My topic for today is the boat as therapy. Over the past several years Charlotte and I have suffered various musculoskeletal aliments. Now I must mention, considering what many of our friends have been through, that none of these problems lead to disability or to surgery. Not that I did not try to lobby on my behalf for a surgical solution but no one would touch me.
Last year we were both apprehensive about cruising even with limitations (no anchoring) and the summer proved a success. This year there was less concern. There were no self-imposed limits. We jumped on and took off after loading what seemed like a hundred boxes of supplies.
Once on Carrie Rose, we realized what the reality of a winter without strenuous exercise meant in real time. Shoulders, knees, lumbar spines refused to move as did our Gluteus Maximus, Rectus Femoris, Brachioradialis, and Triceps. To get in and out of the dinghy was embarrassing. We took to waiting for fellow cruisers to vacate the dock before crawling onto the pier.
The next ill chosen move was to open the rear deck hatch. When this was put in, it was with the expectation that Nordic Tugs would emulate working vessels. It is a thick heavy oval aluminum hatch secured to the deck in such a fashion to withstand massive boarding seas. And thus, difficult to open. Upon Charlotte opening it and my going down below we suffered shoulder and knee injuries.
Now, I am a capable medical practitioner who due to my Chiropractic and Osteopathic training should understand the mechanics of movement and the stresses placed 0n the body, especially aged ones. I would have thought that before attempting the various heavy and awkward demands a boat puts upon its owners, I would have been more circumspect . . . but no! We forged ahead with the task only to realize that shoulders, backs and knees suffered the consequences.
In a seemingly odd manner, as we nursed our pain with Tylenol, Advil and ice packs, I announced that we had to go to Italy once off Carrie Rose. Charlotte was dumbfounded. I will refrain from quoting her directly other than to say she demanded a rational for my pronouncement. My only response was, “What are we waiting for, until we can’t move!”
Clear thinker that she is, she proceeded in the cold and fog of a Maine spring, to make the arrangements while cursing the poor internet connection as we floated a block or so from Northeast Harbor’s WIFI antenna. Two weeks into this and four Rick Steve’s book later the airplane seats and hotel reservations were made. I’d say it was a miracle.
And as the weeks went by we both healed. The dinghy was no longer a barrier. We spent three weeks at anchor in multiple scenic locals. Each day I pinched myself not to get complacent of Maine’s magnificent environment. Not to get inured of the seals, eagles, osprey, porpoises, song birds, jelly fish, etc., etc. To continue to marvel at this coastline made up of solid granite which sprouts vast forests growing on centimeters of soil.
Now back in Chicago with the garden tamed, we are committed to not fall into the decrepitude that a Chicago winter can lead too. It is a bit like an early New Year’s resolution without the inevitability of failure. Italy is a good start; we’ll see what follows next . . . hopefully not physical therapy!
Chicago, IL
