Interlude

Back home. Where is home anyway?

“Sometimes you have to go on when you don't feel like it, and sometimes you're doing good work when it feels like all you're managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.” Stephen King

I begin this post, settled behind the wheel, once again at the helm of Adiona. Dressed in a smart wool pullover and foulies, feet in red boots, a scrap of brightness in the seascape of shades of fog, silver and gray, I scan the chartplotter, radar, instrument panel, and horizon, composing a few phrases as I am able. Joe returned to be the “official” watch stander, as typing on a keyboard is not really the wisest idea while helming. Kind of like driving and texting. We are rocking and rolling out here, no wind in sight, as we travel from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia to Halifax.

Feeling, at the moment, far from the quote at the top of this post, our 445 am awakening sweetened by slightly squashed, warm, buttery croissants(squished during the dry bag ferrying to the mother ship) with plenty of dark chocolate and strong cups of coffee. Stephen King’s words, however, sum up some of the travails we worked through to be here now. Funny how sometimes hard things can be transformative, making the reward that much more… well.. rewarding!

Way back in May, I wrote about my back issues and then my writing went silent. Thank you to those who reached out and apologies to anyone we worried! I gimped home, helped by a skilled PT, whose office happened to be adjacent to Sadler Point Marina in Jacksonville. Unable to lift my duffle and in significant pain so not caring about appearances, I dragged it through the airports to carts when I could find them. Landing on my mother’s doorstep for the first few days was sanctuary, even at our ages and stages. I missed her! My sisters made time in their busy schedules and I even saw a few nieces and a nephew. Over Indian food, we caught up and then I slept. Hours. I drove back to our home in Lansing and installed myself with my daughter, Violet and her boyfriend, Brian, to begin rounds of doctor appointments, tests, and treatment.

Scenes of home and just some of the dear ones.

Meanwhile, in Jacksonville, Joe went into typical overdrive, working his way through a sizable list of upgrades and repairs. We returned to replace our house batteries and broken anchor light, choosing that location because we met Patrick, a trustworthy and skilled electrician when we were stuck in Florida last winter with engine issues. Patrick drove to the store and picked up the batteries we’d ordered, bringing them to Adiona, a generosity in our car-free lifestyle. Joe, of course, did not stop at those two repairs. He serviced all the winches, rebuilt leaky port lights, serviced the anchor windlass, tuned and adjusted our old Perkins engine, replenished our spares, replaced the broken toilet seat we were unable to find in the Bahamas, had a new custom built mattress(for people with bad backs!)with custom sheets made for our boat and so on. Joe even found the energy to reorganize the silverware drawer, dishes and food storage containers(!!) to his liking. Some items, it may be noted, may have been modified for easier use by the Queen of Libations/Chief Steward since then.

Lt to rt: Adiona clocking 14! knits, swimming 100 miles offshore, generous gift from neighbors Sue and Steve, the salty crew beard contest and victory cheer!

All the while, Joe kept checking in with me and looking at the weather to move the boat northward. He worked on assembling a crew, searching for at least one experienced sailor so he would be able to catch some sleep enroute. We also spent much time communicating. How was I doing? When would I be back? How would we get north? Where would we go? How we would spend our summer? What was our sailing future? The answers on my end from my health care practitioners were vague and stress-inducing: not right away, timeline unknown.

At my initial appointments, my orthopedic doctor refused to discuss our ambitious plans to sail to Nova Scotia this summer, raised eyebrows and throat-clearing answering my planned itinerary. The seriousness of the situation was impressed upon me. Instead, the doctor prescribed a round of presdosone, regular workouts with a trainer, rest, PT- if I could find it, chiropractic and massage. An mri confirmed a herniated disc, my spine a roadmap of middle age, hyper-flexibility, and a life of hard physical work. My planned 12-day jaunt home began to stretch worryingly in front of me.

Dealing with a significant amount of pain and numbness, I initially sought connections with friends and family, so much dearly missed community. Realizing I would be home longer than we ever thought and that my primary job was to get better, I began to slow down and prioritize healing for probably the first time in my life. Healing was my job. As Joe planned with our weather router and his crew, bitterness washed over me. I was watching life from the sidelines and felt I was not doing “my part.”

