Thoughts on Being a Landlubber Again

[carstenb]

January is almost behind us and we have made it through the darkest time of the year here in the north.
As I look out our window, here at 7:30 a.m., there is a faint light in the east. Dawn is arriving. The sun is something we haven’t seen much of while here. December had only two or three days where the sun peeped out from behind the clouds – the rest of the time, it was overcast and gray, gray, gray.
We think about at our almost two years in French Polynesia with longing.
It is one thing that the weather is crap – another is that we are landlubbers again. What a strange feeling. Made even stranger by the fact that this time we have purchased an apartment just around the corner from where we lived before we set out on our odyssey. Covid-19 has made our return date to Capri so uncertain that we could not continue to impose on the hospitality of our friends.

Houseguests, my mother used to say, are like fish – after three days they begin to smell.

When you have been a sailor(ess) for as long as we have, living on land is disturbing. Here, the weather doesn’t mean much (at sea you always have one eye on the barometer) if you dress for it. Our bed stands still when we crawl into our bunk (well, here we don’t crawl – we can walk almost completely around our bed).

Actually, just calling the place we sleep, a bedroom and not the forward cabin means our life has undergone a radical change.

On the boat, there are firm routines when you roll out of the seabunk. The very first thing is a check of the barometer, is the glass rising or falling? Thereafter, check the anchor alarm – have we dragged? Then the battery monitor to ensure there is plenty of juice. Now you can put on the kettle to make coffee/tea. While the water is heating, it is time for a quick trip up in the cockpit to see if everything is right in the world. Are we swinging too close to a neighboring boat? Is little Capri hanging as she should in the halyard? Does the rig and everything on deck look as it should? Back below – do we need to run the watermaker this morning and finally a glance at the “wailing wall” – what is on the repair list for today?

A sailor(ess) not on his boat is out of his element. He carries a restlessness in his body and soul. There is a luring sensation of something is not right. Something is missing. Conversations with the few (due to Covid-19) others he meets, are about unimportant topics: politics (oh, please!), the weather or some such things. They all seem banal when one is accustomed to discussing truly important issues: the coming weather windows, the boat, navigation, places one has sailed or how to repair whatever is wrong on the boat. Then there are the vital things, such as where can one buy/beg some spare parts or is the supply ship carrying enough diesel that the Captain is willing to sell some?

The latter are undoubtedly much more interesting questions.

Let’s be honest – a sailor on land without his boat is pitiful.

Vinnie and I spend a lot of time talking about where we should sail, once the world returns to some sort of normalcy. We know we will sail to Alaska.

After that?

We’re not sure – there are a myriad of possibilities.

Should we visit Mexico and Latin America? Not many cruisers venture down the Pacific side, so we would have it pretty much to ourselves. Down the west coast, through the Panama Canal, then turn our bows toward Denmark? That means we pass through Copenhagen’s King’s Channel and into the harbor in about three-and-a-half years. We will have sailed down the Oeresund Strait with Hamlet’s castle to starboard and understand how the sailors of yore felt when they passed here, knowing they were now home after many years at sea.

Or should we say – the hell with it – we loved French Polynesia. Why not turn to starboard when we hit Mexico and sail out to the Tuamotus, Society Islands and stay there for a couple of years? Then cross the rest of the Pacific and wind up in Denmark in four or five years? Two, three or four years in a bathing suit and flip-flops? That sounds more than enticing. We miss picking bananas, papayas, mangoes, not to mention pamplemousse right from the trees. Carsten misses coming back on the boat with a sack full of coconuts, then sitting on the back platform with his machete cracking them.

Buying fruit and coconuts at the local grocery, for some reason, just isn’t the same………………..

Not to mention the wonderfully friendly Polynesians, women who always have a flower in their hair (if it is behind the right ear – they are married, behind the left ear signifies that they are single and open if the right offer comes along). Beautiful bronze colored skin, fantastic tattoos and they can dance so you simply can’t believe your eyes.

Be at sea and gaze on a star-studded sky – a veritable carpet of twinkling stars. Nights as light as daytime when the moon is full. Hearing the waters gurgle at Capri’s bows as she cleaves her way through the waves.
Not the least this; hearing the humpback whales sing us a lullaby as we lay at anchor near Maui. An indescribable experience that few have had and one forever indelibly etched in our memories.

Fortunately, we live by the motto: We have no plans and by God we’re going to stick to them!

We’ll not have experiences or a life like that if we become landlubbers.
We can’t complain. We’re doing well and the reason for our return to Denmark had a happy ending. Vinni is completely well. She has no greater risk of getting breast cancer again than any other woman who has never had cancer. Truly a heaven-sent gift to us both.

Into each life, a little rain must fall (so they say). Vinni and I have, as usual, enjoyed the Danish kitchen (not to mention Christmas feasting) a bit too much – so we are carrying a couple extra kilos (Oh, how I wish it were only a couple) too much around the waist. January has been spent atoning for our gluttonous sins. The kilos ARE coming off – but it is no fun. We should be back to fighting weight sometime end February or mid-march.

