my bonnie lies over the ocean

still on the naknek river. honestly, i'm a bit tired of it. i miss the ocean and seeing new towns! last night we were driving out to the mouth of the river, to visit a processing boat and get some water, and i was leaning over the rail on the deck watching the waves zoom by, thinking about all of this. how i live on the ocean now, how much i love the night sky here even though it doesn't get completely dark until crazy late, about what i might name a boat if i had one of my own and wouldn't it be cool to make the lady on my bow the virgin mary? she'd get to wear a revealing blue gown, like all the other ladies on bows of ships, but i'd keep her hair scarf and immaculate heart.

of course, the boats out here don't have pretty ladies plowing through the waves on the bow. most of them are steel and fiberglass machines. when i first got out here i used to spend a lot of time thinking about how sailing has changed; how i know most of the parts of a boat (fore, aft, starboard and port), but never have to worry too much about sails or wind patterns, and how if i had to scamper up rope ladders to be here i'd still be home. (in general, ladders and i are not friends. in my real life, the one i have on land, i don't climb them if i don't have to. here, i jump on and off them without a second thought. heights and i will never be best friends, but i'm getting more and more used to them.) the more i'm out here, though, the more i realize that boats are still as complicated as they ever were, just in different ways. we don't worry about scurvy, and i don't have to hoist anything that massive or think about rope burn, but there are generators and machines and parts that need to be fussed over and cared for. some things are the same, like swabbing the deck and tying a bowline, but in general it seems as though the same amount of knowledge is needed if not more. all this week the only talk has been of our refridgeration system, to the extent that we flew out a specialist to work on it. it's not like we're in a non-fishing town or anything even, the captain just wanted the best and was willing to pay for it. it's that sort of thing that brings home all the complex systems at work on the boat, and how all it takes is one bent something-or-other to bring everything to a standstill.

the past week has been rough. a bunch of stuff we need to in order to work is broken and/or being repaired. everyone is stressed out, and kids pick up on that. the five year old that's living here has been more testy than usual, and while i understand and even sympathize it's draining on me in a very sucky way. i wasn't prepared to be thrust into de-facto nannyhood and going from my bachelorette life to having to be a responsible, scolding grown-up is a transition for me. the boys spend all day in the engine room, emerging at night coated in soot and looking like old-school photos of coal miners, exhausted and ready for sleep, and while i haven't had to grease any shafts or take anything apart i'm just as tired. work is work is work; i could trade any of these complaints for different ones in an office or store or what have you, but there are times when i think about getting on a plane and going home where at least my off-time is mine. more than anything right now i miss my autonomy. i can't go out at night when i feel like it. there is no regular stopping time. you might not be working every single second of every single day you're on the boat, but most of the waking time you are, or have to be ready to. i've been up since 8, it's well past midnight, and tomorrow i start at the same time if not earlier. the only time i really get to myself is in the bathroom, every other second is spent in a room with someone else in it. the money is good, but it isn't just handed to you. we all work hard, and for all my tiredness and bitching, i don't even bear the worst of it. would i do this even if i didn't have a thing for a certain red-haired fisherman? probably not for this long. i would do it, i would enjoy and be excited about the novel experience just as much, but i wouldn't invest this amount of time. maybe. it's hard to say. sometimes i love it here so much i can hardly remember what my life was like before, but sometimes i miss tv and sleeping in late and toilets that flush all the time and i can't figure out how i traded all that in. when i get back on land will i miss the ocean? since leaving home i've only slept on land two nights. one of those nights i was dealing with some serious land-legs and the land felt like it was pitching and swaying anyway, the other night i was pretty drunk and everything spun anyhow, so i don't even felt like those nights counted. will the quiet of not living in a huge engine freak me out? will i go back to 20 minute showers and leaving my dishes in the sink for days? i don't know. it's weird to think about, and i mean that in a great way. i've never lived this much in the moment without worrying so much about the future and what the hell i'm doing with my life. i'm still neurotic, don't get me wrong, i still love better living through chemistry, but i feel differently about it. you could chalk it up to being maybe more at ease with it, but it's not quite that. i don't know what it is. maybe it's just an after-effect of being smitten, or maybe it's the happy i feel standing out on the deck in the morning with a cup of coffee and seeing the other boats. does it even matter? most of the time i don't stop to think about it, but last night i was struck by it all. i've been thinking about it all day.