That's Not Our Trip

We've been back on Galactic for a week now, but I could swear it's been a month - the time has been that full.  We continue plugging away at jobs.  Last night we were both up until three or so - me wiring the new autopilot, Alisa making fixes to the sail cover.

We continue to be distracted from our preparations by non-boat concerns.  There are the ever-present kiddos, of course, and my science work continues to require attention.  And there is the book re-write - with the deadline smack on our target day for leaving San Francisco, it is perhaps the most inconveniently-timed re-write in history.

Not surprisingly, it all gets a little overwhelming at times - the science work and re-write require real concentration, and the number of details to master in a new boat is staggering.  Add in the responsibility to make sure that everything is as safe as possible for the boys, plus the looming seasonal deadline, and, well, you can see why we were up till three last night.

In the long term, we agree that we will do everything we can to avoid getting this over-committed again.  And in the short term, we're scaling back our expectations for the upcoming trip.  Other sailors write things about maximizing their use of the cyclone-free season to have as much time as possible to explore the delights of the South Pacific, they trade tips for getting extended visas for French Polynesia and cruising permits for the Galápagos.  Alisa and I agree that's not our trip - our crossing will be a delivery as much as it is a cruise.  Our ideas of doing some biology work in the Tuamotus and getting to the out-of-the-way Australs are being replaced by visions of sitting on the hook for weeks at a time at some of the larger, on-the-beaten-path islands where I can work on the boat and work on my other commitments. And then, inshallah, we'll be in Australia in seven months or so, with the boat an old friend, and we can find ourselves a somewhat slower pace.

Doesn't sound too bad!