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Three Years Later
As we update this in June 2009, almost
three years to the day that we left the Bahamas, we have so many reflections
on this trip. Some of them are just impossible to put into
words. But we'll give it a try.
MARIA:
For me, this trip was just almost
surreal. Now, I look at our website and think, "Wow! Did we
really do this?" At other times, I can recall so many details -
smells, sounds, the motion of the boat - that it's almost like being
there. I dream I'm on the boat sometimes. I conquered alot of fears
and at the end of the trip had such a sense of fulfillment that one can only
experience after making
the impossible happen. Going after something you really want and
then putting it all in motion and actually doing it is the most amazing
feeling. No one made this trip happen for us, we made it happen ourselves.
So many times, we think inside the box and are too afraid to dream.
And when we do, we squelch it with the thought that "people don't
really do things like that." Well, they do. And we did.
It wasn't the trip/route we had
planned on and expected but it was perfect for our family. There was a
point after arriving in the Bahamas that I was done with the whole
thing. That was it - I was ready to go home. We had had nothing
but mishaps - blowing out our jib in North Carolina; running aground in
Florida and damaging the keel; having to be hauled out just before crossing
over; all the alternator troubles; running aground in the Bahamas; losing
the dinghy motor; bad weather. We discussed this with Steve and Robin
their last night with us when they asked where we were headed next. I
told them that I was ready to head home - I was literally afraid to go to
the Exumas. I wanted to take the boat back to Florida (or have someone
else do it for us - I really didn't care at that point), fly home, and sell
the boat. It wasn't the boat I was having trouble with - it was the
bad luck and the effort that it took to do every little thing. Steve
then gave us a wonderful pep talk. I can still see him sitting in the
cockpit, shaking his head. No, you have to go on, he told us. He
went on about how we just had to give it a try - we just had
to. His reasoning was that we could always turn back but that we had
just arrived in the Bahamas and should not turn around and go back
yet. We really needed to take a break, and then go on. After
they left, we checked into a hotel. Taking a break from the boat
helped me gather perspective again and get our dream back. And I am
eternally grateful to Steve for his pep talk...! It was after then
that things started falling into place. The Exumas were heaven for
us. We learned later that all cruisers start out with a string of bad
luck - it's part of getting used to living on a boat. For us, it was
also part of getting to know our boat since we didn't own her for very long
before starting our journey. Truth be told, the first time I ever took
a sail on Belisana was the day we pulled away from the dock in
Deltaville. (I would not ever advise anyone to do what we did -
leave for a trip on a boat we didn't know well and with only one person
really knowing how to sail.)
One of the most frightening parts of
the trip for me was always the lightning. Period. It may be what
keeps me from taking another trip like that again... Other than that, Brian
and I both confessed - after returning - that our biggest fear was
having something happen to Nolan. Our parents expressed concern for
him, as did a few others, and we always answered with confidence that he
would be fine. But aside from our financial concerns about our trip
budget, our concern for Nolan's safety is another reason we did not continue into the
Caribbean. Although I can truly call myself a sailor now instead
of someone who "knows how to sail", I didn't feel like I had the
necessary experience at the time of our decision. Caribbean sailing is
much different than Bahamian sailing. The islands are much farther
apart and it's much "harder" sailing: the waters are deeper
so there are bigger waves, etc., especially with the tradewinds. I feel
now after the trip back home that I have not just the experience but also
the confidence to face sailing in the Caribbean. But, if we faced a storm or other disaster at sea, I would have
had to keep an eye on
Nolan and take care of him while Brian managed the boat alone. I
really believe more hands are needed when small children are on board.
The most enjoyable times were always
just being together as a family. It is tough living in close quarters
for so long and being isolated from friends/family. But we enjoy each other and those were the best times for me. Shroud Cay is
pure heaven and we had a great time there with our family and again with our
friends when they arrived. And the best part was having Steve and
Robin's family with us. That was some of the most prolonged bad
weather I've ever experienced, yet it was such a great time and some of the
best memories of the whole trip.
