The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. And the sailing journey of a lifetime begins with a single mile. From the helm of SeaLight I turned to look back at what we were leaving in our wake, one mile behind us. Our children. Friends. Stuff. Comfort. Routine.
In fact, I did not look back. I never do. As we’ve always told our kids, before leaving on a journey, look into the eyes of the ones you love, say your goodbyes, tell them you love them, then take that step forward into the unknown…and don’t look back. Never look back. That world will be there for you when you return. Lean into the unknown, embrace it, put your whole self into it, and if you feel the urge to look back, fight it. Those you leave behind will miss you, as you will miss them, and that’s okay. They are cheering you on as you push your way into your uncertain future, and they theirs. They want you to succeed.
Saying all that, this time for me was hard. I may not see my son Magnus for eight months. And Stella, four. The past weeks have been amazing, with both the kids at home, enjoying many meals together with us, talking, spending time together. seeing Magnus excelling in his college program and working hard as a server, and watching Stella embark on her exciting gap year, working full time and saving money for her upcoming trips. We are so insanely proud of them both. It was hard to say goodbye and there were tears. But we did it.
SeaLight’s diesel engine was purring like a stroked kitty as we set the autopilot due east, directly into the wind. There would be no zig zag sailing today – we had 140 miles to cover to reach Oswego and the conditions were not great, with 15 knots of sustained wind (which would have been great if is was coming from any direction other than due east) and very choppy water.
Our friend Mike had arrived yesterday, but the wild weather prevented us from leaving so we waited a day. By 3pm we were on the water, settled into the cockpit and sizing up the route. Mike is prone to seasickness so popped a tablet or two of Dramamine, which didn’t take long to knock him out and he slid into his “dead man in a coffin” routine and lay prone and utterly motionless on the port-side cockpit seat for about six hours, sadly missing out on the delicious shepard’s pie Ana heated up for dinner.
Three hours into the trip the winds were over 20 knots and Lake Ontario was giving us a beating. Waves were averaging 3 – 4 feet but several times we plowed the bow of the boat into rogue 6 – 8 footers, flooding the deck with rivers of water as we launched up then smashed down into the next big wave with a sickening crunch on the bow. Every time this happened it felt like the boat was about to break apart, but we knew from previous experience it certainly could take it…but could the crew?
It wasn’t until 9 at night that the winds finally weakened and the waves settled. I went down for a fitful sleep while Ana watched the helm and at 1am we switched. The waning crescent moon provided scant light so we sailed through darkness.
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