A wise man once said, “you put on weight in pounds – but only lose it ounces” (sigh).

I seriously dislike wise men.

We go for long walks every day (there is nothing else to do – everything is shut down due to Covid). We hope to be vaccinated by the end of March or April and then we can begin thinking about how to get back to the US. Vaccination and having a Covid passport is a criterion for getting back to Capri. Unfortunately, there are many delays with the vaccines and we’re slowly resigning ourselves to the fact that we won’t get back early enough this spring to sail to Alaska (it is a three week sail to get there). That means we won’t go until the summer of 2022. The next year or so we’ll drive around the US in our hippie-camper.

We’ve spend many an hour talking about our future. We could get a very good price for Capri in the United States – maybe we should just sell her and return to Denmark. We could buy a trawler and sail through the European rivers and canals, exploring all the small towns and cities.

But no.

Our hearts beat for ocean cruising. We haven’t finished with the blue waters and if our health allows we’ll continue our cruising for several years.

[wolfgal]

absolutely beautiful for this dreary-n-gray saturday morning. thank you.


this shared new-normal of not-being-able-to-make-plans is just that, shared.

and in this context, having someone with whom to discuss it all is sometimes about as good as it gets.

and as far as that awkward-lubberness feeling goes, thank goodness it is mutual

am so glad your Vinnie is in the clear, that you can contemplate together the possibilities with which you can fill your tomorrows.

and... i wouldn't be able to even begin to consider selling a boat with a name like Capri either



wolfie

[Pete7]

Originally Posted by carstenb

Should we visit Mexico and Latin America? Not many cruisers venture down the Pacific side, so we would have it pretty much to ourselves.

That and continuing on to Patagonia I think would be fascinating and the weather agreeable for anyone who is from the N Europe.

Our boat is 1 mile away. The new alternator that arrived over Christmas still sat in its cardboard box by the front door

Pete

[JPA Cate]

Carsten, the star-studded skies are just super in the Pacific, low pollution.

Nowadays, decisions are very difficult, and good wishes to you and Vinni, whatever you choose. But you will probably never again see the heavens so clear. Choose what suits your hearts desires the best. What else can you do?

Ann, with affection; the choices aren't ever easy.

[Hudson Force]

Carsten,
I enjoyed reading your thoughts of life ashore. I share most of these except the opportunity to return to cruising, as Nancie's loss of mobility appears permanent; however, we are adapting well. I am no longer surprised to open the refrigerator door and see the bottles standing upright. The stillness in our rooms is no longer unsettling while we here the storm outside our windows.
I can't release the pursuit that always accompanied being a cruiser, so I've had to adjust my goals. I've shed most of my maintenance tools as the staff at our apartments would even come to change our light bulbs if they knew of a need. Now I spend hours each day improving my skills with music and ignoring the never changing lubber line within the compass on my desk.

[carstenb]

Originally Posted by Hudson Force

Carsten,
I enjoyed reading your thoughts of life ashore. I share most of these except the opportunity to return to cruising, as Nancie's loss of mobility appears permanent; however, we are adapting well. I am no longer surprised to open the refrigerator door and see the bottles standing upright. The stillness in our rooms is no longer unsettling while we here the storm outside our windows.
I can't release the pursuit that always accompanied being a cruiser, so I've had to adjust my goals. I've shed most of my maintenance tools as the staff at our apartments would even come to change our light bulbs if they knew of a need. Now I spend hours each day improving my skills with music and ignoring the never changing lubber line within the compass on my desk.

Truly sorry about Nancy - it is what we dread the most - when will our health fail us enough that we no longer can cruise.

It really is strange to
1 - own an apartment again
2- be living on the land and not just visiting.


We hope that we can get vaccinated and that the US will show mercy on people like us and allow us to get back to our boat. So far there is littel evidence that the Presidential Proclamation aobut visiting tourists will be lifted.

Ann - you are so right about the stars in the Pacific - the only ohter place I've been where I saw that many is far north and on the savannah in Africa.

[inchcailloch]

In UK for last year due lockdown. Hate it! Kept half sane by watching those "out there" on You Tube. Will be out there again as soon as "allowed". One thing i have learned. Houses are an investment, they are stable and secure. But they are a prison. Sailing is perceived as insecure, dangerous, yachts a strain on finances.......but boy, is it fun!

[redhead]

Thanks for bringing that smile to my face. Oh, and the sigh for things not yet seen. And happy to hear your good news on the health front.

Living aboard during this pandemic has tested us. I can't imagine going back to land and yet living at the end of the dock in a small marina in a small town in the Pacific Northwest has, at times been the loneliest I've been since we came aboard. Yes we can sail through the San Juans and we have, but the yearning to head north to Alaska still taps at our brains like a pesky gnat.

