of Edisto Island, SC. I only stayed out for a bit, since the seas were pretty rough, and Justus doesn't handle too well in rough water, since she doesn't have a functioning centerboard.

The dolphins keep me company most days.

      I came back in and continued on the ICW for a while. I stopped just north of Beaufort, SC and dropped anchor for the night. In the morning, I took off south again, and my first leg of the day was the Port Royal sound. I found it a bit ironic that I was sailing past Parris Island almost four years to the day after I first set foot on the yellow footprints for boot camp there. I linked up with two other sailboats, EZ Breeze, and Pyewacket, whom I had seen earlier in NC while waiting for a bridge. Usually, I'm the slowest boat on the water, but I managed to keep up with the two of them for the majority of the crossing.

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      We had about 20kts of wind and pretty rough water during the crossing, so we all only had our jibs up, most of the time reefed, and we were still making about seven kt/h. It was pretty fun, until, just as I was about to reach the end of the sound, a huge motor-yacht came speeding past me, very close, and kicked up a huge wake, which, along with the 2-3 foot waves, served to knock me around like a rubber duckie.

       After leaving Port Royal, I continued on the fair waters of the ICW, keeping track of my progress in my chartbook, (I decided not to use GPS yesterday) and was amazed at the progress that I was making. I crossed into Georgia at around 4:30 pm, and had my mind set on making it to Savannah Bend Marina. The ony thing that was between me and my goal was a bascule bridge that opened for the last time at 5:30. About a mile before the bridge, my outboard started giving me problems, spitting and sputtering. I made it to the bridge, with about a minute to spare, and they closed when I was no more than 200 feet away. After cursing the name of the bridge operator, I turned back to head to another marina I had seen.

      I pulled in to the marina, only to see a sign that said "private - no trespassing". Just after seeing the sign, my motor died on me. I had to use the current, which, thank God, was at my stern, to coast in to an open slip. When I got close enough, I realized that at my current angle of approach, I would slam in to the dock. I grabbed my stern-line, and jumped over about four feet of water onto the dock to catch Justus as she slid in. I secured my lines and set my fenders, and then walked up the dock to speak with the man who was on shore, watching this whole debacle. 

      Turns out, the man, Bill, didn't work at the marina, he just lived in the community and was out for a ride in his golf cart. He gave me a ride to the front gate, to speak with the guard about staying for the evening. She made several calls, and eventually, got the "Okay" for me to stay. Bill drove me back to the dock, and then went home, only to return a few minutes later with a bag full of beer and ice. He showed me where the shower and bathroom were, and informed me of an ice machine in the lounge, to which I could help myself. I grabbed every bag I had on board that night, and filled them with ice, about 60lbs. 

      This morning, I woke up early, had breakfast, and went to work on the motor. I cranked and cranked, but she wouldn't turn over. I opened up the carb, nothing wrong there. Pulled the spark plugs, and they were filthy. I spent a few minutes cleaning each one as best I could, and then reinserted them. A few more cranks, and the motor gurgled to life! I adjusted the mixture, played with the choke, and she was running like a top. 

      About half an hour later, after calling to reserve a slip at Savannah Bend Marina, I headed out. Approaching the bridge, I realized that they open on demand, and my VHF was nearly useless since my batteries were almost dead. I managed to get across the information they needed, and they opened up for me. About a mile and a half down the ditch, and I came to the marina. There were two guys out on the dock to help bring me in, and thank God too. The current and wind were both at my back, so, even with the throttle all the way down, I was still going at about 2.4kt. Unfortunately, I wasn't as graceful during this docking as I have been previously. My bow slammed into the dock, and rose up into the air as it recoiled from the shock. I must have gone white. We managed to get Justus tied off, and I went to inspect the bow. Just some scraped paint and a little ding, no big deal. 

     I'll be staying here for about a week while I ride out the approaching storm, and make some preparations for the next leg of the trip.

What do batteries, anchors, and glowsticks have in common?

