Sailing
I’ve experienced the sea as smooth as glass and as rough as a roller coaster, so I was cautious as I made my way into the unknown. Having already experienced two gales I didn’t relish getting into another one any time soon, so I checked the weather report with my handheld VFH radio, kept charged by my solar panels. All was good, but I kept my storm sail ready, just in case. The wind was gentle, but I moved along at around six knots, keeping my compass set to 75 degrees southeast. I stopped at every port, rested a few days, sold my earrings, then moved on to the next port, picked up supplies, rested and took off again. I liked those stops, meeting locals and selling my earrings. Sometimes they built large fires on the beach, played their instruments, sang and danced. In the evenings, when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, I pulled out a sheet and my sleeping bag and laid it on the cockpit. Making sure both my anchors, both bow and stern, were secure, I drifted off to sleep under the stars. Sometimes I used the autopilot and radar and continued to sail overnight. I always wore a small inflatable life vest when I was sleeping in the cockpit attaching a tether to my waist. You never know if a rogue wave would be heading your way to give you a rather strong broach while you’re sailing. My radar guaranteed it would sound an alarm if there was anything within 600 feet from my boat. I needed to trust. It didn't happen. I checked the shipping lanes on my charts and took precaution not to go through one while I was sleeping.
I finally learned to navigate by the stars, using a sextant so I used both the stars, my compass and my GPS, constantly checking my location. When I got disoriented from not seeing land, I tended to get nauseated, so using the stars was a great comfort and guide. Many times in the past I was sure my compass was wrong and I was heading in the wrong direction, but I was the one who was wrong, so I vowed to trust my instruments on this trip. I got my true north synced at the harbor patrol before I left San Juan. What else could I do?
I got pretty tired between ports so I would sometimes stay a week or more before starting out again. Sailing in the big blue ocean with spray splashing in my face, the sun on my head and the wind on a beam reach made me smile inside as I laid back with the wheel in my hands, chanting my mantra and meditating on my love. When the urges of the body wouldn’t stop screaming at me, I went down to the galley, auto pilot engaged, and made a bowl of cereal with coconut water I stocked up on in the US VI. Bread is something I saved for ports, but mostly I ate toasted oats, nuts, and dried berries with bananas. When I was in port I made some banana bread with my solar oven and it lasted me for a week. No more dairy, coconut was taking its place.
I often made my favorite black-eyed peas with a little salt and coconut oil, but it only lasted for a few days without refrigeration. That was ok. It was easy to cook, and I was a happy. I cooked on a cheap natural gas stove on the boat. If I expected to be out at sea for any length of time, I hoped to catch a fish and if not, I drank a protein shake I made from whey protein isolate.
The coconut oil was great for my skin. It both oiled and moisturized. I took a swig of apple cider every morning for my minerals and ate the edible seaweed I grew to identify. The days were long and the nights were short so I exercised while sailing by constantly tacking and adjusting my sails. I went up and down the stairs in the companionway, chanting with each step, keeping my legs strong and flexible. My body was a chariot and it needed to be oiled, exercised frequently and cleaned to keep it healthy for my soul, especially now since my body was aging. When I was in a foreign port, I tried to get a good massage. The island girls were strong and sweet and were happy to meet people traveling through their little spot in the universe.
I saved my meager social security income for fuel and boat repairs and as you may have heard, there are always repairs to be made on a boat. Sails rip, rigging rusts, batteries die, lines rot and leaks come. I kept some 5200 on board to seal cracks or holes worn from stanchions. I’d learned a little about my diesel engine and kept it serviced and running for those much needed and unexpected moments when the wind dies and you are just about to hit another boat. Oh Shit!
In one port I met another old sailor woman like myself who retired from the rigorous tasks of pulling sails and grinding winches herself but wanted to ride with me to the next port. We talked into the evening and laughed until we cried (about men, of course) as we both fell asleep on the cockpit. She gave me five pounds of dried coconut flakes, two pounds of cashew nuts, raisins packed securely in a plastic tub, a pound of sesame seeds and some exotic spices. She brought two bottles of French wine from Martinique, sharing the delicious fruit along the way. When we parted, she offered me her blessings for a safe journey. Namaste.
A storm arose one afternoon and lasted through the evening. I tethered myself to the boat, put on my life vest and held on for dear life to keep my baby from capsizing. That was definitely the hardest part of my trip. Being old, your body hurts. There were definitely times when I thought I would go overboard. After the storm, my main sail showed rips in three different places, water storage containers floated in the ocean, having fallen from the deck and I lost a small cooler I neglected to tie down. The storm took its toll on me, not being young anymore. I was so exhausted after the incident I could barely move. I fell asleep in the sunlight, thanking God for the experience and recognizing it could have been a lot worse, and I mean a lot worse.
After two months of sailing and stopping at different ports, getting supplies and selling jewelry, I finally came into Barbados where I called the Harbor Patrol with my VHF. They guided me to a safe anchorage not far from shore where I dropped both anchors and rested gently near a sandbar.
My keel was short, a shoal keel, which allowed me to go into shallow water. I took my dingy to out around forty feet to drop my bow anchor, then got back in the boat and started the engine, backing up just a touch to set the anchor. Putting the other anchor in my dingy, I paddled out to drop it in the water about 25 feet away from the stern. I started the engine again, moved forward just a touch to set the stern anchor. This kept the boat from swinging from side to side and rocking with the waves as well as keeping my boat in one place. Two guys and one gal from the Harbor Patrol were surprised and happy to hear about my long trip and congratulated me on my courage at this age. I was pretty happy about it too. My plan changed after the long, solo journey and I decided to stay in Barbados, rest and focus on my meditation and forget time existed anywhere other than in someone else’s mind. After a few months, I thought, I’ll do some island hopping to feel the wind in my sails once again, but for now, its local produce, local people, local stories and meditation.