Beautiful Swimmer

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It was happening again, wonderfully. The Transition. The Moment Of The Crossing Over.  From One World Into Another.

Traversing the spiritual bridge between land and sea is bewitching, is familiar and comfortable yet also new and exciting… so powerful.

Man o Man what a home wrecker is the sea (an incredible blonde with dreamy eyes waiting under the motel sheets in the middle of the day).

I let myself ease in… I gather up the sensations, letting them build as I drift along with them… and then I let go, releasing myself into the moment, letting the moment take over, letting it sooth me, cleanse me.

Somewhere in this, briefly, my mind reached back to Pineapple Hill and our promises…but the water lured me away … until …soon …I was looking ahead instead of looking back.

The sails tightened. Water splashing easily off the hull provided an excellent shade of quiet. I let the sound of it wash over me for the longest time.

But then a voice came over the VHF radio. “Thanks for the wake, asshole!”

What an odd thing to be spoken “from out of the blue” like that, interrupting my reunion with the sea.

I looked around for the voice and for the wake but saw no likely suspects.

It became quiet again. But the mood was gone.

Then came more chatter on the VHF, this time between the dock master and a cargo vessel. At the same time, MadDog and Roger came out of the cabin congratulating one another on finding and fixing a shorted wire from the galley fan to the battery bank, and The Kid joined us in the cockpit (he’d been standing at the bow pulpit –perhaps also feeling himself led away by the sea, led away from his knocked up girlfriend and her eviction from the trailer over stolen beer).

We eavesdropped on the conversation that had intruded our space by way of the VHF. The harbormaster was recommending a Chinese restaurant to the crew of the cargo ship Beautiful Swimmer.

We looked for it on the horizon, hoping to watch it come in, hoping to see the craft with such a lovely name.

But all we saw out there was the dark thin line at the edge of the world.

# # #

— Tim Bryant, Surf Director

 

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Sailboat for Sale

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Not mine but worthy of spreading the word.

1996 Custom Gaff Rigged Sloop
$39000
Isles Of Palms, SC

William Hand design, adapted and built by Mark Bayne (builder of Spirit of South Carolina)
Construction is 1 1/4″ Juniper strip planking with 2 layers of fir veneer, covered with two layers of 10 oz. cloth in epoxy

She is 35′ on deck and 31 LWL. Beam is 10′. She has a full keel and a draft of 54″

Powered by a Yanmar 3GM 30 F (27 hp). Fuel tank holds 55 gallons.

All sails were replaced in 2013 and are like new. Made by Leitz sails.

Bottom was painted June 2017 with two coats of antifouling paint.

This is a very capable offshore cruiser that has made several voyages to the Bahamas, Caribbean, and Central America.

Here’s the link

 

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What Harley Riders Mean

Posted on Posted in Notes & Doodles

A friend/co-worker from long ago sent a message via LinkedIn Green-Acres-150x150asking “Whattaya up to now?”

I tried explaining that, yes, I’m still a marketing consultant but have expanded from general marketing communications to also offer specialized work in strategic brand positioning (targeting, competitive analysis, value propositions and so on). And that I was still into vision and mission statements. And still freelancing in public relations too.

I told him that, yes, I still hear from the ad rep at Aviation Week and still get free passes to the Middle East & North Africa Finance Project forums in Dubai but my world now also includes wild blackberry plants, cows that runaway from home and friendly notes back and on the topic of raising goats.

I even confessed that I’m trying my hand as a novelist: one under contract for publication in 2018, a second being shopped around, a third undergoing revisions and a fourth with just a few chapters finished but going strong.

I said that though The Work is still interesting and still important to me so too were other things –having learned to enjoy my work and my play as one (like peanut butter & jelly).

What I hoped to convey is that I’m still evolving. Still in the game but with more than one game going now. That I’m a bit of a rolling stone.

It feels good. Feels right.

Though it is a bit strange for a city boy sailor to go full blown boonies.

The house is up on stilts like at the beach –but in a pasture. Cows get loose and wander too close to the grape vines. Deer gather at the persimmon tree in broad daylight to eat the fallen fruit. A stray cat (that we’ve been feeding) has taken up residence in the farm jeep (I’m still unable to drive, still recuperating from a car wreck).

But it all makes sense somehow and I finally understand (genuinely and deep within myself) what’s meant when Harley riders say “If I have to explain, you wouldn’t understand.”

Dear Reader, if you don’t get what I’m doing, you probably never will. Not until you try it for yourself. Try something new, zig left when others zag right.

I can’t wait to hear about that, your new adventure in life, the one that changes you forever.

# # #

— Tim Bryant, Surf Director

 

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First Post

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My life hasn’t always been pretty but, lucky for me, has been filled with pretty things:  beaches, tim bryant on the beach20150910_0154boats, girlfriends, wives, children, perfect waves, amazing storms, cocktails with tiny umbrellas in them, words written by thoughtful people with incredible hearts and minds.

I like so many things of the world but find it hard to fit them all in: old movies, small dogs that do tricks and large ones that take up half the pickup truck bench, oysters, water tinkling as it tumbles over smooth stones, grits, big flowers growing wild in the tropics, machine guns, fishing poles, motoring out slowly in morning fog while sweet rolls are baking in the sailboat’s small oven, dolphins that swim along side for awhile… Many other things too. Many. How will I ever find time for them all?

— Tim Bryant, Surf Director

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