Saturday, April 2, 2011

The Man Boat

Living on Strolla had always been a bit rustic, but when Becca left us, life aboard ship devolved into is most basic masculine form.  All prior restraint was now gone.  None of us had been wearing underwear for quite some time by this point but, now Mark gave up on clothing all together.  Most mornings after that, the only thing he wore during his morning calisthenics on the foredeck, were a pair of sunglasses.  Nate took to picking his cuticles and scraping the dead skin from his back with a 3.5 ft machete he'd bought in the Dominican Republic.  The blade had rusted deeply in the damp salt air and the boat was filled with Nate's rusty brown shavings.  

All of us have given up on using dishes.  We were tired of cleaning them. The preferred method aboard Strolla had always been to wash the dirty dishes in a bucket of sea water out in the cockpit, scrub them good, and then into the cabin for a quick rinse in the sink with the fresh water.  This dramatically conserved our fresh water stores and got us at least another week between fill ups.  However, depending on where we'd anchored for the night and the cleanliness of the harbor water there, it was at times questionable if this system actually made the dishes cleaner.

With Becca no longer there to hold the line, the pots remained dirty on the stove top and the snippings of the meal before became the base for the meal to come, like sourdough bread.  Our personal bowls and silverware went into the sink the first day out of St. Lucia so that they didn't go flying across the cabin while we were underway.  There, they had hands washed over them and cans strained on them, so there they stayed.  We now eat off our bodies, hands, thighs, and lap. 

 If the conditions are right, and the meal is big enough to require the extra space, we'll lie flat on our backs and eat off our stomachs.  This has the added advantage of allowing the belly button to be used to hold dipping sauces and seasonings.  Cleanup is simple.  We just roll our bare, sun browned bodies over the side like sea elephants.  We float beside the boat motionlessly, and the little fishes of these tropical waters come over and do the cleaning for us.  Truly a tropical paradise we live in.

1 comment:

  1. Nice. I hear they're sending someone out from National Geographic to see how a primitive species at sea lives.