One Week In

Our Atlantic Crossing Adventure

I crawled into bed at 12am boat time (1am GMT), sore with sleepiness.  My sixth night watch shift had just ended, and I felt a delicious wave of relief as my head met the pillow. I felt sticky and dirty but too tired to do anything about it, and so let myself sink into the mattress and the waves below it.

10% awake, David, who’d been asleep for 2 hours already, reached over and asked, ‘You okay babe?’ 

I met his question with laughter.  ‘What in the hell are we doing?’

More giggles from me and muffled confusion from David.

‘I mean seriously, who’s idea was this?!’

The first couple of days at sea (and their corresponding night watches) had been fueled with a bit of adrenaline and the need to get our bearings. (Never have I said this so literally!)  The next couple were dominated by sheer, unadulterated gratitude – beautifully coinciding with Thanksgiving Day.  And the next couple… well, the routine of being at sea has started to take root. 

The waves of excitement have morphed into ripples of joy brought on by the little things.  Watching the flying fish in the early morning hours, hearing the tug of a potential catch on the fishing line or seeing one of our fellow boats in the far distance.

Gratefulness comes often – for the beauty I’m quite literally surrounded by, for a crew of kind, fun and funny humans, for the opportunity to do this big thing.

And I’ll admit that an uncomfortable boredom can sometimes creep in.  I started to hear my brain ask with increased frequency, ‘What now?’ And as if by miracle, I read a line by Glennon Doyle a couple of days ago that said, ‘The moment after we don't know what to do with ourselves is the moment we find ourselves. Right after itchy boredom is self-discovery.”   

This has dramatically shifted how I feel and respond when Elliot says (albeit rarely), ‘But there’s nothing to doooooo.’  Where previously I would have felt a guilty responsibility to figure out how to keep him entertained, I now think, ‘Oh gooooood.  I wonder what he will figure out, what he’ll dream up next,’ and then observe out of the corner of my eye to watch it unfold.

For myself, there’s an expanding part of me that revels in this feeling when it happens.  After all, the way I typically do adulting back home doesn’t very often afford the opportunity for boredom.  I’ve decided that this feeling is there to remind me to breathe, stretch, write, read or just look around, with no particular outcome in mind for that activity. 

What also comes is the realization that this whole thing is slightly absurd.  (Hence the giggling in the middle of the night.) Sleeping in shifts, stressing about sails and food and energy and water and, and, and… when we could have hopped on a plane instead if we wanted?!?

But if we’d done that, I’d have missed out on

-       Doing crafts with Elliot (he never wants to do this at home)

-       Flying fish in the morning

-       Laughing hysterically with this bunch over our meals

-       Getting to know the stars on night watch

-       All of this space to breath and think and stretch and read and be.

 A fair price to pay for a bit of absurdity, I’d say. 

Check in with us next week though.

Sailing Summary

• We started out with very light winds and headed in the direction of Cape Verde to try to catch the trade winds

• One day of nice, strong winds perfect for our Wingaker (a huge, pretty and patterned sail), followed by a quite choppy day with very little wind, which is a perfect recipe for a bit of sea-sickness!

• Smooth sailing since then - perfect for all things concerning living on board (baking, crafting, generally enjoying life), but not great for getting there very quickly. We have taken the decision to head further south in search of stronger winds.

• 700 nautical miles in with less than 2,000 to go. Currently placed 7th in our class…not that it’s a race!