Out There Boy Runs Away To Sea. By Kevin Franklin BY THE TIME this hits print, I should be setting sail across the largest ocean in the world--diagonally. A friend asked if I'd help sail his 44-foot Peterson's sailboat back from New Zealand. It took a while for me to make a decision. I had to give up my position as circulation director for The Weekly, receive no income for the month of repairs and three-month voyage. Of course there's also the whole bit about being thousands of miles at sea with sharks, storms and The Nautilus lurking. But what a chance for high adventure! Another friend pointed out I could hardly call myself the Out There Guy if I passed up this trip. I think she's right. I've always had a fascination for maps. To be honest, I'm a little jealous of those ancient mariners and explorers who traveled to places on maps marked with "here be dragons." The captain, Peter Gannon, gave me an address for friends to write to: Nuku Alofa, Tongatapu--Kingdom of Tonga. I'm sure the people of Tonga don't consider themselves on the edge of the Earth. But to me, getting to a place like that, by sailboat, is as close as I'll come to exploring a place marked with a dragon. People have asked me if I'm apprehensive about the trip. I might be after setting sail. But just between you and me, the prospect of staying at home is much scarier, considering the high incidence of car accidents, cancers, and any other post-modern fatalities. People die all the time. But to live an adventure, well that's worth some risk. The riskiest thing in life is to risk wasting it. I had no questions about wanting to go. At the heart of the dilemma was the list of logistical problems that come with leaving your life for a while, especially when you live paycheck to paycheck. The biggest hurdle was inertia. Even with an odd job like mine, a certain routine evolves and it takes an effort to move away from that. I was watching Dr. Andrew Weil the other day on PBS, and he was talking about initiating change in one's life. It's a hard thing to do, but it can save your life, he said. Staying with a bad diet, or relationship or a job that leaves you unsatisfied is often the easiest thing to do. But what you're preserving is nothing compared to losing your health. Or your soul. Once I began working toward leaving, everything fell into place. Several very good friends will care for the dog, my room is subleased, and Visa, well, it's only money. You can't take it with you. When I'm 70 years old, I suspect I'll still be telling stories about this voyage. I won't give a thought to a few hundred dollars lost in interest payments. It's all a matter of perspective. One of my favorite stories was written by an old woman at the end of her life, that time I imagine you look back and measure the true significance of things. Though I read them many years ago, these words remain firmly in mind: If I had my life to live over, I'd dare to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax, I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who lives sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it all over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.--Nadine Stair Good reason to be off for distant shores.

		© 1995-97 Tucson Weekly . Info Booth