To fly, or to go boating?

I’ve said it before: “I don’t like boats.” They rock, and they roll, and most dangerously of all, they hold the potential for something to go horribly wrong and create a watery demise.

I have seen a lot of boats lately- most recently last weekend on my trip north to Bar Harbor, Maine. While I was there I took over seven hundred pictures of boats alone, and I’ll admit to liking half of those pictures. Some of that is attributed to not just the boats, but my interaction with boat people. They seem to like the mystery of the water and the great unknown that lies outside the harbor.

After that weekend, I took the image pictured above while exploring Stratford Connecticut a few days later, disguising myself as being at work.

All of this makes me worry. I’m a man of the road who, when he has the chance, likes to spend his weekends in the air. I barely have time to go upstairs and catch the whimsical things that being off the ground has to offer; what a travesty it would be to catch the H20 bug and have to find a way to divide my time between two separate loves. How can this be?

It’s quite a mess I must assume. Some men like blondes, other gentlemen much prefer redheads. Guys like me adore them all. There’s nothing wrong with having multiple hobbies and loves, as long as it doesn’t involve various women, or so my Wife tells me. So far, I feel no need to test her words of wisdom.

If given the chance, and I could boat, or I could fly, I’d like to choose both. Something lends the feeling that this scenario wouldn’t work out so well. I would be skimming along the shimmering water on a pretty day and look up; there I would see a little airplane adventuring across the sky, and I’d be sad. On another day, I’d be buzzing south a few hundred feet over an unnamed beach in my little red bi-plane. From the sanctity of the air, I would see a tiny skiff, hopping, skipping, and jumping across the playful waves and again: I would find myself in sorrow.

What can be done? For now, it’s more convenient for me to fly. Airplanes are the ship I know, and the ocean of air is that I am the most comfortable playing within. One can only blame the magic of life for attracting to me to two great pastimes of beauty.

Sometimes I wonder if I could split the difference- Maybe I should dream of owning a seaplane on a lazy lake. All I would need is one cabin by the lake to sleep. The wings and the liquid below my pontoons would take care of all my hopes and desires.

As an aviator, that sounds good. As a human, I can’t help but think that’s like asking my Wife to dye her hair so I can see if she feels like someone else. To me, Airplanes are airplanes, and boats are boats. That said, I’d still be open to cheating with these blended machines of air and water, just once. Please don’t tell anyone is all I ask.

As it stands, I have a growing affection for boats, only because I can see their beauty through the lens of my camera. That in turn, has led me to having a greater understanding to the allure of the sea, thanks to my interaction with the people who captain these ships. I hesitate to admit it, one day I might join their ranks.

For now, as the song goes, “Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily- Life Is But a Dream.”