Homeward Bound: Reflections and Retrospections
Either prompted by the chills of the night or a joyous
satisfaction, I found myself bubbling with a giddy contentment for Zephyrus and
the sailing life we’ve journeyed for these past weeks. Our once acquaintance now friend, Merlin,
rowed over in his dinghy just as we were finishing supper while enjoying the
live music in the park, just a stone’s throw from our ever-favorite city side
anchoring spot. He is one of those rare
treasures to find in Lake Superior, a young sailor using his vessel for more
than ‘cute little’ day sails and such.
There is an understanding between folk, choosing the living aboard
lifestyle, with no career padding under the belt, and that of day-to-day life
upon one of the most challenging lakes in the world.
And, as home draws nearer, we both, much like this town, just had this sort of weight of "giving up" and letting things drag on all the more. Our little wayfaring souls and heavy feet dragged us through the empty streets and such things not worth remembering perhaps. When knowing the travels are soon to end, the motivation for looking always through wondrous eyes, sometimes get a little lazy. Or maybe just worn out from a good-long beating of waves and loud sails all day. Who knows the cause, but I am here writing to simply state things as they seem in my memory.
The morning brought refreshment, as sleep usually does good things for a confused brain and tired body. And using all the best and last ingredients of our minimalist supply, breakfast was truly one to warm the soul.
A dark cloud to the north threatened us slightly with a silent rumor of bad weather, but soon after our bellies were full we were off into the breeze.
And not a single ugly or dark cloud passed overhead the rest of the day. The winds absolutely in our favor immediately pushed us exactly in the desired heading with both sails up at an amazing 5.3 knots! Though the waves were incredibly choppy and quite large, and hit us at the worst kind of angle, the wind was perfect to keep us flying, and as the sails usually do, stabilize us from the sort of rocking that causes the "nerve entitled patience" to give up trying. The pleasure was all ours, with perfectly clear skies and a happy sun above...the winds slowly faded throughout the day, causing us to motor the last 5 miles of the trip...but for an over 37 nautical miles kind of day, we sailed something like 95% of it...and were extremely, extremely satisfied. Though our own stabilizing muscles were pretty worn out.
Such times call for celebration. We dreamt of this day of our return when we could march into the Ambassador (in Houghton) somewhat triumphant of our travels and have a little time of splurging...and we surely did. You see, this was and is and will be our only eating out time of the trip (minus the treatment in Bayfield from friends) and as our trip is nearing its end, well...every now and then, two frugal newly-married people must do this kind of thing. Why do I go on about this....well perhaps its because, the small minor things in the simplified (but not simple) life of sailing, somehow become amplified and more worth talking about, because each meal is a bigger challenge and each day an arm wrestle with the weather. And some days we feel victorious over successful dinner stews and other days we feel defeated by anchoring locations, and somehow, in the air of a huge sky and when staring at waves and sails and horizon for the day, you feel like these small details of life are indeed...worth writing home about.
So as I sit, watching the sun set behind the Houghton bridge, while my ankles get feasted on by the mosquitoes (you see, library is closed, so I quietly loiter outside it's doors) I truly feel blessed to have such experiences lived in this 23 year old body of mine in a world with such an unpredictable future. The wonderful thing about all of this, is that which will live on more so than the experiences themselves. The character built up between my husband and I, and a deepening of our love that only comes from overcoming the challenging-yet-small tasks when set before us. Even if it seems like luxury traveling to the world, there is no price that can be paid for the understanding look we share as we try to explain to friends the joy of a free dock or the other stories we feel worth sharing...though they are absurd...they are ours...and we have a little humble pride in our stories about pizzas and anchors and such.
And for this, we continue to travel on and scratch our bug bites and stretch our sore backs from the uncomfortable beds.....it's because....well just because. Because we just do.
Blessings on you,
M
The morning had me moving and dressed before my mind was
awake to tell my body otherwise. Hardly
passing 6am, I was ready to go. Homeward
bound and headstrong about it. The only
problem was an oncoming mass of electricity and drizzle. I let it have its way, and wonderfully soon
after, the skies were clear. Anchor
pulled, sails up, and moving onward while a very comfortable Corey lay snug in
the v-berth. Moments after departure,
none other than Merlin himself came buzzing up in his dinghy triumphantly
holding a bag of scones for us! What a
delight it was to be gifted in such a way, so true to sailors!
The fishing boats and early ferries whirred past as Zephyrus
and I tacked our way out of the bay. The
sun was at a point in the sky where everything seemed to create a ‘what will
be’ very nostalgic memory and soon I found myself jumping into my favorite
combination of settings [orange goggles and music in my ears]. A profound sort of joy came over me as I
listened to (joshgarrels.bandcamp.com) the only musician I have ever encountered
that can grasp the depth of composition, sound, lyric and soul that I search
for (and have searched for) in music.
