2 min read

Standing on the shore, gazing at the sea

Standing on the shore, gazing at the sea
Blue Clipper anchored at the Isle of Rùm, waiting for my return, 2022.

I don't think my plans for 2026 will bring a direct opportunity to "guest crew" a tall ship again. Yet... as the new year approaches, with a burst of memories and fresh resurgence of fantasies and some melancholy about the world and life in general, and a rewatching of Hornblower featuring an approach-by-sea of a ship that I have in fact approached by sea...

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Oh, it's burning in me.

Just... raw yearning, to be in that moment of walking down the dock looking for the ship that has a berth set aside for me, then recognizing the sail plan and hull colors from amongst the other docked ships and knowing that in some way I have found home.

My first glimpse of Golden Vanity with the sky-blue hull, at Fetes Maritimes de Brest 2024. I would live aboard her for the next 10 days.


It's a classic call to adventure in one of its purest form (sails large, horizon larger), but the call to adventure is coming from inside the house, both issued and received by me. Each time I heed this call to adventure I expect to return later to my ordinary life, a Hobbit to the Shire, done with grand goings-on, not an adventurer after all, not at heart.

Each time, this ridiculous yearning returns.

I'm struggling to direct my passions towards positive actions in the here and now, to turn it into fuel rather than folly. And I'll keep trying. My artist friends, you know this trick! But it turns out I am a Fool of a Took, and it's not easy.