I’ve already written that I understand self-pity while pursuing dreams and adventuring by sea is self-indulgent. It is honest hard, inner work to live it. Crossing Buffalo Street after stopping at Oasis to buy bread baked by Wide Awake Bakery and locally made seitan one of the first nights I was home, I felt awash in pain and loneliness. As much as I love the Finger Lakes, my extended family, friends and community, my home is with Joe and on Adiona. This imbued my healing with a sense of purpose and the desire to be my best self as I connected with loved ones who had their own needs and burdens, many much heavier than mine. I felt a deep gratitude for the opportunity to slow down and take notice. It was early summer after all. There was the sobering haze from wildfires. There were also fresh strawberries, shared laughter, music, long hugs with friends, orioles, delicious meals, saunas, and tying up some loose ends.

As I pushed myself to increase my steps, upon my doctor’s directives, I enjoyed slowly strolling(well, hobbling at first), through Sapsucker Woods, the Botanical Gardens, our woods at the camp, and our neighborhood in Lansing. Several friends invited me to stay with them and so I moved around, enjoying the gift of time with people dear to my heart. I also took care of a lot of items on the “business” end of life, including packing up my office and biding farewell to my job at SUNY Cortland- at least for now. I am trying official retirement. Woohoo!

And Adiona and Joe? On June 16, they departed Jacksonville, Florida with long-time friends Wayne and Jeff aboard, as well as experienced sailor Jeff, who Joe met at our marina. Their sail northward, in the unsettled weather that ruled the eastern seaboard this summer was noteworthy. Thunderstorms behind them at the mouth of the St. John’s River settled for a few days. The guys rounded Cape Hatteras well offshore, stopping the boat to have a swim almost 100 miles offshore. Early days were spent fishing, trading stories, Joe monitoring the weather and service as chief chef. Riding the Gulf Stream northward, they cruised along at 10 knots, eventually hitting an unbelievable(for our boat) 14 knots as they motor sailed, trying to outrun the storms behind them. Joe and I stayed in touch via iridium mail. I monitored their progress via our PredictWind link and watched them change course, according to the updated weather forecasts they received. As they were parallel to Cape May, I was alarmed to see the boat speed drop below two knots simultaneously with wind, seas and inclement weather pounding them. Messaging with Joe, I soon learned that Adiona lost her steering, the steering chain breaking. The boat hove to, exactly as she should, providing enough stability for the crew to work. Joe determined that the autopilot, a completely separate steering system, was intact and brought Adiona on past Block Island, up Narragansett Bay and to the pier to one of our favorite marinas, Dutch Harbor in Jamestown, Rhode Island. A homecoming.

The seven day passage had its dramatic points, with seas 13 to 19 feet, burying the bow. In roiling green water, Joe crawled forward on his belly, clipping in as he went, to fasten the anchor that had worked loose and was slamming into the deck, barely able to be heard above the din of the storm and the seas. Joe crept forward, aware that if he was swept overboard, odds were not in his favor.

The seas were rough and they motor sailed close-hauled. They could only nap sitting, packed together for stability. The wind blew a steady 30 knots. At one point, one of the crew stood on the port side settee to close a leaking, loose hatch. At that moment, the boat dropped into the trough of a large wave, launching him across the main salon. Thankfully, he sustained only soreness and some bruises. Joe, braced on the starboard settee, route-planning, deftly moved aside, avoiding a collision.

Several of the dinghy handles ripped beyond repair as the seas worked against the boat lashed to the deck. One empty jerry can sank to Neptune’s lair. The block on the staysail ripped out; a repair we made in Rockland, Maine requiring four trips up the mast for Joe and the help of new friends. Numerous small things broke.

Safely on the pier, following a cheer with an early morning whiskey in hand, the crew slept. Then came the cleanup. Finally they scattered; Circumnavigator Jeff returned to Florida by train and the other three, tired but triumphant sailors, drove home to Ithaca. An odyssey. A short reunion for Joe and me included a wonderful dinner hosted by Lu and Wayne, where we heard the tale. This time, the seas did not have to grow taller. There was enough real stuff to spin a good yarn.

In just a few short days, Joe reluctantly returned to Adiona, both our home and taskmaster. I kept on my training schedule and on June 27 received cautious good news: I was healing, not healed. My doctor okayed my plan to return to life on a mooring, gauge how I felt. Sail to Rockland, if okay. Take stock. Each step. Breathe deeply. Rest when needed. And here we are. Jamestown. Then through Cape Cod Canal. Rockland. 36 hours to Shelburne, Nova Scotia. 14 hours to Lunenburg. 10 hours to Halifax. We are out here! We are having a wonderful time! It is rocking and rolling. We are back home. Together. ❤️⛵️