With the words of Corinthians before my eyes, I felt renewed entirely,
as if this trip had built in me a stronger character, with endurance to
encounter the trials I know this short life will bring my way.
The day eventually brought Corey out onto the deck and a
very smooth quiet sail under a brilliant sun.
The breeze and waves pushed us gently in the direction we were headed. Finally the option of hanging our bedding out
in the warm and dry light of day was available.
Despite looking like a gypsy caravan, the long-term dampness of ‘all
things cloth’ aboard Zephyrus was reaching a point of ridiculousness. Besides, when sailing out there surrounded by
the horizon, that kind of thought doesn't exist until retrospect anyhow.
Singing across the seas and feeling the tiny breeze. Then we saw the dark mass approaching us from
behind. Knowing the “scattered
thunderstorms” of the day were bringing winds just under 30 knots, we prepared
ourselves for battle. It was kind of
absurd thinking of how much preparation we did…in contrast with how slow this
storm was approaching us in the end. It’s
amazing what one intense experience can leave upon the soul. And boy, were we ever prepared for the
worst. Then we waited, almost like twiddling
our thumbs expecting a 100% contrast of environment than the one we had been
experiencing all day. As it came very
near, I began praying for our safety and within seconds the sun peeked back out
of the cloud, almost as if saying “you’re safe, I’m still here!” Then, as if some invisible force of nature or
simply our perfect position, we literally rode along the edge of this mass,
while remaining in the sun’s shine the entire time. Only affected by the intense winds that
suddenly picked up, we experienced not one drop of rain. Though I can say for sure, the “land-lubbers”
of the day surely experienced some downpour and thunder crashing, hopefully
from the cozy place of their homes.
Well, or the two men who got caught in an open-jeep in the downpour,
they seemed rather excited by the turn of events their day had brought.
Sails came back up and food was made…only to have half of it
crash onto the floor of the cockpit.
Ahh, such is the narrowness of space and the quickness of unexpected
movements on a boat. Pulling once more
into the very quiet Black River haven, we were soon barefoot and tossing a
Frisbee in the perfect afternoon sun and squishy grass of this place. And now, here we sit, inside the enclosed
(from the dusk mosquito army that is) pavilion, and two feet from me is a
blazing fire with a can of baked beans just about ready to be devoured. {Not that I am particularly fond of baked beans...but in this setting it has to be experienced regardless of enjoyment of flavor or texture...it all comes down to the little key word experience.} I enjoy looking at our lives from afar, and
this is truly a picturesque scene. Moments
earlier Corey smashed sticks to the desired size, and thus we sit with our
reading/writing electronic (this place has electricity yea!) materials before
the fire and our boat docked just down the hill on the riverside.
So I suppose it's alright to look fondly upon your circumstances from time to time, especially when the contrast of ups and downs become all the more apparent.
I found an unusual sort of parallel as we return home. So far our journeying to Black River both times has been climactic joyfilled sailing, in contrast with our journeying to Ontonagon both times has been frustrating and nerve pinching. You see, apparently much depends on the state of the weather of any given day. And it just so happened that our smooth and hopeful departure from Black River left us with an illusion of a perfect day of sailing, that ended up more being a noisy jib-banging-loudness that wretched the nerves each tug and pull of it's laxidasical movements. I won't go into much detail to spare you the wondering why's, and just say that when, at the end of the day, we disagreed three times on where to drop the anchor once in Ontonagon's muddy river, we were at the end of our nerves entitled 'patience.' As Corey and I reached a point of total disagreement on everything that was known to man, simply for the sake of our nerves and their having ran out of patience, we both had pretty absurd behavioral patterns as he simply just there and then dropped the anchor in one huge heap to the bottom letting the line go with it for some time, and I spanked his bottom in my anger for his doing such a bad thing. Haha, I'm laughing now, but it just was what it was. And as we went to our "separate ends of the 27' boat" for about 5 minutes, soon we rejoined in a shrug and a mouth's corner twitch that made us both laugh. You see, we know all the while that these things are no cause to allow oneself to linger in a land of "upsetness", which usually ends up giving more cause to remain upset for the ridiculous reasons that are causing it in the first place. Madness cycles.
