What the hell is MY identity?!

It was skiing, snow, construction, my truck, and camping. Maybe that’s why I loved her. She talked about camping. But then I sold my truck and tortured myself for six years by not pursuing what I love, and instead pushing sailing. Why sailing? It’s good. But it isn’t my true passion. My true passion is an alcohol burner and a self cleaning pump water filter, next to a lake, perhaps with a. Fishing pole.

Two nights ago I had had enough torture. I made the rounds of all the epic Santa Cruz stores, collecting prices and information. Went to work, got my laptop, went home and sat on my bed and did some good old fashioned internet research.

Hours later I had a pad, a sleeping bag, a battery powered Xmas light strong, a stove, a used mini DSLR, and a Tupperware of two hard boiled eggs, a tomatoe, an apple, and an orange.

An hour later I was at 2600 feet, the highest peak near Santa Cruz, getting my car level. It was epic.

In the middle of the night, I woke up ecstatic. This weird, electrical feeling was penetrating me. The sound of the rain that had started hours ago had changed. And the 5 year old inside of me knew Exactly what that sound was.

Sailing was more of just an adrenaline fix. How far can I push the boat and crew?

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