About a year after Erica and I met, we went on a year-long ramble across the country. We left with only $500 and an old beater Oldsmobile (which burned up in Utah) but we managed to find ways to get by that were often serendipitous and also often very humble. So humble that when we landed a job on a fish-processing ship that sailed out of Seattle we could really appreciate the little bed and a hot meal served every six hours.
Some of the people I met on that boat talked about life on land as hectic and stressful, a place of bills, ex-wives, and other fears left unmentioned. I didn't understand at the time, but some years later I was riding my bike along Lake Superior between Marquette and Harvey on one of those dark blue, windy fall days. I was heavy with responsibility and doubt and just being in the presence of the waves seemed to simplify things. I thought of those guys out on the Bering Sea and started singing this song.
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