Thank goodness for our neighbors. At first we were the only liveaboards out here in the hinterlands (the commercial fishing dock). Then they put an old fishing boat turned liveaboard next to us. People!! Then on the other side they put a steel sailboat we had met in 2019 in the Broughtons on our other side with a lovely couple who had just bought her. I cried for 3 days because I could no longer see the water. But now we've formed a little community and it's saving my sanity during covid.

Last summer we and the steel sailboat went sailing through some of the San Juans and when it was over and we were coming into our home harbor we decided to anchor out for another 4 days in the outer harbor. Just couldn't see tying up to the dock again. It was like a boater's staycation.

I want to go to Mexico, but don't want to go until I see Alaska. I've fallen in love with this area (in the summer, that is) and know it will be better the farther north we get. Yesterday someone said "Yes, well planes go to Alaska" and that's true, but no land vacation will give me the sights that a month cruising Alaska's waters will. There's no silence on land.

Carsten, I hope you reunite with your boat this year. I hope you find the perfect answer to your dilemma of going north, south or west. They all sound fine to this dockbound sailor(ess).

[Papasail]

...and here I sit, in my new, cute, swively Alpaca print chair in Maine.
I moved here from Arkansas last fall. It was quite difficult, but know that buying this farm, beautiful as it is, was “Plan B”. Plan A, was to buy a sailboat and head to beautiful places in the world. But, like so many.... CoVid. The good news, is that I’m only 30 minutes from Belfast Bay (and thereby, the rest of the world), and have a huge barn. The barn will help me keep sailing as an honest, forthright potential: fixing, refitting, painting, storing, or preparing, to (GO!).

CoVid forced a more practical decision, but the last years of my life will be about sailing, and those illustrious clear aqua-blue waters.
I look forward to making sailing friends, talking about things that matter, and simply living to live simply. I planned for (10 years) to go sail the world, and only to be rebuked by CoVid. *I patiently wait to be vaccinated, and to hear whale song as I drift away.

“And dreams are like stairways of stars, the shimmering bioluminescence along Vadhoo island’s shoreline disappearing into them, up along to the higher ridges of a calming, sultry, tropical breeze, that writes it’s name on your heart with one loving finger.”

My time is coming, and to know, as in this post, that practical decisions can (still) lead to better, more worthy opportunities, is like a heathered wind softly ruffling my soul.

*freakin’........

“SEE YOU OUT THERE!!!”

))))))))))))

B

[sailingabe41ds]

Best post of the year....

Abe

[LouK]

And to that I say, Amen!

[boatpoker]

Dirt People Scare Me

[atoll]

Jab next week ,i will be happy if we can sail the 90 miles to the Scilly isles this year,those lobsters are not going to catch themselves without my help!

Be careful what you wish for, so far in the last 12 months onboard i have spent 8 of those months without going ashore any further than the beach to collect oysters and mussels as a shielding diabetic avoiding mutant humans!

[carstenb]

Originally Posted by redhead

Thanks for bringing that smile to my face. Oh, and the sigh for things not yet seen. And happy to hear your good news on the health front.

Living aboard during this pandemic has tested us. I can't imagine going back to land and yet living at the end of the dock in a small marina in a small town in the Pacific Northwest has, at times been the loneliest I've been since we came aboard. Yes we can sail through the San Juans and we have, but the yearning to head north to Alaska still taps at our brains like a pesky gnat.

Thank goodness for our neighbors. At first we were the only liveaboards out here in the hinterlands (the commercial fishing dock). Then they put an old fishing boat turned liveaboard next to us. People!! Then on the other side they put a steel sailboat we had met in 2019 in the Broughtons on our other side with a lovely couple who had just bought her. I cried for 3 days because I could no longer see the water. But now we've formed a little community and it's saving my sanity during covid.

Last summer we and the steel sailboat went sailing through some of the San Juans and when it was over and we were coming into our home harbor we decided to anchor out for another 4 days in the outer harbor. Just couldn't see tying up to the dock again. It was like a boater's staycation.

I want to go to Mexico, but don't want to go until I see Alaska. I've fallen in love with this area (in the summer, that is) and know it will be better the farther north we get. Yesterday someone said "Yes, well planes go to Alaska" and that's true, but no land vacation will give me the sights that a month cruising Alaska's waters will. There's no silence on land.

Carsten, I hope you reunite with your boat this year. I hope you find the perfect answer to your dilemma of going north, south or west. They all sound fine to this dockbound sailor(ess).

REdhead,

Capri is in Port Angeles - where are you? We sailed the San Juans last summer when we arrived from Hawaii - Wonderful sailing and it si like sailing in the Swedish/Finnish archepelagos - although in the Baltic there are no tides to think about

[Simi 60]

Originally Posted by carstenb

January is almost behind us.

February is almost behind us