And I do miss being so in touch with
nature, just as I knew I would. Most days here at home, I don't even
know the weather forecast and couldn't tell you which direction the wind was
coming from. On the boat, the weather was of ultimate
importance. We could tell you which front was where and when it would
reach us; when the winds were supposed to clock around and at what
speed; and we literally lived outdoors, mostly in our cockpit or on a beach
somewhere.
Sailing at night was something that
terrified me. But I found it very magical - a unique experience that
most folks never have, even the majority of boat owners who are
"day sailors". Beautiful and frightening at the same
time. Since returning, Brian and I have had many conversations
about the moon and nightsailing. All alone in the cockpit,
with darkness all around, the moon became almost a companion. I was
reminded of the song "Cool Change" by Little River Band:
"....It's kind of a special feeling when you're out on the sea alone,
staring at the full moon like a lover." When the clouds would
cover the moon, I'd anxiously wait for it to reappear... Our friend,
Katya, on Amicus,
has a wonderful way of putting thoughts into writing and summed up many of
the same feelings we had. So here is a quote from their website after
returning that describes what it's like "out there":
"The one point I remain nostalgic about right now
is the overnight sailing. There was something about it that struck
so close to my heart and guts, both. Never have I felt so vulnerable
to, and absorbed into, the elements. Mother Earth. On an
overnight sail I would watch the sun go down and darkness descend onto our
tiny rocking splashing world. I would know without a doubt that the
only way we were going to survive the night was in the palm of God's
hand. This carries a terror, of course—but then there I sit, all
night, in the palm of God's hand. How many times in our lives do we
get to experience that? So I miss it, and the awareness of God's
intimate closeness, that is so muted in everyday life." (http://gordonsailing.typepad.com/my_weblog/2007/07/index.html)
Speaking of
songs, we sang alot on the boat. One song that Brian sang over and over to Nolan at nighttime on the
boat (and back on land) was by Styx, "Sailing Away". Now
Nolan knows every word - I think it will always be special to him:
"I'm sailing away, set an
open course for the virgin sea
I've got to be free, free to face the life that's ahead of me
On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard
We'll search for tomorrow on every shore
And I'll try, oh Lord, I'll try to carry on
I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory
Some happy, some sad
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had
We live happily forever, so the story goes
But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold
But we'll try best that we can to carry on
A gathering of angels appeared above my head
They sang to me this song of hope, and this is what they said
They said come sail away, come sail away
Come sail away with me
Come sail away, come sail away
Come sail away with me"
Again, a huge thanks goes out to those
who supported us and our dream from Day One. There's a saying that you
should be careful who you share your dreams with because those who failed to
live theirs will discourage you from following yours (or something along
those lines). We have found that to be so true. So thank you
from the bottom of our hearts to those who supported this dream of ours.
BRIAN:
Many of my feelings
are similar to Maria’s. The
word “surreal” comes to my mind as well.
If it weren’t for this website and the pictures, I might doubt that
it actually happened. Part of
that has to do with “Homecoming syndrome”.
Anyone who’s gone off on some extended adventure or even grad
school (not to say that’s not an adventure!) and then returned knows this
feeling. It’s like time stood
still where you left. You’ve
been off on an incredible journey, experiencing something new, expanding
your world view and when you get back it’s like nothing’s changed.
This happened to me when I went back to work at the client’s office
after the trip. I walked down
the hall (all the same pictures), went to my office (unchanged), said hello
to all the same people (didn’t they notice I was gone?).
I actually had a weird moment of vertigo on the first day back where
I literally wondered if I’d dreamt it all.
So much familiarity and sameness as if I’d been gone a day instead
of almost a year. I’ve often
wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to return and do something
different so as not to fall so easily back into the landlubber life and risk
losing the insights and the personal changes that were gained from such an
adventure. When I voiced this
once, a sage I knew hypothesized that the familiar ground on which I stood
was perhaps a better backdrop to measure and reflect on what really had
changed about myself. I will, of
course, never know since I did not take that path but it did make me feel
better. Nice to have a sage
around when you really need one.