Anyways, this time however we weren't met with a friendly bunch of boaters on the docks offering us warmth of company and delicious steaks....so we meandered around a town that had it's own sorry feelings wrapped up in a world of could be's. I suppose this sign encompasses a lot about the movement and state of this town:
I found an unusual sort of parallel as we return home. So far our journeying to Black River both times has been climactic joyfilled sailing, in contrast with our journeying to Ontonagon both times has been frustrating and nerve pinching. You see, apparently much depends on the state of the weather of any given day. And it just so happened that our smooth and hopeful departure from Black River left us with an illusion of a perfect day of sailing, that ended up more being a noisy jib-banging-loudness that wretched the nerves each tug and pull of it's laxidasical movements. I won't go into much detail to spare you the wondering why's, and just say that when, at the end of the day, we disagreed three times on where to drop the anchor once in Ontonagon's muddy river, we were at the end of our nerves entitled 'patience.' As Corey and I reached a point of total disagreement on everything that was known to man, simply for the sake of our nerves and their having ran out of patience, we both had pretty absurd behavioral patterns as he simply just there and then dropped the anchor in one huge heap to the bottom letting the line go with it for some time, and I spanked his bottom in my anger for his doing such a bad thing. Haha, I'm laughing now, but it just was what it was. And as we went to our "separate ends of the 27' boat" for about 5 minutes, soon we rejoined in a shrug and a mouth's corner twitch that made us both laugh. You see, we know all the while that these things are no cause to allow oneself to linger in a land of "upsetness", which usually ends up giving more cause to remain upset for the ridiculous reasons that are causing it in the first place. Madness cycles.
Anyways, this time however we weren't met with a friendly bunch of boaters on the docks offering us warmth of company and delicious steaks....so we meandered around a town that had it's own sorry feelings wrapped up in a world of could be's. I suppose this sign encompasses a lot about the movement and state of this town:
And, as home draws nearer, we both, much like this town, just had this sort of weight of "giving up" and letting things drag on all the more. Our little wayfaring souls and heavy feet dragged us through the empty streets and such things not worth remembering perhaps. When knowing the travels are soon to end, the motivation for looking always through wondrous eyes, sometimes get a little lazy. Or maybe just worn out from a good-long beating of waves and loud sails all day. Who knows the cause, but I am here writing to simply state things as they seem in my memory.
The morning brought refreshment, as sleep usually does good things for a confused brain and tired body. And using all the best and last ingredients of our minimalist supply, breakfast was truly one to warm the soul.
A dark cloud to the north threatened us slightly with a silent rumor of bad weather, but soon after our bellies were full we were off into the breeze.
And not a single ugly or dark cloud passed overhead the rest of the day. The winds absolutely in our favor immediately pushed us exactly in the desired heading with both sails up at an amazing 5.3 knots! Though the waves were incredibly choppy and quite large, and hit us at the worst kind of angle, the wind was perfect to keep us flying, and as the sails usually do, stabilize us from the sort of rocking that causes the "nerve entitled patience" to give up trying. The pleasure was all ours, with perfectly clear skies and a happy sun above...the winds slowly faded throughout the day, causing us to motor the last 5 miles of the trip...but for an over 37 nautical miles kind of day, we sailed something like 95% of it...and were extremely, extremely satisfied. Though our own stabilizing muscles were pretty worn out.
Such times call for celebration. We dreamt of this day of our return when we could march into the Ambassador (in Houghton) somewhat triumphant of our travels and have a little time of splurging...and we surely did. You see, this was and is and will be our only eating out time of the trip (minus the treatment in Bayfield from friends) and as our trip is nearing its end, well...every now and then, two frugal newly-married people must do this kind of thing. Why do I go on about this....well perhaps its because, the small minor things in the simplified (but not simple) life of sailing, somehow become amplified and more worth talking about, because each meal is a bigger challenge and each day an arm wrestle with the weather. And some days we feel victorious over successful dinner stews and other days we feel defeated by anchoring locations, and somehow, in the air of a huge sky and when staring at waves and sails and horizon for the day, you feel like these small details of life are indeed...worth writing home about.
So as I sit, watching the sun set behind the Houghton bridge, while my ankles get feasted on by the mosquitoes (you see, library is closed, so I quietly loiter outside it's doors) I truly feel blessed to have such experiences lived in this 23 year old body of mine in a world with such an unpredictable future. The wonderful thing about all of this, is that which will live on more so than the experiences themselves. The character built up between my husband and I, and a deepening of our love that only comes from overcoming the challenging-yet-small tasks when set before us. Even if it seems like luxury traveling to the world, there is no price that can be paid for the understanding look we share as we try to explain to friends the joy of a free dock or the other stories we feel worth sharing...though they are absurd...they are ours...and we have a little humble pride in our stories about pizzas and anchors and such.
And for this, we continue to travel on and scratch our bug bites and stretch our sore backs from the uncomfortable beds.....it's because....well just because. Because we just do.
Blessings on you,
M
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