After my adventure getting in to Charleston, I rested for the evening, and in the morning, went out to a grocery store to restock my galley. After carrying about 30 pounds of canned goods back to the boat, I shoved off and was on my way. I had set my heart on making it to Edisto Island before I stopped. At around 6pm, I realized that I wouldn't make it to Edisto by sundown, and decided to continue on into the night. About three hours later, I was five miles from Edisto Marina, and my batteries were completely dead. I was navigating with a chart and flashlight, and trying my hardest to find the green and red markers along the channel. I reached the turning point to the Marina, and wisely decided to drop anchor for the night rather than continue on. Luckily, the previous owner of my boat thought ahead, and kept several glow-sticks on board, I used these to mimic my now-dead running lights and anchor light. In the morning, I called Edisto Marina, to make sure that they had a spot for me, they did. I studied the chart of the area quickly, and determined that I had a pretty good idea of how to get there. Boy was I wrong! The St. Helena Sound is probably the most poorly marked body of water I've crossed so far on my trip. There were markers where there should be no markers, incorrectly numbered markers, and absolutely no "danger" bouys to designate the numerous shoals in the area. There's no way I could have made this trip blind at night. I arrived at the marina shortly after 1pm, and have been tackling several projects since then. I'm planning on leaving from here to go offshore tomorrow and try to make Hilton Head or further depending on the wind and my speed.

200 miles down...

Well, not quite 200, closer to 194, but who's counting, right? I had some trouble on the 14th when I ran out of gas just shy of Little River, SC. I had been trying to make it to Myrtle Beach that night, so I was running my motor at near full throttle for a few hours. Just before I crossed the state line into South Carolina, I ran out of gas, and the current pushed me towards the shore, landing me firmly on the muddy embankment. I called for a tow, and about 20 minutes later, that wonderful red boat showed up. The captain, Brian, was an incredibly nice guy, and gave me about four gallons of gas for $16, then towed me out. I tried several times to get my motor started, but it just kept failing me. Brian turned around and hooked up to me again, and pulled me to his marina, Cricket Cove, in Little River. I spent the majority of the evening at the restaurant/bar, Snooky's, had a great time there, chatting with the staff and some other customers. The next morning, I went up to the office and explained my situation to the owner, Bill. He told me that he'd cut me a deal on the dockage rate, since that's not where I wanted to end up. I tried to take off in the morning, but the motor failed again. After exhausting my knowledge of 2-stroke outboards, I decided to let it rest for a while and occupy my mind with something else. I restored most of the teak on my deck, and while doing so, was approached by a man whom, at first, I thought was homeless. Turns out, he was the owner of a 42' ketch rig that was a few slips away from me. We talked for a while, and then went over to his boat for a few beers. We spent about three hours discussing sailing, politics, every war since WWII, and the general state of things. He's 68 now, and has been sailing since he was around eight years old, so needless to say, I learned quite a bit from him. We parted ways when I realized that I had not had dinner yet, and wanted to go back up to Snooky's. I went to my boat to grab my wallet, only to discover that I had misplaced it. I searched the entire boat from bow to stern, and couldn't find it anywhere. I went up to the bar to ask if anybody had turned it in, no suck luck. I ordered dinner and a beer, since I know my card info off the top of my head. When I went to pay, I was told that Rich, the manager, had covered my bill. The next morning, I woke at around 7:30, and found Bob outside my boat, holding my wallet! It had slipped out of my pocket on his boat the night prior. I went up to the office to settle my bill and buy some gas, and then headed off south. I made it about 100 meters, when my motor started dying. I brought it back to the marina, and called a technician to come take a look at it. Everett, from Sea Pups, came out to work on it. He rebuilt the carb and fiddled with the fuel pump a bit, but couldn't find anything wrong. We finally determined that I just need to run it with the choke lever about 1/4 the way out. He only charged me for an hour of work, despite spending nearly two on my boat. I stayed one more night, and then headed out this morning. with two full gas tanks and a reserve, I was able to make it about 38 miles to Reserve Yacht Club in Pawley's Creek, SC. I almost had to stop a few hours earlier, due to my batteries coming close to dying, but the sun came out from behind the clouds for a while and gave me just enough charge off my solar panel for the GPS and VHF to continue working. I'm hoping to make a long run to Charleston tomorrow, or at least Isle Of Palms. 

Had some company going through New River, NC

Another victim of NC shoaling (and poor judgement)

Justus felt big, until these two showed up.

