They quell fear of the unknown with caution and careful planning
Issue 127: July/Aug 2019
Many old nautical charts bore the warning “Here Be Dragons” scribed across uncharted regions. When my husband, David, and I moved aboard Nine of Cups, every aspect of our lives became an uncharted area: our lifestyle, the boat, and living aboard. Mapping our new life meant applying new labels to the most common things. The kitchen became the galley, the toilet became the head. Here be dragons.
Unlike some fortunate sailors, we weren’t educated in the sailing life as youngsters. David always dreamed of a life at sea, and even joined the Navy, but in his entire 6-year naval career, never spent one day on a ship. I grew up near the East Coast, but the only boat I ever stepped aboard was Grandpa’s rowboat on the local lake. To become sailors in our 40s, David and I had to work hard. We read everything we could lay our hands on about sailing and boats. We gobbled up the sailing magazines, in awe of those folks who lived aboard and cruised in exotic places like the Caribbean or the South Pacific. We took sailing lessons, safety and first-aid courses, an intense week aboard a real yacht with a captain who taught us “everything there is to know about sailing.” We bareboat chartered.
After years of dreaming, we retired from our jobs, sold the house, furnishings, and the cars, and headed to Kemah, Texas, where our newly purchased 1986 Liberty 458 sat waiting. Oh, my! David might have been ready for this, but I was having second thoughts as we crammed our worldly possessions aboard. What did we really know about sailboats and sailing and living on the water? It was over- whelming. We were really doing this, but were we ready? Was I ready?
Enter the dragons, those things that cause angst, the fear and anticipation that gets the heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, and stomach churning. This wasn’t what we’d planned for; it was time to start thinking in a new way. We began to view “harrowing experiences” as adventures. Scary mishaps were learning opportunities. Each time we overcame a fear, we said we’d “slayed a dragon.” There was a dragon to slay the first time we backed our new boat out of the marina berth, the first time we were out of sight of land, and the first time we waited for a bridge to open. It was a world of firsts.
After a comfortable month berthed in a protected, cushy marina, leaving the dock unleashed a host of dragons. Casting off meant we were setting out across the Gulf of Mexico on our first multiple-day passage, and would experience our first night watch. Get the armor, shields, and lances ready!
We watched the weather and waited for a good window. As night approached that first evening and it was my turn to stand watch alone, I could barely contain myself. Night watch? What I dreaded the most turned out to be a time of silent contemplation I could never have imagined I’d enjoy as much as I still do. The stars and moon never seemed so bright or so close. I could hear the dolphins exhale as they danced their ballet beside the boat. Bioluminescence sparkled in our wake. I could sing loudly (and off key) to my heart’s content and never be heard by my partner sleeping below. The passage was calm, and the most difficult part was the constant work required to maneuver around the never-ending oil platforms. We did have a small fire aboard (dragon’s breath, we think) when a plastic toolbox that was too close to the engine exhaust began to melt. The engine quit a couple of times, but David managed to get it started again. As we handled each fresh challenge, our confidence grew and, one by one, dragons faded into the mist . . . only to be replaced by more dragons, sometimes larger ones, as we ventured further.
Dragons come in all sizes and shapes; not all of them arise from heart-pounding experiences. When we determined in Ecuador that the cost of replacing the dodger and bimini was too dear for the budget, we decided that I’d make new ones. I’m not a seamstress and my dread was palpable. What if I screwed it up? What if I wrecked all that expensive fabric? What if I failed? Take a deep breath, Marcie. Think it through. Do some research. Talk out the plan with David. Start the project. Not right? Tear it out and do it again. Be patient. We ended up with a new dodger, bimini, sailcover, winch covers, hatch covers, and more. Because by slaying one dragon, I gained the energy and confidence to take on more.
Everyone who’s sailed long enough has experienced their share of hairy moments. The first few nasty squalls that come out of nowhere will cause anyone to wonder what the hell they’re doing out in this miserable weather with waves breaking over the bow. We’ve hit rocks and reefs, we’ve dragged our anchor, and a dragging ship almost hit us in Fiji. The good thing about experiences like these is that we learned from them and emerged stronger, ready to face bigger dragons.
Our philosophy has become “just a little further.” When we set sail back in 2000, we didn’t name Cape Horn or Tasmania or Africa as our destination. That would have felt overwhelming and dangerously daunting. We set smaller goals of overnight destinations and two- to three-day passages. We practiced heaving-to, anchoring and docking techniques, and man-overboard drills until we felt confident in our ability to cope with most situations we might face. We continue to learn, because Neptune is a hard taskmaster.
And it must be said that dragon slaying isn’t for everyone. We’ve learned that our lives are much richer and that we are much stronger for not giving in to our fears. Experience is the best teacher, and we’ve learned that advance discussion, careful planning, and practice significantly diminish the fierceness of any dragon. After 18 years and nearly 90,000 miles, our reward is that dragons are fewer and farther between. Being able to ease my grip on my shield and lance makes sailing much more enjoyable.
Marcie Connelly-Lynn and her husband, David Lynn, lived aboard Nine of Cups, their Liberty 458 cutter, for 18 years, during which time they put nearly 90,000 nautical miles under her keel and visited more than 36 countries on five continents. They now travel by foot and in a tricked-out Ford Transit van named Blue. They blog regularly and maintain an extensive website at justalittlefurther.com.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