Anyway, I think one
way of figuring out what this all means to me is to examine what I
“loved” and “didn’t love” about the trip. Here are a few
things that were great or things that I miss being back on land…
Meeting people – It was really great to go to a lot of different places
both in the
US
and
Bahamas
and meet people with different perspectives on life, the universe and
everything. The more people you
meet and the more viewpoints that you sample, the more you solidify who you
really are and what you believe in. Of
special note was the opportunity to be a part of the “cruiser
community”. I’m not sure
which is the chicken and which is the egg but the people we found wandering
about in boats were almost universally really great people.
Does cruising attract these people or does the cruising do that to
people? I don’t know but it
crosses all ethnic, geographic and socio-economic boundaries.
We met folks in boats that cost one-tenth what ours cost as well as
people who’s monthly fuel bill was our entire cruising budget for the year
(boat included) – and every
one of them was kind, generous, and quick to smile.
It would be cool to get to the essence of this and bring it ashore
for life on the dirt.
Connection to nature – As Maria mentioned, it was truly wonderful and
humbling experience to be so much closer to nature on a daily basis.
Birds, fish, turtles, dolphins, water, sky, wind, rain, etc.
When you are out in it day after day you really become more connected
to the world and appreciate its beauty as well as its power.
It’s no stretch to understand why the old mariners came to
associate mystical or mythical characteristics with simple things in nature.
It always did feel like a good omen when we were lead into port by
dolphins. I always did feel
better on a night passage when the moon was “watching over us”.
Intellectually, of course I know there are no inherent benefits to
dolphins or the moon being present but I sure felt it.
I felt it in a strong, very visceral way.
In a way that goes WAY back.
Honest Stress – As you may have noticed, it was not all umbrella drinks
and naps on the beach on this trip. Things
did go wrong, weather was bad, there were close calls.
It was stressful but not in the way going to work is stressful.
There was something more “honest” about the stresses aboard ship.
It’s like we were tapped into the real mechanisms that are built
into us to help us survive dangerous situations.
They were not all life and death stresses but they all were real in
terms of the ongoing wellbeing of the boat and crew.
At that time, it was hard to believe that I used to lose sleep
worrying about whether or not I’d ordered the talking points in my
Powerpoint deck to maximize my message.
No asthma, no meds
– some may not know but I have allergic asthma and routinely take meds to
manage it ashore. Somewhere
along on our trip I just started forgetting about the meds and eventually
realized when we got back that I had hardly touched the cache of chemicals
I’d brought on board. I miss
that.
The Coxes – Specifically Steve and Robin and their kids who came to visit
us for two weeks. I’m not sure
how well it came across in these pages but their first week was filled with
“adventure” that I’m sure they could have done without.
After setting sail from Nassau we changed plans to go to a different
island altogether, anchored in a horrible impoverished (and slightly
dangerous) town, lost a motor, had troubles with our main engine, set Steve
adrift in the dingy while anchoring, and endured unprecedented daily frontal
weather systems which brought high wind and rain.
Keep in mind that this was their “big” family vacation for the
year. Through it all, they met
every obstacle, every problem and every dark cloud with aplomb, grace and
high spirits. It was greatly
humbling and I am still in awe.
Stowing the Stuff – With storage at a premium on a sailboat, you really
have to need something to take it along.
And stuff you really, really need (spare engine parts, for example)
take precedence over items that you just think you need.
It was a real eye opener to learn how much of our stuff we can do
without. Really, we have a house
bursting with stuff, as is the American way, and after food and safety our
needs are actually quite minimal. I
am not about to throw off all my worldly possessions like a Buddhist monk
but this trip taught me that we really might be better off without 90% of
all the stuff we keep. I am a
packrat at heart so this was a zeitgeist rocker for me.
People of authority
calling me “captain” or “skipper” – Bridge tenders, marina
managers, big boat captains (i.e. real captains) – I never tired of being
called “captain” or “skipper”. In
fact, I loved it. I’m not sure
why but, for me, it was the best thing EVER.