First leg's over

I've started my journey down to Florida. I did about 25 miles yesterday, from New Bern to a marina near havelock. Good news, it was free beer night! Bad news, it was $45 to dock there. I set sail at around 9:00 this morning, with about 20kt wind across my beam. All was well until I got seriously rocked by the wake of a Navy vessel and heeles a little too far for my comfort. I righted myself, only to be rocked by another large boat with no concern for the measley sailboat it was passing, and decided that it would be better if I took down my jib for a while to make it a bit easier to handle in the busy waters of the Beaufort area. I made it out past morehead city to ICW marker 12 when my depth finder.decided that it didn't feel like working anymore. Shouldn't be a problem I figured, I'll just follow the markers. No sooner had I finished that thought than I ran aground on a shoal just past marker 13. I tried everything to free myself, but to no avail. I ended up calling the coast gaurd for a tow. They sent out a boat and got me unstuck, after which they told me the price. $643! Good news was, I'm a member of BOATU.S. and they have a tow plan. Bad news is, my tow plan membership only covers $50. So I paid half and told him to bill me the rest. After that I was on my way, but there was no wind! I sat there, stubbornly refusing to bring down my sails and motor, as a 32' Catamaran passed me by, happily motoring along, making gestures to me to see if I was alright. "I'm alright, just stubborn to the point of idiocy some times" I thought as I watched them glide away. Finally, I came to my senses and realized that I'd never make swansboro by sundown if I didn't motor. So I cranked my outboard and was on my way. I did enjoy the company of some passing dolphins and a few Marine Corps CH-53 helicopters. I pulled in to Dudley's Marina in swansboro at around 6:15 and am glad to be able to rest for a while... after I go to the bar :)

Getting ready to set off

This weekend will be my last chance to get Justus ready for my journey down to Florida. I've still got some work to do, but I'm confident that she'll be ready in time. Mostly, I just need to stock up on food and water, and get the head functioning properly. Next weekend, I drive down to Florida, leave my car at my Mom's house, and fly back up. I get out of the Marine Corps on the 8th, and then Begin sailing down. Still need to plot my course and stops, and figure out when I'll be going offshore, and when I'll be using the ICW. I'm really excited, and a bit nervous, but it's the good kind of nervous. 

Fredrika Stahl

My new favorite artist. Especially great to listen to after a day of sailing, while I'm just kicking back topside with a drink in my hand and the moon overhead.

Fredrika Stahl

Please, support her if you enjoy her music.

Perfect day of sailing

Initially, we weren't going to go out, but a friendly neighbor convinced us to. Man, was it worth it! We hit about 6 knots for 13knm. Got about 25° of heel for a lot of it. Flanked by storm clouds, the wind was perfect across the beam the entire time.

"Never tell a man what he 'can't' do"

“To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea… “cruising” it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

“I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.” What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of “security.” And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine – and before we know it our lives are gone.

What does a man need – really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in – and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all – in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer?

In choice. Which shall it be – bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?”

