To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive . . .
Issue 42 : May/Jun 2005
Aviators call it an “out-and-in” or “the $100 hamburger.” It’s a day trip of only a couple hundred miles or maybe less . . . flying to the next town or even the next state for lunch and then back home. Hangar space, ramp fees, maintenance, and fuel prices all add up to make that $5 hamburger cost a bit more, but we keep flying anyway. Very few have the time and money to take off on a coast-to-coast trip. However, there is still the allure of flying somewhere new, testing navigation skills, and operating around unfamiliar airports. Pilots on a day trip are out to experience the world through adventure, while gaining new confidence and new skills but without emptying their 401(k) or giving up their happy and comfortable lives.
What a day for a daysail
Sailors call it a daysail. But sadly, at times it is looked upon as a second-class affair. Flipping through the pages of nautical publications, we read about big boats, big budgets, and exciting voyages around the world. We read them for the same reason we listen to Captain Buffet. They feed the dream with the promise of adventure and exotic locales. Accordingly, we should always be looking for a bigger boat, better gear, and a lower interest loan to finance it all.
I sit on One Love’s port rail and watch the waves crash past, and I can’t help but disagree. One Love is 22 feet long, 2,400 pounds, and 100 percent paid for. I have my handheld GPS, and I can see our home marina on the horizon. But that’s not the point. Three miles behind me lies the Hampton River and a new port that I’ve just tackled. I’ve learned a few things and had a good lunch. It wasn’t quite “the $100 hamburger,” but it was still worth more than the $5 I paid. The water is blue. The sun is sinking to the west. The sails are full. And I could be anywhere. That’s the point … I could be anywhere.
Our fellow followers of wind and sky seem to remember that bigger and longer is not always better. It can just as easily mean more hassle and less fun. Robert Louis Stevenson said, “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive . . . ” As Harry Belafonte sings farewell to Jamaica on the portable stereo, I sail on for my afternoon of travel and — even though I know I will arrive back at my desk on Monday morning — I am still hopeful.
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