And the Tide Come In, And the Tide Go Out…

We named our boat log Leaky Little Boat, because the lyrics to that song (by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers) align well with this adventure of ours.  The experience of floating around on a leaky little boat is both our reality (living on a sailboat that, like all boats, requires continual repair and maintenance) and a metaphor (for the ups and downs of this life).  

“I awake from a long, deep sleep
In a leaky little boat on a wide blue sea
I spy no island, rock, or shore
And the sea, she’s a-comin’ to me through a hole in the floor”

We “awoke” from a dream of traditional life with common routines and familiar challenges, to this vagabond life, literally sailing around the ocean with new challenges to face.  It’s exhilarating.  The impending struggles give us purpose, or at least something to think on.

“And the tide come in and the tide go out
And the waves they come knock my little boat about 
And the sky turn black and the sky turn blue
I got no pail, no sail, no anchor, too
Just a leaky little boat”

As you know if you have followed along, we have lots of ups, balanced by some downs.  Much of our time is spent figuring out how to make do.  We learn how to live in parts of the world that are new to us with the resources that they have, and we learn how to repair (sometimes creatively) the boat with the tools that are available.  

“And as I wake I look around
I have no notion where I’m bound
So many different colored boats I see
Are all leaky, lonely, and driftin’ 
Just like me”

The biggest resource that we have found during our wander about the ocean is community—among our fellow sailors, in the people of the places we temporarily call home, and through friends and family, including you.  Even though, as you no doubt are aware, our direction, schedule, and goals constantly change, the community remains.

“Alone, adrift together are we
Slowly sinkin’ in a deep blue sea
But we smile and we wave
And we say, ‘I’m afraid…and I love you…and here we go…”

Sometimes that deep blue sea—literally as the ocean, and metaphorically as life—seems formidable.  But then we see the blue sky ahead and remember that we are not alone in facing it.  We recognize that fear can be positive in that it focuses and motivates.  And we are ready for more adventure.

Some of you know that we have been focused on a new “hole in the floor” of our life.  Rob was diagnosed with cancer in May, after we hauled the boat for the hurricane season and while we were visiting the United States.  Still, we are supremely lucky.  Although the cancer was at an advanced stage, preventing a quicker surgical cure, it is a type of cancer that is almost always curable.  His cancer started on his tongue, caused by a strain of Human Papilloma Virus, and spread to three of his lymph nodes.  

We spent the last six months in doctors’ offices.  Rob spent much of August through October in bed, when he wasn’t getting cooked with laser beams (radiation) and injected with poison (chemotherapy).  He lost over 60 pounds.  He did not consume any food by mouth for two months, forced to pump calories in the form of Boost shakes through a tube that protruded out of his stomach.  All of that, while having no energy to do anything but watch videos.  He usually chose to watch YouTube food blogger channels.  

The experience made us realize how much revolves around food.  Food makes us happy, gives us a creative outlet, is a way to explore other cultures, and is the center of almost all social gatherings.  The feeding tube and inability to swallow made the cancer “hole in the boat” seem like a much bigger leak.  

Rob made it through the treatment, he is starting to enjoy food again, and we made it back to our boat.  We are presently doing some land travel near the boat’s current position at the border of Mexico and Guatemala.  And we are eating as much as we can! (Rob’s appetite is still not back, but it is getting there.)

I want to emphasize that life is full of ups during the downs.  We had a lot of good times sprinkled into the past six months.  Our community was a huge part of those good times and a key part to Rob’s successful recovery.  We are greatly appreciative of the quality time that this forced slow-down permitted us with some family and friends.  While we waited for the scheduled treatment start-date, we went on an Alaskan cruise with friends and visited other friends in Washington and Oregon.  Rob was also able to attend Muay Thai Camp in Oregon (a big community for him).  After treatment, we hosted a group of our friends from Puerto Peñasco for a Jiu Jitsu Camp in Phoenix (again, a huge community for Rob), and we spent time with some of our Arizona crew.   

We have one more major medical appointment in January—the PET scan that will tell us that the treatment was successful.  Then, Mapache 2.0 will go back in the water, and we will smile and wave and say, “I’m afraid…and I love you…and here we go!”

Thank you all for being here for us.  We received so much support from everyone and we really do love you.   Here’s to the next part of the adventure.