12 June – 14 June 2011 Malaise

Monasticism, while closely associated with medieval Catholicism, was a movement that took centuries to develop.  The progenitors of this movement were Christian hermits, notably in Ireland, who would go out into the wilderness and live in caves.  These proto-monks would spend years like this in complete isolation and poverty.  I’m fairly certain, religious convictions aside, they were nuts.

The past three days on Seguin, alone, have proved to me that human company is a good thing.   I did not go crazy, I did not have any long conversations with the gulls, and I continued to practice good hygiene.  What did happen, is a feeling of lethargy so completely settled over me, that I did very little else but read five & one half books.  As if the isolation weren’t enough, the weather was unremittingly cold, windy, and damp, with visibility so poor at times I could not see the bottom of the hill.  Given all of that, and the fact that I had a house instead of a dank cave, clothes instead of rags, and food instead of grubs, I have no idea how those Holy Men did it.  I mean, if things kept going this way much longer, my flesh would not be simply mortified, it would be molding!

I did get out and move around for a couple of hours every day simply to stretch my legs and to inhibit colonies of spores from taking up residence.  I did spend one day resurrecting the mooring gear to be installed in the cove.  Several hours of cutting, untangling, and then working with a propane torch, sledge, and pipe wrench, resulted in four complete sets of mooring shackles, swivels, and buoys.  Now we just have to find the anchors & pennants sitting on the bottom.  About the only other useful thing I did was to salvage a hundred fathoms of line off of the rocks to use for something later on, all neatly coiled in the Boathouse.

During my nightly checks with shore, I found out Amy is enjoying her time at my folk’s house, and Darcy Dog has a broken hip.  I like the little nipper very much, however this will make the second surgery on him in less than two years, and I am unimpressed.  After two mutts that were pound rescues and cost us nothing in medical expenses until the end was near, and one purebred that is costing me as much as good used car, I have decided to never again get a dog with papers.  I don’t even have papers.  Give me a good used mutt any day.  That said, Darcy Dog will make his triumphant return, a little later in the summer.

In conclusion, while the Irish Hermits may have found this mode of living useful, and it may very well have granted them deep insights, what it has granted me is a profound desire for sunlight and human interaction.  I also have come to the realization that everybody, except for Amy (only because she gets three days ashore in warmth & with clean water), would have been happier if Darcy had not broken his hip.  I am looking forward to the boat tomorrow.