Once in a Blue Moon

The day started as many long weekends in the Marine Corps have; An unneccessarily early wake-up, followed by a room inspection to make sure that we were all good boys and cleaned up so we can go play on the weekend. A long span of nothing, followed by a formation at noon to get off for the weekend. Immediately after being released, Daniel and I loaded up the car and headed off base. After sitting in bumper to bumper traffic for what felt like an eternity, we made it to highway 17, and were on our way to Washington, NC to take a look at the boat Daniel was thinking about buying. At around 1500, we got to John's place and went to look at the boat, a 1970 Irwin 28.5' sloop. The boat was in great shape, and fits Daniel's needs perfectly, he made an agreement to buy it in October, and after hanging out for a bit longer, we headed off to the marina to work on my boat, Justus. On the way to my slip, I met a guy named Mark, (the second Mark at the Marina so far that I've met) who was very friendly, as has been everyone I've encountered there so far. I boarded Justus, and opened her up. I got down below, and checked her out to see how she weathered the recent storm. I was actually glad that it rained on Thursday, because it gave me the chance to ensure that the leak fix from last weekend worked. It did. I set up the coffee maker that I bought, and tested out the head, I had been concerned that the head wouldn't work, but was pleasantly surprised when, after a minute of pumping the manual handle, everything was in working order. One of my main missions for the afternoon was to take measurments for a board to turn my settee into a double berth, but I had forgotten to pick up a measuring tape. Daniel stopped by the office and asked Mike if he had one, and sure enough, he did. A few minutes after Daniel got to the boat, my port-side neighbors arrived, and we greeted each-other. David and Anna, a couple about seventy years old, invited Daniel and I aboard their boat to go out into the harbour and link up with eight other boats to watch the sun go down, and the blue moon come up. Being a very rare opportunity, we agreed. We boarded their ship and set off into the harbour. Along the way, we both learned a bit about marina navigation and regulations. Pulling up to the cluster of boats, a mixture of sailboats, motorboats, and one impressive catamaran, we came along the port side and tied off to the next boat. This was a learning experience in itself, effectively docking with other boats, all using one central anchor. I learned how to tie off a line to a cleat, and the difference between actual and apparent wind. It's pretty cool to know that the wind is blowing at around eight knots, and not be able to feel it at all because you're moving in the same direction at the same speed. After lashing together and settling in, David and Anna broke out the snacks and wine. We settled into friendly conversation, and people from other boats started coming over, soon enough, the deck was filled with people, all but us over sixty years old. We were enjoying the conversation, and suddenly, Daniel and the woman next to him began singing "Blue Moon" by Ella Fitzgerald. A fitting song. The sun set at 1924, and the moon began to rise at around 1938. We were invited to come aboard the center boat, an amazing thirty-six foot sailboat (I'm not sure of the make or model), and we hung out with the owner and his wife, and the owner and wife of the catamaran to port. We stayed there for about half an hour, until David turned on the deck light on his ship, signalling that he was ready to depart. We released from the boats on both sides of us, and headed off towards the marina. It was very dark, and David couldn't see the markers to guide us back in, so Daniel operated the spotlight to find the markers. Anna and I stood on the aft deck and watched the moon glisten on the water for a bit, "Isn't that amazing?" she said, to which I replied, "The way I see it, God saw fit to make the world 72% water, we were meant to be on it". We pulled back in to the dock and lashed the boat to the cleats. Daniel and I returned to Justus, where I finally took the measurments for the settee board, and tested out all of the lights on board. Before we left, Daniel got David and Anna's phone number so we could stay in touch. David has offered to go out on Justus with us and teach us the finer points of sailing. He had been considering buying her before I did, because he misses sailing so much, and is happy to have met, and befriended the new owner. All in all, there were many lessons learned, and many jokes told tonight. I still haven't stopped smiling, it has been a very long time since I've felt so satisfied and happy.

Today, after several months of searching the internet for a suitable boat, I found this 1969 Irwin 27' sloop, the Kestrel. I first looked at her yesterday, and felt at home immediately. The previous owner had to leave for Africa due to work, and left the boat in the charge of Mike at the marina to sell for him. The owner didn't care how much she sold for, as long as she sold and he could stop paying the insurance and slip fees. I got her for a steal at only $3500. Like any boat of her age, she has some problems; so far, I've found five wasp nests tucked away in cabinets and storage spaces, as well as ants in a few compartments. Mike has been kind enough to let me borrow his wasp killer spray. Daniel and I spent about an hour on the boat, looking through each compartment, and discovering all the items and tools left behind by the previous owner. Some of the more interesting items found were a crucifix from Jerusalem, a flask (intact with Jack Daniels) from Thailand, an unopened bottle of wine from 2003, the Captain's log, and half a bottle of rum. After looking around for a while, we went up to the office to meet with Mike and Sherri (the notary for the company) to finalize the sale. Mike told us the story and showed us the pictures of his trans-atlantic solo trip, which completely captivated us. Sherri came in and we filled out the paperwork, I handed over $3500 cash (the most I've ever held at one time), and Mike and I shook hands. The boat was mine. Daniel and I spent another two or three hours cleaning the galley and midship, scrubbing walls and counters, polishing brass and looking for more things to clean. We left at around 1700, with the intention of returning to finish cleaning the interior tomorrow. The journey has begun.

Sheep's clothes

"A gentleman is simply a patient wolf" ~Lana Turner

Well put, Lana. Well put

Direction

This is pretty much all I want out of life.

I sit here, taking in my surroundings. They are familiar, yet foreign. I long to be on the other side of the fence, where the grass is surely greener. I've been told several times, by several people that it's not as glorious as it seems, yet still, I long. I'm meant for a higher purpose, some may say that the things I've experienced and seen are the higher purpose, yet still I want more. This seems to be the driving force behind the sails of my life; to want more. Surely there will be more to follow.