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Free spirited-eco-gypsy-nomad-worldcitizen, hugger of trees and lover of earthly domains, mountains, oceans, steppes, deserts and forestlands, River rat, and costal sailing bum. Building this "damn' lovely boat is something I won't get away with not doing, arrrgh! Hahahahahahha, i'm so fortunate and thankful for all the opportunities that have so far come my way, people I have met, friends who have revealed themselves to me, righteous livelyhood, places I have lived in, my parents despite their apparent shortcomings, sometimes it feels like somehow I must have been mixed up with another baby at the hospital, but then this must be right and these are the lessons I still need to embrace.
Currently living in my 37 and a half foot Bluebird International Veggie-Oil Bus-stead on a beautifullly sunny meadow 5 Min from "my" beach on magical off-grid Lasqueti Island, BC V0R 2J0, Canada. One of the most amazing places I have ever been fortunate to discover. A thank you to Allen Farrell, boatbuilder and beautiful soul, who unknowingly and unintentionally led me to come here. In 1996 living on Svalbard in Solna/Stockholm, 45 foot schooner built in Petrozavodsk/Russia, my friend Jon, owner of said boat, came with this wooden boat magazine from 1985. "Here, look at this article, this is your kind of boat and your kind of guy, he built this beautiful 42 foot chinese junk from beachcombed wood, using only handtools, and to top it off, "China Cloud" does not have a motor, and is solely propelled by wind or in the absence of by the use of a long sculling oar, called yuloh......" I impatiently tried to get my hands on the magazine, and that was that. The fascination never left, and 4 years later I went on this journey within journeys to satisfy my undying curiosity about this amazing individual. Somehow I managed to find out where he lived - thanx Internet! - wrote to him a few times quizzing him about how he built his boat and what kinds of wood he used and even received detailed answers. So when I finally arrived in Canada via the US, where I had attended a hands on healing workshop down in the desert city of Phoenix, what a place, boy, ;ots of cool people hidden there too, anyway, so I bought a huge gasguzzling beast of a 70's stationwagon at an evening auction and drove it up to Canada in the winter. Crazieeeee, from nice warm weather into the fog and rain of the pacific northwest, refused entry at the border, because I didn't want to play the game, of taking a bunch of cash out of my bank account, just to satisfy the professional needs of these border guards. Games! Well, it didn't stop me free spirited human being. I made it. After all, none of these imperialist landgrabbing, clearcutting, stripmining, warmongering terrorist nations have been officially recognized by ME, ME, ME, so their borders, while visible on paper, are just illusions that most humans tend to adhere to, but enough is enough, we have to live our lives as best as we can, and when hiking in the mountains we dodge the falling rocks when nescessary, sailing the wide oceans, we sway with the waves, and so when the weather turns foul we just get into the raingear and keep on going, what else is there to do?
So finally in February 01 I take the foot passenger ferry out here to Lasqueti(there is no car ferry), leaving a world of megahighways and stripmalls, condos and parkinglots, kind of the coming home kind of feeling, no paved roads, I camp out somewhere, and the next morning after breakfast walk the short distance down the road past the Postoffice and artcenter, to this magical little mudbay, that falls dry twice a day at low tide, and there in the midst of it, tetering on its bilge keels in the mud, a dinghy aside in the green water, I finally behold of China Cloud. It's sunny and warm, it's a day with significance, a day full of Love and style, Everything on my path nods approval, I am where I am supposed to be, no doubt.
I walk the little trail down to the high tideline, place my shoes on a rock in the sun and make squishing sounds in the mud until I reach China Cloud's still afloat tender. Step into it, and thus reach the boat, knock on its painted black sides, sending a hello to where woodsmoke rose and wafted about in the morningsun under the furled sails from what appeared to be the main cabin. Good, I thought, so he must be home! Then I heard sounds and clanking and a door swung open and a white haired and bearded man appeared with a curious-as-to-who-might-be-there-face.
I introduced myself, and the day after this was spent on this most wonderful of boats, that met my expectations in every possible way. In the afternoon after exchanging lots of stories with this gifted and incredible 89 year old man, he hoisted all the sails and the anchors and off we went for a little cruise for a change of scenery, tacking out the big boat under full sail on 3 masts, with Allan doing all the work and Me just looking on in awe and exitement.
Well, the year after Alllen passed away 2 months short of 90, hugely missed on the island, there where about 200 souls on his wake which would have been his 90th birthday, setting adrift miniature boats of all makes with his ashes into the mudbay henceforth also known as China Cloud Bay. The marks the bilge keels left in the mud twice a day in different directions took some months to wash out and over, after the new owner had picked her up and sailed her away.
And another four years later I finally managed to move myself out here, I still wonder what took me so long, some more adventures in between Alaska and Mexico and northern to southern Europe manifesting ,.......... more latah.....
Love and Light
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