I have realized that I would make a terrible journalist. On-the-spot reporting and real-time updates are not my strong suits. It takes a while — sometimes a good, long while — to be able to process things in a way that makes sense. I need perspective to avoid crazy rants or meaningless drivel. I say this as a preface to my apology, dear readers, for keeping you in the dark for so long.
We did/learned/saw/experienced so much this summer but I’ve needed perspective to be able to put it together with coherency. I’m not sure how successful I was.
Here is the short version of our story: we left New York in April, got a lot of (expensive) boat work done in Massachusetts, sailed North in July, ran out of money, and limped our way back to New York at the end of September where I am working at a freelance job and Peter is working on the boat.
Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? We did have a fantastic amount of fun along the way. We got to be lazy and relaxed: making sure to sleep in on Monday mornings, not sticking to a schedule, going were we wanted to go, seeing amazing places, living off the land, looking at the stars every night…
We also had not-fun times: hiking nine miles to buy cat litter because we couldn’t afford a taxi, running out of booze early on in our adventures, running out of food, being down to our last few dollars, spending our last few dollars on cat food instead of people food…
But we did it. We sailed and we survived. We experienced both triumph and defeat. We learned a lot and realized we are idiots. We received help without asking and learned to ask for help when we truly needed it. We were bouyed by the value of true friendship and are grateful for the many kindnesses that were shown to us. We tried to find the humor in the challenges and didn’t let each other fall into despair during the dark times. We became better sailors, a better team, and better partners. We now know so much more about ourselves, about our needs, about what’s important to us as individuals and as a couple. We wouldn’t trade the experiences we had for anything but we certainly wouldn’t willingly recreate them.
For the past week we have been living in the lap of luxury (which is to say that we have wifi, electricity, water to fill our tanks just a few feet away, and a dock that we can just step on to directly from the boat). Perspective.
We will continue to put videos on YouTube. There was a tremendous amount that happened during this trip and it’s just too much to write about all of it. Videos will come more quickly now. (Our luxuries include electricity so I can plug in the computer instead of charging it with the engine/solar panels and only being able to work until the battery is dead. We also have the luxury of wifi so a video can be uploaded in a few minutes instead of trying to find wifi for free and waiting for 6 hours for the file to upload.)
Our initial plan was to leave New York around now, heading South to warm climates, sandy beaches, and drinks with little straw hats. However, it’s cold, the sailing is rough, and we still can’t afford to buy drinks — whether hatless or not. We abandoned the Leave In November plan for the It’s Nice To Be Warm And Comfortable plan. We have paid for this slip in our old Marina until mid-April – it was more economical to do that than to pay by the month.
So what’s next? We want to continue our adventures but really like being able to go to the grocery store if we run out of butter. Right now the trauma is too recent to laugh off and our memories of discomfort have not been softened by the passage of time. Who knows what will happen in five months. Perhaps our third New York winter will drive us into the arms of the Caribbean. Perhaps I will become a journalist.
Sailing Devilfish 