Day 33
Often at the end of a course of instruction, there is some sort of test to ensure that the material has left its mark. But for you, my brilliant readers, there will be no pop quiz, final exam or term paper. I trust that your conversation will be peppered with words like sallopet, stan, and faff, that you will know the difference between a jib and a jibe, and that you will never anchor off a lee shore. I need no multiple choice questions to tell me that you will always clip in to a jack line on your night watches, that cabbage will always be a staple in your galley, and that you know all the myths regarding the origins of the Milky Way are true.
What have I learned on this voyage?
Trust my instinct. If my gut is telling me something, listen to it. It may be that I need a power bar, but more likely it will save me from a soaking wet bed, a broken anchor roller, or a freezer full of defrosted chicken.
If something tickles my fancy, laugh. It is good for the abs and my health, and even better for my soul.
The My Little Ponies came to our world through an astral gate made of rainbow cloud. Wait…did I just say that out loud?
Take time to eliminate the noise in my head, then I can hear the symphony of the world.
Time is really, really, really relative. Seriously. Time is not a ruler marked in seconds and minutes and hours. It is a weird and wonderful elastic band that stretches and contracts when I least expect it.
One of my biggest fears about this trip was not being eaten by sharks or broaching or any of the other nameless terrors a Stephen King could dream up. It was that at the end of it I would look back and wonder what had just happened. That I would have squandered this precious elastic band of time. But none of those things happened. Yes, I read light-hearted fantasy novels. Yes, at times I curled up in a ball of some sort of waking dream state, waiting for a respite in the relentless rocking. But more importantly, I put away my planner and my worries about the future and focused on what was right in front of me. The ocean, the sky, the menu, the crew.
My heart is so full of gratitude for all of you, dearest readers, and the words of encouragement that tell me that you are on this journey with us. You have forced me to articulate the chaos inside my head and to sort the ephemera from the truly important. Well, perhaps I articulated some of the faff, but that’s OK too.
Thank-you to all the friends and family who got us out here, and especially to those (Ella…Johnny…Wills…Theo…Tam) who are holding down the fort while we are away.
I have talked a lot about my experience, but there were four (and then five) of us on board. Jeff brought his wisdom and unquenchable positivity: I will always picture him with his sassy grin, debating sail plans and telling tall tales. I am so happy the catering exceeded expectations.
Wilf was only with us for a short time, but he arrived exactly on schedule. Thank you for maneuvering around cancelled flights, battling tuna on the Tasman sea, and pub crawling through Auckland to find your way to Georgie. I mean, Leona.
Georgie brought her energetic intelligence, her culinary creativity, her sailing smarts, and most of all her sense of humor. Thank-you, Mo, for helping me (re)discover my inner goof and galley queen.
Leona, lioness of the waves, sea dragon….you taught me that I am braver than I know.
But most of all, this dream belongs to David. He has always had a far horizon in his eyes: able to be fully present yet never losing the aura of the seeker.
I know the adventure is just beginning.
