Seashell Whispers

When I was a child my mother had a several sea shells decorating one of the coffee tables in our formal living room.  We were not suppose to play in there, so of course, we did.  We were not suppose to pick up the sea shells (they were spiny and fragile), so of course we did.  Mostly what I wanted was to listen for the sounds of the ocean in the shell.  I don't know where I learned this.  We were living in Colorado at the time and you don't get more land locked then that.  Nevertheless, I would walk into that room, pick up the shell and put it to my ear.  Straining to hear the sounds of the ocean.  Of course, I thought I could hear the ocean, even if I didn't really know what the ocean would sound like.  What I remember hearing was peace, that hollow, vacuum sound of nothing.  That was the sea, and it was calling to me.

I have been to the ocean many times in my life, although I don't think that I could ever get enough of it.  The warmth, the feel of the sand and the sound of water.  It can be waves, or running streams, or lapping water hitting something.  It all brings me a sense of tranquility.  When Andrew started talking more and more about sailing, I thought "sure why not?  I like being on the water."   I had no idea that this talk of a sailboat would become a reality sooner then later.   But I decided that I had better start educating myself on the world of sailing.  I picked up some of the sailing magazines that were lying around his dad's house.  I read several articles while we were there, picking up small tidbits here and there.  Then I picked up the book, Sailing Serrafyn.  That is when the call of the sea really began.  That book of adventures on the sea and far off places caught me.  I started looking up other blogs about people who were out sailing the world and having adventures of their own.   As the spring is warming up and summer is looming, I prepare to step on the boat and learn.  I have a tough summer ahead, full of boating terms,  how to be a good first mate and finding the balance of sea legs.  I am excited, and a bit scared.  Every time I see the blue sky and question whether or not I need the heavy coat I start to think of days spent on the water, feeling the wind, and enjoying the peace of the ocean. I am being pulled closer and closer.  

People ask me why I want to suddenly learn to sail.  The first reason is easy, I love Andrew and he loves to sail.  I want to share something that is special to him, and hopefully find that we can do this together. But beyond that, the more I read and learn, I want to be out there, riding the waves and feeling the thrill of the wind as it picks up the sails.  It is a way for me to gain the freedom that I have always wanted but did not think that I would be able to find.  I would like to find myself one day on a beach that is foreign to me and pick up a sea shell and place it to my ear and hear something that is familiar and loved.  I want to hear the sound of something that sounds like "home"

Getting Closer to Launch Day

Andrew and I had the same day off.  Miracle, I know.  Did we spend it doing something relaxing and fun?  Well that depends on who you ask.  Andrew would say while it wasn't relaxing, working on the boat is always fun.  I would disagree.  Not to mention the fact that we didn't even really spend the afternoon together.  I was on the deck of the boat and he was nine feet below me, working on the bottom of the boat.  But Sonador is closer to being ready to launch.

I spent the afternoon with a handy copper wire brush, an old t-shirt and these two guys:

Last fall, Andrew removed all the deck hardware in order to clean and reseal against leaks.  Following the general ideas outline in Boat U.S. magazine (found here: http://www.boatus.com/magazine/2013/April/rebed-deck-fittings-correctly.asp)  I was removing all the adhesive and old sealant.  So goes the monotonous labor of mineral spirits to t-shirt to deck, soak it good, scrub a bit with the brush, repeat until clean.  Then rub with the xylene to get off the last bits of gunk.  Fun right?  I thought you would agree with me.  Cleaning tiny holes like this:

I am not complaining, the alternative was under the boat in the gravel painting the bottom with anti-fouling paint.  Yuck.  Task completed - it wasn't too bad since the sun was shining and I convinced Andrew to undo the cover enough for me to see the sky.  Once they were all clean, Andrew drilled the holes slightly larger.

Can you see how dirty his pants are, hence the reason I didn't want to paint the bottom.  I had to get into the cabin and tape up all the holes from the bottom (we don't want the epoxy to go all over below).  Me and the Duct Tape.  Fast friends.

