The seasons

One of my most profound memories about Hawaii is the absolute lack of seasons the year we were there. I mean, I (James) understand that “season” might mean a different thing in the middle of the Pacific flow at 18 degrees north, and I might not have been particularly attuned to Hawaiian seasonal change given the fact that I was all involved in survival of the wage-slave fittest the entire time I was there. It was 80 degrees Fahrenheit every day we were there and seventy-something every night. I stopped giving a shit about the weather after a while which (I know) is a little weird for a sailor. It’s not like that here on the other side of Earth in the Atlantic flow. We have some serious season-age here in the Azores for sure! Change is dramatic and obvious on every level. The ocean rolls in with a vengeance some days like it was actually pissed off at you. The banshees in the marina cry and mourn with the modulation of the cyclonic winds spinning off into the Atlantic flow like a pair of googly-eyes. The island of Terceira is an incredible environment with obvious active change going on around us constantly. It’s tiny and grand at the same time. It’s completely exposed to the angry winds from the northeast and the protection we get from the southwest is restricted to the shadow cast by a volcano (Pico) about 96km from us. That huge mountain shatters the winds that come over the Atlantic so by the time they get to us here in Praia da Vitoria they’re kicked up with a kind of confused fury. And then there’s the fact that this is an active volcanic zone. Yeah, that means earthquakes sometimes like the 5.6 quake we got the[…]

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