Day 2: Missing the forest for the trees

Morning has a different hue here. We’re in the thick of the June gloom (malibu’s foggy lover who after a long day of work comes to settle on the town through the night only to leave again with the sun) which shrouds every second of morning with a delightfully dreary tinge of anticipation.

The town will wake up soon. The water will be uncovered soon. Lawnmower blades are echoing through the canyons as the day labor mercenaries engage the front lines of devaluation.. and we will join their efforts.. soon. Yet, it’s not the mansions of Malibu we’re concerned with. Ground breakings and demolitions leapfrog across Malibu’s economic season’s turn with a complete disregard.. contempt even, for the family. That’s what we’re here to build.

Vessels hold, carry. Boats (and boards) swaddle people as they cross our most treacherous sections of globe, water. They give us the opportunity to reach beyond the scope of our natural abilities and experience the forbidden beauty of something that should be impossible. Building them does the same. I remember a moment in the shop last fall when a 6th grade young lady was shaping a mahogany panel for a canoe with a belt sander that must have been twice the size of her arm. The dust collection system was on full blast with the sanders creating a sound bubble where our own heartbeat was the only thing we could hear. Suited up in her protective regalia, this boatwright was in the zone and as a tiny bead of sweat rolled down her barely exposed forehead, she found the line. The fair curve she was looking for (recognizable only by it’s mimicking of nature itself) was discovered by her hands after being created by her mind. She looked up.. and smiled. That was it. This is the sort of communication, fellowship, that we’re building here. A dusty, exhausted connection between fathers, daughters, brothers and mothers that is so profoundly impossible that words abide.

Now, all seriousness aside, we’re having a blast working our butts off.

Thanks for being here with us.

Jesus Castro
Program director of Urban BoatWorks