Here are a few
things that were not so great and that I do not miss….
Safety Anxiety – I
know that I wrote that thing up there about “honest stress” but this is
the down side. I don’t care
what anyone says, the sole responsibility for the safety of the ship and
crew lies with the captain. As
the experienced sailor and lawful owner of the boat, I was legally, morally
and by tradition of the sea, responsible for my vessel and any and all
people on it. It turns out that
this is a huge responsibility given that life at sea presents more
opportunity for jeopardy and it weighed on me heavily.
More heavily than I realized until we were back on land.
On a more personal level, I had recurring nightmares (and daymares)
about Nolan falling overboard and being lost at sea.
This was a horrible anxiety that I’m happy to be rid of.
Checking the Weather
– When you live outside, the weather rules your world.
Every day, the forecast defines (to at least some degree) where you
go, how fast you’ll get there, whether you stay or go, and how pleasant
and safe staying or going is going to be. There
is some good in this (see “closeness to nature” above) but it does mean
you have to know what the weather forecast is for every day.
Every day. And unless you
have sophisticated equipment and expensive services, that means you have to
listen to the radio (SSB and/or VHF). In
the
Bahamas
, the really important regional broadcasts were Chris Parker at 6:30am and
Carolyn of BASRA at 7:00am. Every
day. I do not miss getting up at
the crack of dawn to tune in on the SSB like Radar O’Reilly and try to eke
out a forecast from the static. Every
day.
Storage Chess – As
you may or may not know, the limited space on board a sail boat puts storage
at a premium. And every nook and
cranny is utilized. But all
storage also has to be secure for the safely of the boat, crew and the
stored items. This turns mundane
tasks like making a sandwich into a complex chess match in which items are
moved back and forth, hatches are accessed, and counter space appears and
disappears several times. You
don’t truly appreciate opening a cupboard and grabbing something until
you’ve lived on a boat. Oh and
a fridge that you don’t have to climb in through the top so that you can
execute an archeological dig while hanging upside down?
Forget it.
The Head – The
“head” is the bathroom. As
the primary engineer and mechanic onboard, it was my job to make sure that
the head was always in good working order.
Unfortunately, the heads on sailboard are notoriously and
unnecessarily complicated. For
example, a simplified version of going to the bathroom would be 1) depress
foot pedal lightly to add water to bowl, 2) do yer business, 3) depress foot
pedal fully, 4) pull pump knob for several seconds, 5) return knob to off,
6) release pedal. Whew.
And this doesn’t include checking to see if the pump-out key is in
the right position. Any
deviation from this sequence or improper timing in any one step could result
in blown fuses, broken pumps, or (gulp) a jammed head.
When this occurs, the “head” mechanic must spend his morning,
afternoon, or evening elbow deep in badness.
I will not miss this.
It’s interesting
to note that a recurring theme in this write up, both overtly and not, is
humility. I admired it in others
and had it bestowed on me many, many times.
It’s interesting to me because I though I was going to write, “we
learned that we can do anything we set our minds to.”
That statement is true and there were many incredible
accomplishments, both great and small on this trip.
We have every right to feel quite smug and arrogant about what
we’ve done but the sea just won’t let that happen.
Imbalance must always be resolved in nature.
Period. It’s the way of
things. This voyage served up a
well balanced banquet of confidence-building triumphs and “you’re a
speck of dust” humility and what could be better than that for growing
into a better person?
NOLAN:
I liked it when the water kept
spraying on the boat, and Mommy and Mimi didn't like it and me and Daddy
kept wanting more. I also liked making new friends. I liked
being able to go swimming whenever you want. Every time I went
outside, the sea would be all around us. I thought that was really
nice. I sort of liked when the dinghy got unhooked and we looked back
and the dinghy was like a mile away. I learned never to hide from your
parents or they'll worry crazy over you.
MEG:
Sounds great! When are we
leaving?
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