Entries by Bo Bryan

Superstitious

No amount of precaution and planning would keep Betsy comfortable for long in open water.  She had no experience of time in a seaway  All she had seen in the movies, or frozen on film, retouched for magazines and postcards, all of it intimated romance and natural glory, the majesty of the sea.  Only beautiful […]

Belly Up

Betsy was all for heading to the Caribbean or Central America, to the Rio Dolce, the “sweet river”, in Guatemala.   That was where I imagined delivering the baby, anchored up  surrounded by jungle, where a medical helicopter probably couldn’t land, even if there was one to call.  But that was part of the attraction.  […]

Tuning the Rig

We had not had sex since living together in the mountains.  Back then, we had had a lot of it for fun, not trying to get pregnant.  The fun had played out, the romance ended another failed experiment in bliss.  Now we were married with no ambition to be in love, only to procreate. Betsy […]

Name Change

We were hungover leaving the yacht broker’s house.  I asked Betsy to drive and opened the car door, letting her in.  Closing the door, I walked around to the passenger side, climbed in, and asked her to marry me in so many words,  “Do you still want to do this whole thing?  Have children and […]

Expiration Date

At a dinner party with the yacht broker who had sold me the boat, Betsy and I sat across the table from Mark, a good looking younger man, one of the craftsmen employed by the broker to outfit the yachts he sold.  Mark was highly competent, my favorite among the skilled hands helping me to […]

Glamour of Thieves

I located a boat in Texas.  Practically a new vessel, with less than fifty hours on the engine, sitting on an inland lake near Austin.  The floorboards weren’t even scratched.  She was priced to sell; the catch was, she was bare bones, not equipped for oceangoing: no electronic navigation, no long-distance radio-telephone, no self-steering gear, […]

Synchronized

In North Carolina, we looked for a house up and down the Outer Banks, and all along the western shore of Pamlico Sound, no luck.  But a boat like the one I was looking for happened to be anchored in the yacht harbor at Beaufort, near Morehead City.  A Hans Christian 38T, forty-six feet overall, she […]

Beyond Romance

I called Betsy from a phone booth in Edenton, North Carolina, on the Albemarle Sound, where descendants of Blackbeard the Pirate were members of the Chamber of Commerce.  I was on the road, I told her, looking for a house to raise kids in and a sailboat to travel with; I went on with the […]

Hurrying to Elsewhere

Leaving church, I drove out to the Oconaluftee River, found a rock to sit on, and stared at the moving water.  I prayed and waited for some echo, some after-shock to come, related to the watery blue entity I had seen flying through the sanctuary of the Baptist church.  What could that have been?  No […]