Finally it was time to add the epoxy...uh oh.  That is when Andrew realized that he had forgot to bring the caulking gun.  [Inject several choice words here]  Well that will have to wait until next time.  But the green bottom paint looks great.

Fantasy vs. Reality

The wind in my face as it brushes past the sails.  The sun is warm and the ocean below is turquoise and clear.  There is land in the distance, but mostly I am surrounded by water.  Relaxed and calm.  This is me suspended in my fantasy life aboard a sailing vessel.  I follow several blogs about others living this life and I am charmed.  Mesmerized.

And then the screeching halt into REALITY.  First, there is the learning.  I am slowly working through Sailing for Dummies.  I realize just how much there is too learn.  The terminology, the procedures, weather, navigation, etc.  There is nothing romantic about a boatyard in winter.   Our boat sits in a cradle, covered in a homemade cover.  Andrew is constantly driving out to see if the storms had blown it off.  It feels grey and lonely, with the only real sounds being the clanging of the lines hitting the mast on all the boats that are also in storage.  

Andrew really wants me to be excited.  But, as of yet it is hard to see the beauty of sailing.  As for the grey, lonely boatyard, Andrew and I looked and discussed many options for a boat slip.  He is the no frills kind of guy.  No amenties needed as long as he is in the water.  Me - I need a shower, bathroom, possibly club house.  It is these comforts that will make it possible for me to stay comfortably on the boat for a weekend.  After searching, we decided to stay where the boat was stored when we bought it.  

So now I may need to come to terms with my dreams and the reality that I am facing.  But as the sun starts to warm up I am ready to start working towards that dream.

A Halyard is A Halyard...DUH!

The other day Andrew and I were having dinner at a local place and discussing the usual - The Boat.  The discussion revolved around things that were in need of repair or needed to be replaced before the start of the season.  Me and the organizational lists, I NEED them.  Andrew starts to tell me that eventually the halyard would need to be replaced.  Alarm bells go off in my head, "Halyard?"  

So, I prepare for the uphill climb of learning a new term and I pose the question: "What is a halyard?" His simple reply, "A halyard is a halyard."   The words just sort of echoed around in my head.  I am pretty sure that my eyes were bugging out and my mouth might have been agape. (Please note: Andrew swears that this is not what he said, that this is what I thought he said)  Does he really expect me to magically understand what he means?  "Why yes my dear, that makes perfect sense.  Of course a halyard is a halyard" I think about retorting. Instead I try asking again, "Can you explain it in landlubber terms?" And so begins the downward spiral faster and faster, picking up speed at an alarming rate.   Terms are flying off his tongue, "lines", "mainsail", "jib".  He even starts looking for paper and pencil to draw a diagram and my head is still making sense of the first five words he spoke.  I try to simplify it for me, to get the very basics.  I clarify, "So it's a rope that helps pull up the mainsail?"  If I thought the tempest would stop swirling I was SO wrong.  The maelstrom began instead.

"No it is not a rope." He replies.  Now I am really confused.   Andrew being the old-fashioned, use the right terms, love of all things boat type sailor has to use all the correct terminology.  The correct terminology on a boat is that it is not a "rope" it is a "line" because there are "no ropes on boats, only lines".  This makes my crazy and that makes me stubborn. And the winds swirls and the storm of misunderstanding continues...

How did this whole discussion end up - with me requesting the book "Sailing for Dummies"  I figure that I need to go down to the basic level.  I need to learn from the ground up and from someone that isn't trying to use all the correct terminology to describe what I already don't understand.  What did Andrew come home with the very next day - the book I asked for.  [Sometimes he is very smart.]  And for right now the storm has subsided.  I don't think that this is the last fight we will have over "sailor speak" and the perfectionist of being a sailor, but at least for now I have something to read and reference with my questions.  We will have to see how it turns out.

And I promise there will be more on what exactly a halyard is.


Halyard - (definition from Wikipedia)  In sailing, a halyard or halliard is a line (rope) that is used to hoist a sail, a flag or a yard. The term halyard comes from the phrase, 'to haul yards'.

