The Next Day

So, with all the stress and anxiety and craziness, what do I do for the next two days?  Go sailing, of course!

I had talked to Gary some about my feelings, fears, and anxiety, but I think it took seeing it in print on this blog that he finally realized how the "unknown" was affecting everything I did.  We had been doing land trips and really enjoying them; that's usually my way to calm down.  It would be fun for Gary, but always, in the back of his mind, were the myriad projects waiting at the boat.  (It is here that I can say I'm glad he was able to talk the owner down on the selling price of this lovely boat, though all the money we "saved" will end up being spent anyway.  Sailing kitty?  What sailing kitty?)

After a few tears and some hugs, he smiled in that quirky way he has and suggested that we really should get back out on the water.  We had some testing of systems to do anyway, so it would kill two birds with one stone.  I slightly reluctantly agreed and we got settled on the boat in the afternoon after closing up the camper.

We spent the night on board and all of a sudden, the temperament of the family changed.  Even though I was still grumbly and grumpy about Elliott's doings, I looked at him a lot and kept telling myself how much I love him and how much he means to me, no matter what.  At one point, I just pulled him close and told him that I loved him and that I hoped we could just start over, working on how we talk to each other.  He agreed and his father got on board, too.  Thankful for being able to reach out when the time is right and know that with time and work and love, we can change the paradigm.

We motored out of the slip the next day into the Narrows; if you hug the channel just so, a sailboat with our draft can make it through.  We did well and as soon as we were in the clear, we started working with the autopilot.  The autopilot was working when we took delivery of the boat in Florida, but halfway up the ocean route, it decided to call it quits.  I can't imagine how frustrating that must be.  They made it home fine, a much more tired crew than needed, so it was a priority to get that fixed.  After a few mishaps (wrong size, etc.), we finally had a new one in place.

To calibrate the autopilot, you get to sail in circles (three of them, actually), until the program tells you to straighten up for the next step.  Wheeee!  Urp, feeling a little woozy.  When will it stop?  Thankfully, just in time!

Then we sail North and the wheel takes over moving us in a zigzag 13 times.  We had not spotted the boat ahead of us (she had come in from the starboard side), so we got a little nervous that the zigzags wouldn't be completed before we got to her.  But all was good and we went on our way.  Since the wind was very light and we wanted to charge our batteries for refrigeration, we motored up to our destination on the Corsica River.  Anchored in a very nice spot with lots of swing room, we had the idea of taking the dinghy over to the city dock and do some exploring.

As soon as we decided to do just that, I hear splatters of rain on the deck top.  Okay, maybe we'll wait until it stops.  It slowed, but never got very clear.  We stayed in and I made a chicken stew for a nice hot dinner.  Love the chilly night, but even better was bundling up later for sleep.

Always harder going uphill!

The next day, the weather was flaky, so we stayed on board, doing projects and organizing.  We watched the crew team from a private school practice (boy, they will need a lot of practice!), but they had good instructors.

Gary found some other problems with the boat, including some schmutz leaking from the generator, so dejected, he decided we should not stay out another night.  We were also having our usual battery problems, made worse by the strike, we think, so we went decided to make our way back to the marina.
  

I took over the helm as we motored while Gary worked below.  The seas started churning up a bit and the wind got stronger.  A humongous black cloud was coming our way (and we thought the little black cloud was something to worry about), but I hoped we could be far enough away to not bear the brunt of any storm.  Seas got more choppy and the sun went behind the clouds, making it colder, but I held on, making a port turn in the Chester River towards our marina.  Gary decided to set the jib and of course, my stomach got anxious right away.  But he set the autopilot and the boat was doing great, UNTIL, of course, Gary went down below.

Then, Nalani started going to starboard straight for land.  That was very odd.  Maybe she would correct, anytime now, correct now.  Any time now! Okay, she was not going to correct.  GARY!!!!  

He came up quickly from down below and was as confused as I was; a quick check showed that the batteries were so low that they would not support the autopilot. 

We both stayed at the helm, then, Gary wildly enjoying the chop and wind.  "Now this is the way to sail!" he gleefully cried.

At one point, I got us up to 8.7 knots.

It wasn't terrible and was really small in the grand scheme of things, but I've still got the anxiety part to deal with, so I took a deep breath.  I looked around at the beautiful surroundings and watched the glorious sun as the earth rose up for a sweet brief kiss.

I grabbed my camera to make some photos; that always makes me calm as I've got to focus on what I'm doing and not necessarily on what is going on around me.  Granted, in higher seas, I would not be close to a camera, but when I can use it, it helps a lot.

We finally got into the Narrows and made that port swing into our dock area.  Gary came in, turned wide to starboard, and let Nalani's aft end swing around and brought us up nicely to the dock where our friends Jack and Glenn were waiting to help us tie up.

It reminded me of the scene in Ace Ventura where Jim Carrey is in the car and he does that awesome parallel parking job -- "Like a glove!"  Oh yes.

So we were back from an exciting ride, but the look of disappointment in Gary's face later when talking about the new problems almost made me cry.  I guess we're finding out why a lot of sailing families start planning seriously about five years out; you take longer and longer trips to figure out what is good and what does not work.  Our time on the Chesapeake was supposed to do some of that, but the lightning strike set us on our ear in that respect.

So what's next?  I'm not sure.  The big-ticket item, the generator, has some weird stuff leaking out, so who knows?  I'm going to pour a shot of tequila in the water for Neptune, just in case he's paying attention.  We need all the good juju we can get.

And my anxiety?  I've labeled it, talked about it, and know it better now and all I can do is just put one step in front of the other--that's the right compass heading for now.