May 5th marks 4 years we've been with Minerva. Sometimes it feels like a hundred years ago that we were responsible homeowning adults commuting to work every day. Sometimes it feels like yesterday.
We've met many amazing people on the water. Some we run into again and again in our travels, some don't stay on the water for long. Not everyone is cut out for this lifestyle. One thing I've noticed - those that stick with it for the long term have perfected the art of bending without breaking. If you are the kind of person that must control your environment, you will either learn that this is not the life for you or you will learn to surrender some control and work within the limitations of the day.
The volcano at St. Eustatius holds court over the anchorage |
Our friends Janet and Joe in Oriental NC introduced us to the concept of the No Plan Plan at a time we were coming completely undone by our first year of Minerva maintenance failures. I still struggle with the No Plan Plan. I am a control freak. I make plans and expect to stick to them.
But sailing doesn't work that way. The wind won't cooperate. The parts are unobtainable. The professional you hired doesn't show up on time and he won't return your phone calls. The skies won't cooperate - it will surely dump rain the day you booked the welding work. Medical situations pop up at the most inconvenient moments. Boat insurance policies place seemingly arbitrary limitations on your plans. Bureaucracy and politics in general are often problematic. The mail won't work where you are, or it's prohibitively expensive. You can't get the groceries you want. You can't find the food you want. The internet and phone connection is sometimes a challenge. You can't always use all the fresh water you wish. You can't always get to an airport, a rental car, sometimes even getting to shore is impossible. The basic freaking high-count thread cotton sheets that you want don't exist in any of the islands you've approached in the last 6 months.
Cannon at Brimstone Hill Fortress in St Kitts |
You can't always have the access to the friends and the family that you need. Your partner can irritate you - even the sound of his breathing can drive you completely mad if you let it.
The sailors that can let these things go, laugh anyways and still find joy wherever possible have become the true masters of flexibility.
Can't talk to your best friend? Wave the bag of ice you just bought at the stranger you just met on the dock and invite him over for a sundowner. You can't consume all that ice before it melts anyways so share the wealth. He came here to check in, he looks tired and his boat probably doesn't have an ice maker either, he also probably just came in from a long sail. Make him and his crew a cocktail. Listen to their sailing stories. It might be not the best friend whose company you are missing, but it's a new friend and those can be fun, too.
The Grand Parade at Carnival St Maarten |
Can't go where you want? Go where the wind takes you. Or stay where you are. Or fire up the engine and bash into it. Whatever plans you concocted yesterday don't have to be written in stone, you can change your mind to follow today's weather whims. A long-time sailor friend told us "when it's time to go, I just go, and I can be really quite rude about it". This conversation happened just a couple of days before he failed to show up for the dinner we cooked for him in Annapolis, and we found out he had caught a weather window to Maine only after he has halfway there.
Mural facing Marigot Bay, on the French Side of St. Martin |
Lance had some foot medical drama to deal with, best done in California by the specialists that already know him. Somebody needed to stay with the dog and the boat. So we sailed Minerva back to St. Maarten where friends and resources are plentiful, access to boat supplies is easy and the technicians are top-notch. I worked through some big projects we were going to hire done in Trinidad during hurricane season anyways. Lance is getting back on two feet, Minerva gets the work done a little earlier than planned and we (hopefully) play more/work less this hurricane season. It's not the lovely slow tour of the Caribbean we had intended for the season, but that's OK. I'm learning to do what I can where I am with what I can control, and to be content with that.
Chloe loves to frolic on the beach |
We had the most amazing sail back from St. Kitts to St. Maarten, and we both hold that memory close until we can share the next perfect sailing day. It's coming, surely, and its promise drives me to have Minerva ready to travel before he returns. That's the other side of this coin. Good preparations often make for smooth sailing, and now and then the most perfect day is gifted to the persistent sailor. There are days when the wind is just perfect, the waves are minimal, the breeze is cool and the clouds or stars mirror the water so you and your vessel seem to float together in a magic bubble. Sometimes there are dolphins. Sometimes there are beautiful landscapes to sail past. Sometimes the water explodes with bioluminescence, trailing fireworks behind the boat's wake. Those days keep us going.
Shiny new standing rigging - done! |