July, late afternoon, Wareham MA.
It’s summer vacation, and the Executive Officer and I do what we always do this time of year: pack up a bunch of stuff, truck it down to our dinghy, and head out on the water for an extended boat trip.

The XO and a bunch of stuff.

Ashore on Swifts Neck, our hardworking dinghy Salty ll is loaded to capacity, its water-line much higher, but not dangerously so. I point the bow towards our cabin cruiser Ginger Lee and push off, savoring the exact moment when foot leaves land. We are now living by a different set of rules. Ironically, for boats, it’s called The Rules of the Road.

Loaded up.

Salty’s old Honda 9.9 horsepower four-stroke engine fires right up and motors us slowly along, fine bow slicing through rippling waters until it finds Ginger Lee’s large teak swim platform. We have work to do, unloading and stowing all the stuff, but the XO and I make a good team; we’ve done this many times.
Soon everything is put away and we settle down on the aft-deck with cold adult beverages.
The plan is as follows:
Tonight: drinks and Red Sox radio while safely tied to our mooring.
Tomorrow: leave Wareham at the crack of dawn.
Destination: East.
Objective: fun, relaxation, adventure.

The crack of dawn.

Early morning, Swifts Neck, Wareham, MA.
Odd, but I have never needed an alarm clock. Somehow, I don’t know why, I just get up in time, every single time without fail. The sun, boasting the same peculiarity, rises over Tempest Knob and speaks to me as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. “Are you ready dude?”
“Oh yeah,” I answer simply and respectfully, not knowing if it’s proper to “dude” the sun.
Maybe it’s the strong percolated coffee that’s making my heart race; I am excited. Who knows what will happen? I don’t even know for certain where we are going! We’ll figure it out at sea, based on the tides, the currents, and our fancy. Meanwhile, I revel in my good fortune; I have a boat that can cruise indefinitely, and a wife who loves that boat as much as I do.

Dropping the mooring at dawn.