Friendship and Fun

My best pal is an odd man, and I love him for it. A mix of contradictions and symmetries, riddles and clarity. Among his oddities is that he does not love the ocean as much as I do. How can that be? He does not like wind, or being cold or wet. He is a wildlife tracker, and a rock climber, and an elf in the forest, but water is not his world.

After all these years of my kayaking and sailing, he had yet to ever join me on a boat. Sailing has been the guiding principle of my life for ten years, and yet my best friend had not so much as raised a sail once.

We fixed that this past week! He came up from his cozy confines in Marin County, CA and I took him up to Friday Harbor for an overnight on Aeolus. He was game, but worried about getting seasick and the wind and other things he needn't have been worried about.

On our journey north to Stuart Island we did manage to raise sail for a little while before the wind died. At least he got to feel how a sailboat flies for a little while. We dropped anchor in Reid Harbor and went out for a hike to a nearby peak. On the way there he was tracking and had us stop when he heard a cacophony of birds up near the school. We stood for a while listening to a righteous chorus of angry birds when suddenly a great horned owl flew from the forest and cruised off, followed by many of his worst enemies. Broad daylight! By listening to the bird language in the forest we had tuned in to a real life drama and were able to see the majesty of a big owl fly right nearby. Wow.

We visited my favorite tree up at the top of the ridge: the big-leafed maple whose crown of green and airy branches altogether convey a powerful impression. We sat there, the tree and me, until only the tree remained.

My friend wandered and I found our favorite family spot up there, including the little sacred place where Owen made an Owen-world out of rocks and logs. I spread out on the bed of moss and did some yoga in the sun and slight breeze. Heaven.

After a great night with great lights, we slipped over to Jones Island for him to see a second locale. While walking around the island we came across a racoon on the trail who proceeded to deftly climb a large doug fir right in front of us. He scaled it like a squirrel, with arms and legs splayed wide. About 30 feet up the tree bent flat and a young coon was up there waiting for the parent. Must have been a day bed. They both looked down at us like all racoons, with a look of utter superiority and disdain.

So my friend sailed for the first time and now he can relate to how I spend my time. And he helped me see some wildlife I wouldn't have seen otherwise. Great friend, great trip.