Mass Confusion, Solar Delusions, and Talking to Myself—A Captain’s Guide to Sanity

So, I assumed I could find Mass on TV—simple enough, right? A quick search for Mass and boom, there it was. But let me tell you, it’s just not the same. It reminded me of when I was trying to convince my leadership that regional and national meetings need to be in person. You can’t replace that face-to-face connection with a Zoom call, just like you can’t replace the incense, the peaceful atmosphere, or the shuffle of pages in a missalette by watching a livestream.

That said, if I’m going to keep the promise I made—much like the one my grandfather once made—I need to make this work while cruising. Oh, and about his promise… He vowed to say a rosary every night if God let him live long enough to see all his grandkids born. Bold move for a chain-smoker who had a habit of falling off scaffolding (he was a plasterer, not just accident-prone). Somehow, despite multiple hospital visits, he stuck around long enough to see all seven of us arrive. I think my parents’ dedication to repopulating the Earth kept him going.

So, while I didn’t get to sip my coffee at Just Desserts today, I can at least reflect on the readings while going for a “dock-walk” —how they challenge me to engage in self-reflection, recognize and correct my shortcomings, and strive to live with integrity. Supposedly, this leads to a more peaceful life and a positive impact on those around me. We’ll see.

Upgrade Update: The last two days have been stressful. I currently have 1,200 watts of solar recharging my batteries. Some Antares owners have as much as 3,000 watts, which I was trying to do. The issue? To get that much, you basically have to cover the entire back deck, meaning you can’t see the mainsail while sailing. And for me, being able to see the main from my back trundle seats is non-negotiable.

I have an in-mast furler that needs two systems to roll in and out, and if one of them decides to throw a tantrum, I need eyes on it. So, cue the major calculations—I’m figuring out what solar panel sizes will fit and how I want them configured on the rear arch. My plan: cover the whole back deck except for a gap in the middle so I can still see the sail. To do this, I had to mix it up—two 450-watt panels and two 550-watt panels. That means with the two 300 watt panels in the cockpit roof I’ll end up with 2,600 watts, instead of the 2,800 I’d have by doing four 550-watt panels, but it’s still a win considering the standard boat setup has only 1,800 watts.

A bonus from all this? Under the solar panels, I’ll be able to attach a canvas roof, which I can zip and unzip much more easily than the setup I have now. Perfect for shielding guests (and Kona the dink) from the rain.

First Mate Update: Not much happening there. She was sick the past few days but I assume I’m doing “well” (and yes, I put that in quotes for a reason). I used to say “good” all the time—real redneck-style for fun—until it became a habit so ingrained that I actually started thinking it was correct. That was until “Old Lisa’s” oldest daughter (who traveled with me to the TLC/Laser Vision Eye LASIX installs across the country between her college and grad school) constantly corrected me. Now, every time I say “doing well,” I think of her. Funny how people leave these little marks on us without realizing it.

As for Ohana Lisa, she’s itching to crew. It’s wild how connected I’ve become in the sailing world over the past four years. Between the Antares owners and my own experiences, I’ve really integrated into this whole nautical community. For fun, I suggested to her we join a group heading to Massachusetts in July, but she’s set on staying in Maryland this spring and summer so she can crew. No problem—I put my problem-solving skills to work and got her set up with Chronic Sailing, the company I captain for. Now, she just owes me a drink for every charter she lands.

And that’s it for this week’s reflection—aka me talking to myself in lieu of having a first mate to chat with. But hey, at least I keep myself entertained. Next time, I’ll be telling myself all about the upgrade process, which—shockingly—looks like it might only take two weeks instead of the three I was hoping for (and definitely not the four weeks I had mentally prepared myself for). Let’s see if this turns out to be one of those rare boat projects that actually finish ahead of schedule… or if I just jinxed it by saying that out loud.