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Hi Friends,

The last underway missive and a thought on the first week home.

Wayne, Kai and Paul got me home safely, and with the camaraderie of good crew I had little time to reflect on the finish of Gypsy Soul’s circumnavigation. It was an easy no- danger crossing; we even motored for about 2 of the days as the gulf was like a still pond. The most excitement we had been in screaming fishing lines and laughing banter.

Kai hauled in his biggest fish ever while Wayne and I, like stereo, yelled contradictory instruction into each of his ears, we gaffed the 50+ pound bull Mahi Mahi (Dorado) into the cockpit and were holler-cheer-laughing at Kia to kill it as it was near taking off the steering binnacle with frantically a sweeping tail. Like a surgeon he punched a knife into its spine, like ‘Lord of the Flies’ kids we cheered him on. It was all on movie camera….but alas poor Kais’ work had just begun. “It’s your fish, you clean it… The cockpit looks like carnage from a slaughterhouse, clean it too”. No mercy for the weary, Kai had been fighting that fish for no less than 30 minutes. So with bulging biceps and that shit eating grin of every man-hunter going back to the Stone Age, the one of the successful hunter/provider and his biggest trophy, Kai filleted and scrubbed. He toasted Neptune in the tradition of the Gypsy Soul, thanked the fish as he tossed the carcass over the side, and lunch of course was Mahi shortly thereafter. The rest, since we had no refrigeration and ice seemed unanimously designated for sundowners, we made jerky with. The next day was Paul’s turn manning the lines when we hooked up, and though this was also to be his biggest fish caught ever, the same size Mahi, there was a subtle difference . Paul is also a live-a-board cruiser, and he enjoyed taking instruction while trying to give it back like “Bring the boat into the wind!” “Get back on course!” of which we did neither and answered in laughs and hazing about loosing his fish if he didn’t pay attention. Kai’s ‘grin-apparent’ was that of ‘I feel your pain’ but his words were “Welcome to my world”. Camera rolling again Paul followed ritual toasts to Nep, fish and cockpit cleaning, then a meal of his own fruits of labor within the hour. We caught over 250 pounds of fish on the crossing, and I am still eating dorado jerky today.

Now to give them each a little tweak a little later…. Wayne and I, and every other crewman aboard the Gypsy Soul in her history of circumnavigation, have always shared the work load. One catches and cleans, the other cleans the cockpit. But since these occasions were both their biggest fish ever caught and so many years had passed since last they were aboard and rules had not bee well established back then, they were easy prey to take advantage of. Kudos to their stoic perseverance, and tough shit to the following days of aching forearms. I don’t feel you pain boys, sorry, but I laugh with mutual entertainment…. Want some jerky?

We sailed into the Galveston Ship Channel early morning of the 7th day and with the normal focus of entering a channel it took the guys congrats to bring my attention to the fact that the circumnavigation was over. We made a tack to waiting cameras from the Austin American Statesman and sailed for some hours through the bay to where we would meet them. We were an hour early due to the fortune of tide and wind so we dropped anchor and did a quick boat cleaning befor tying dock-side. (Always clean your home before guests, especially Mom’s.)

Armed with Machetes and pirate eye-patches we sailed again to meet the cameras at the bars near the entrance of Clear Lake. We tied the Ole Soul up to a dock and met family and cameras a third time, Paul’s and Kai’s families were there also, Kai’s parents brought Mom, Wayne’s wife Kim was there also, Champaign flowed, mom interviewed on video, we loaded the boat up and made our way to the marina. Tied dockside safely back in Texas for the first time in 7 1/2 years, Gypsy Soul rested, and a surprise barbeque party was thrown for me on the Clear Lake shore, and I was thrown into Clear Lake, some of the foulest water on the face of the earth, of which I can fully attest to as I have seen a lot of it. Those fuckers are each going to be mailed an article of the clothes I was wearing as souvenir ( If that is where the love is, manky and moldy back atcha boys!!)

I am caught between the greatest winding-down and winding-up imaginable, in fact it might be a little beyond imagination. Like stepping through a door my circumnavigation is over, but like a man just released from prison I am re-entering society without home, clothes, transport, job, even insurance or normal bills, as an unencumbered homeless person trying to create the mainstream reality of middle class for myself. It’s like I stand naked and naïve in entering my own culture.

I bought shirts, pants, shoes, socks, underwear, a watch and my belts are so old they look deliberately super grunge-retro…I need a couple belts. Everything and I mean EVERY DAM THING is new to me, and there’s a familiarity, which is similar to thinking that I know what to expect in arriving at any foreign country, yet always turns out I am more often wrong in my preconceived notions of how it will be when I get there. I am a foreigner in my own land and wallowing in novelty. I can’t wait to get my i-phone next month.

Love to all,

ben

PS: Sent to Mom
PSS: Phylosophical Psychobable on reentry to follow