Dec 14 2007
Aware of the Wind
The last two mornings have had the most spectacular sunrises.
This morning, the entire sky was puffy and pink and purple and red, stretching across the entire eastern horizon, with colors deepening across half an hour of my time. So spectacular that I didn’t even want to photograph it, because these things never come out like you saw them. So spectacular that I didn’t even tear myself away to go put the teakettle on. I just stood there in awe, leaning against the icy glass doors of the salon, trying to imprint the colors on the backs of my eyes, to take out and savor every time I closed them against the glare of the computer during the workday.
Yesterday’s was pretty neat too, although not quite as overall breathtaking. One small stripe of cloud, blood-red like someone had gashed a line above the Berkeley Hills with a dull razor.
Go ahead, ask me why I’m up for the sunrise.
It’s because of the wind. Right before the sun comes up, the wind both strengthens and shifts. And when you live on a boat, you get used to being at least subliminally aware of what the wind is doing.
When we first took possession of the boat, back in Puerto Rico, I surprised myself by shooting up out of a sound sleep to slam the hatches shut against a tropical squall that blew in over a clear and calm night. Thinking back, I realized that what had woken me was the pressure shift of the leading wind front bouncing the boat. The next two nights I also woke up a few seconds before the rain started. Even new to boat dwelling, the back of my brain knew what mattered. It still makes me smile.
So here we are in the Bay, and the same thing is happening. I don’t notice the prevailing westerlies so much any more, but in the pre-dawn, the last few days, the wind has done this wicked backing to the northeast, which is directly opposite the way our mooring lines are tied, and slams us up against our fenders to the dock. We’re a worthy boat with minimal windage, so it’s not that big a deal (not like the cabin cruisers we’re surrounded by, which bob like weebles even in light air), but it’s still something different, that my back brain alerts me to. And once I’ve been woken, I might as well get up…
The reward of the sunrises has been pretty thoroughly worth it, though. Worth getting out of my warm bed into a frigid boat (we have a space heater, one, and that’s it), worth being the first one up, she who starts the tea, she who starts the heater up and endures the slow creep to bearable ambient temperature.
And some mornings, the sky says to me “every single moment is worth it; don’t be so bogged down in your email and your to-do list and your chores. Look at what’s happening, right here.”
That’s my reward for staying aware of the wind.
Golly sounds like me, only light wakes me up. Soon as the sky starts to lighten my eyes pop open and that’s the end of sleep. I also start the heater and make coffee. Then the sun starts coming over mountains and the colors are awesome. Pinks, orange, purple. A couple times I have woken Allen just so he can see. But he just says oh and goes back to sleep. He’s a knight person lol. Me mornings are the best, and the sunrises just make it better.