"My island, I searched far and wide, until I realized that my island is my boat "(G. Janichon)
past three years, where I had the chance to live aboard my boat, to alternate ports and anchorages, wintering and cruises, I have often thought about this sentence especially in recent times, before stopping for reasons beyond my control ...
Some get their island to the other side of the world, whereas permanent life boat is already a world in itself, which is comparable to nothing else. If they can add to the joys earned from a great trip, no doubt they will be thrilled.
The world nomads water can not be understood by the very people who constitute it. A world of joys and pleasures of daily discoveries, not just a collection of postcards, but the rich and varied human encounters it brings. We are all so connected by the same passion, and above all we share the same lifestyle and probably the main thing.
Oh! of course everything is not always rosy, there is the price for this kind of freedom: the galleys various bullshit the engine, the nights almost white, and sometimes even small prayers that "it takes", or that it does "not more annoyed" But when
it stops when you must sit the bag down, find ways of life that we had become strangers, worries that we had no idea, strange hectic world around us, well then, that does it hurt! It is an amputation without anesthesia. A void, a craving ... Yes, the journey to the sea, life boat, is a drug, a hard drug.
For my part, I expect that when I can start to find the underwater world. I do not know if it is that of happiness, but that suits me better.
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