Come and Gone
At anchor
Our 46-foot sailboat, Dolce Vento, was sold last week, finally after 18 months on the market. The sale marked the end of my journey– a long awaited exploit to captain a sailboat — navigating the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW), hopping along Atlantic coast cities, crossing the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas’ Abacos Islands from Florida and returning home. No matter how much I read about the challenges we might encounter, I didn’t believe it until I lived it.
I was addicted to the dream – the dreamy notion of a picture perfect cruising adventure – cloudless sunny days, warm breezes, gliding through the water using sails not engines, plying salty waters by day and night, living the simple life aboard, exploring all kinds of sights, sounds, flora and fauna, and luxuriating in warm southern breezes.
When I sailed the Chesapeake during my working years, sailing meant getting away from the routine and rut of daily living, having time to relax, enjoying air filled sails with sun filled weekend and vacation skies. Sailing recharged my physical and mental energy. Little did I know that Bay sailing did not translate into cruising sailing. Not by a long shot.
After a year of cruising, I had not only sated my sailing passion (it was the first item on my retirement bucket list), but was also cured of its addiction. I learned that the true definition of cruising means enjoying living in a constant state of repair and maintenance, sprinkled with moments of pure fear and, on occasion, pure joy and exhilaration. Cruising was filled with routines and ruts, with little time for relaxation as we were always moving along a course and plotting the next leg of our journey.
Navigation needed to be charted and logged into the GPS after accounting for monstrous tidal and gulf stream flows and weather and emergency contingencies. There were numerous times when we had to wait for a fog to lift, a storm to blow through, parts for repairs to be delivered, fuel lines to be cleaned, engine oil to be changed, water and fuel tanks to be refilled, while not forgetting, because it was the busy season, to make next week’s or next month’s marina reservations. We also had to plan meals, restock groceries, and wash laundry. Cruising was a sustained, 24 x 7 physically and mentally demanding job, requiring patience and perseverance that, quite frankly, were in the long term, beyond my capabilities. By the time we returned, I was bone tired, stripped of my sailing passion. I was done.
With much rest and bit of distance, I feel good about what we achieved. I proved to myself that I’m a decent captain, able to manage the risk of storms, broken equipment, and unknown waters. I had two crew – my husband and a taller, stronger woman, 20 years younger than myself, who was both a marine mechanic and a willing sailor. Together, the three of us made it happen. What I learned was that at 70+, my ability to endure failed to deliver what I needed to continue.
October 6, 2015 was the happiest day of my life. We took possession of Dolce Vento, planned and prepared, came aboard full time in June 2017, then left the dock in October 2017. We returned in June 2018. December 6, 2019 is the second happiest day of my life. It's the say we sold the boat. It’s burden lifted.
What they say about sailors is true. We each have our own vision of what “great” sailing should be. Our cruising was not what I had anticipated, but it was a never to be repeated adventure that I will never regret. I am a recovering sailor, a person who will never forget, but once again has enthusiasm for land based life, happily taking one day at a time.