The Call of the Sea - Runs in the Family

Dad and I in front of the boat San Diego

My father loves water - rivers, lakes, oceans.  I think that he feels a great calm, along with the crazy enjoyment, anytime he is near the water.  He is simply drawn to it.  His voice changes when he talks about his time on the water.  There are so many old photographs of him on a boat, or with a fish he had caught ( he loved deep sea fishing, forget the small fish and bring on the swordfish).  When I was born we lived on a boat (OK, it was a yacht) until I almost went overboard and we moved to a house (I am sure at my mother's insistence).    Since then we have lived in land locked areas, the Midwest - it really doesn't get more land locked then that.  But my dad always finds the water.  Fish out of water.   His parents had a cabin on the river in Wyoming, where we would tube down the river in the day and sit by the water at night.  But some of my fondest memories were at Lake Pomme de Terre in the Ozarks.  Yes I know that it means Potato Lake which seems like a complete oxymoron, but hey it was a great time.  My best friend's family had been going to the lake for years.  They had a camper and a boat there.  Soon after we were parking our camper there and racing around on the boat too.  My dad loved driving us out and pulling us on tubes or skis.  At night he would sit outside and enjoy the sounds of water, wind and peace.  Now much older and looking for a way to escape the brutal heat of Phoenix in the summer,  he bought a boat and lived on it during the summers in San Diego.  His own escape, sitting out there in the ocean breeze.  I think that he only took it out a couple of times for an actual trip around the bay.  He developed friends and a social circle that he loved.  We all worried about him going out there - but who could stop him when he was so happy.  

He finally had to sell the boat. I know he misses it every summer.  It was a real joy to tell him that we bought a sailboat.  Of course, I don't think he knows how to sail and I sure don't.  But that is besides the point, the call of the water runs through me as well.  Something I think that I got from my dad.  And I hope that he will get a little joy out of my ridiculous journey as I learn how to be a sailor.(well he would if I could teach him how to get to this blog)  I hope that he is proud of me for answering the call of the water. 

My sister and I enjoying the sun and water

Sonador...door to wanderlust

We bought a boat!  Did I mention that to everyone I know?  Not quite, as many of my friends will tell you.  Well technically Andrew bought the boat.  But seriously, that is a trivial detail.  Her name currently is Sonador, which in Spanish means "dreamy".  At first, I hated the name.  Mainly because I couldn't pronounce it ( I know ridiculous reason).  After thinking about it, "dreamy" is just the way to begin my own sailing adventure.  In October, Andrew found the boat listed online in a marina about an hour away.  After going to see it, he couldn't contain the excitement.   He kept talking about it.  Then Hurricane Sandy hit.  There was so much devastation in that area, we were afraid that the boat might have been severely damaged.  We both drove down to look - my first time.  She was in one piece and still solid.  We bought her.  In a Wegmans' (grocery store) cafe he  signed all the papers -and BOOM - we own a 25 foot Catalina.  Crazy!  But exciting.  Now comes the real test - Will I like sailing?  

Does it seems weird that we bought a boat and I don't even know how to sail?  I could possibly be seasick at every turn. So why are we doing this I ask myself all the time.  The answer is:  We are following a dream.    Andrew can barely contain himself, he started work on the boat immediately.  He took down the mast and sails, unloaded everything from the inside.  There are open containers in our basement and more sails and cushions at his work.  Eventually I am going to have to put some organization into all of this but I am letting it go for now.  I couldn't even tell you what is in those boxes and what they are used for.  But one day I hope to understand.  I am definitely willing to learn about all of this.  Lots of studying for me and hopefully i will learn by osmosis.

Andrew and I at the Annapolis Boat Show 2012

The other thing that has me slowly falling in love with the idea of sailing is all the articles and books that I am reading on "cruising."  This wonderful idea of leaving behind all the chaos of living and working for the peace of the sea and the excitement of exploring new places.  Don't get me wrong there is lots of work and labor involved in keeping up with the needs of the boat, but there is something to be said for exploring the world.  Now if that doesn't sound like a "dreamy" existence I don't know what does.  So we begin...and I learn to sail.  What is windward anyway?


Definition of WINDWARD:  Toward the wind, into the wind.