An Open Letter to Thomas

My chat with my friend Thomas was cut short today because I had to shoo away a large, bareboat catamaran that decided to anchor much too close to Aleta. One of the things I most appreciate about Thomas is his ability to ask seemingly simple questions that are in their essence very thought provoking. We weren’t able to reconnect, at least not yet. So instead I thought an open letter would continue our conversation and perhaps be of interest to others.

December, 27 2018, Virgin Gorda, BVI

Hey Thomas,

Sorry I had to drop off like that, but the swabs in the catamaran parked next to us really were too close for the conditions. I hung up just as a squall blew in, so I was hanging off the forestay shouting at them over our very bright dive light. Rainwater ran down my beard and blew off in the gusts. I must have looked like some manic version of Captain Ahab chasing the white whale.

One thing I’ve learned since moving onto Aleta is that if something isn’t fixed immediately it, a) won’t get done, and b) bad things will happen. That makes me simultaneously grumpy about fixing some frapping boat system and frustrated at not knowing enough about yet another obscure part of the boat.

Yeah, it’s very different from consulting or sailing a desk every day. And, yes, it is still problem solving, but with very different consequences. Nobody in business dies if the marketing report is a week late – at least not in corporate America. Making stupid decisions or not fixing stuff on a sailboat, however, can kill you and/or your crew. Turns out cruising is more than sipping sundowners in exotic locales, it’s a full-time flipping job!

Pundits say it takes 18 months to figure out if you’re going to successfully adapt to full-time cruising. Carol and I set off in mid-December last year with a handshake agreement that we’d give it a year. If you subtract a couple of months for moving houses and driving across the country, we’re only 10 months in. So, we’re right in that grey zone – stay or go, stay or go, stay…. So much depends on the day and how monumentally crabby I get channeling energy out of my fear, stress, and conscious incompetence into something more productive. Carol and I agreed recently that it’s way too soon to quit. To stop now would only feel like failure, like we were taking the lazy option.

You know I really enjoy selling concepts, framing ideas, inspiring others to do things they didn’t think they could. That’s great, but it’s all utterly worthless on a boat, especially in the middle of an ocean. Far better to know how to clean fuel injectors, caulk seams, or distinguish SAE nuts from Metric ones. Practical stuff. The stuff that Artificial Intelligence will never solve because it’s not enough to know the answer, you have to fix the problem in the real world. You want a gig that pays well? Forget databases! Become a diesel mechanic or boat electrician.

But I still miss my pink, fluffy marketing clouds. Designing a strategy for a multi-billion-dollar business is easier than changing an impeller – and in some ways more satisfying. But only because its familiar. That said, I don’t miss helping people make good plans that go nowhere. At least when I fix a leak in the head I get immediate results and can stop mopping the floor.

I’m periodically taking consulting gigs and that keeps my business gears whirring. I can’t say that they’re as well oiled these days, but I try to keep up – it’s also a part of not letting go of the rat race quite yet. Carol’s keeping her hand in by chatting with friends and leaders in the non-profit world occasionally. She sends her best by the way!

What’s fun is we’re meeting some very cool folks out here, our new tribe as you say. A tribe built on the most straightforward of common values like, a spirit of adventure, seamless collaboration, and simply looking out for each other. We’re up to our ankles now. Pretty soon we’ll be up to our ears!

I’m giving up on Cloud-based services as a thing. Utterly useless in the realm of radio waves and asynchronous communications. Perhaps we’ll really be cruisers when we finally set down our iPhones and jack the internet monkey off our backs. Long live dog-eared books in take-one, leave-one marina libraries. There’s always something to read and it doesn’t take a battery to appreciate it.

I can’t wait to hear the rest of your news. Talk soon!

Peace,

MIKE
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