Off the Map 03/23/13

We’ve been virtually out of contact with the “outside world” for over a week now.  We’ve been from anchorage to anchorage and across a body of water over 3000 feet deep.  We haven’t moved faster than 8.1 knots per hour in, gosh, as long as I can think of!   And even 8.1 knots per hour is an irrelevant figure when you’re doing that in the middle of nowhere with nothing around to PASS! 

The remoteness of all of this might be some people’s vision of perfection – sunrises and sunsets, quiet days and no distractions.  But for a girl of constant movement and social interaction, the whole thing is more surreal than perfect.  I’m not saying that there isn’t a great degree of beauty or mystique about all of this, I’d be beyond crazy if I couldn’t see the magic here – it’s just that I’m allowing myself a moment of homesickness, at least for now.

Anyone who knows me for any length of time will realize how I thrive on community.  We get our fair share of social interaction.  Every day is filled with the radio blurting out hails from boat to boat – including those we contribute as we connect with cruisers in the area.  We enjoy sundowners regularly and meet new people just about every day.  It’s fun to move anchorages and reconnect with boats we’ve met from somewhere along the way.  BUT – when all is said and done, there’s really nothing quite as wonderful as friends who “get” you. 

Our life in Charleston included everything from volunteering with Special Olympics to riding with our motorcycle coffee group.  We enjoyed meeting with the Cruising Club of Charleston and I met with my book club and “Dining for Women” every month.  I miss singing with the CSO Gospel Choir and paddling with our countless friends in Dragon Boat Charleston.  Add to this our two great kids, fun neighbors, business associates, dockside neighbors and amazing friends and you get a feel for what we left behind.

I know our adventure is a romantic dream.  I feel the same way about all of those who inspired this journey throughout our past.  And the adventure itself is beyond measure.  The sunrises and sunsets really ARE breathtaking – EVERY DAY!  And the crystal clear water, amazing horizons, colorful fish and limitless vistas can’t be discounted, no matter how you look at it.  But I have to say – I’m feelin’ homesick.

We left the calm waters of the past few days in the Exumas across the Exuma Sound to Eleuthera yesterday.  The winds were perfect – about 15 – 20 knots from the southeast providing a slightly following breeze and sea that filled our sails and pushed us along without any drama.  We cut the engine after weighing anchor in our spot at Cambridge Key until the final turn into the Rock Sound Harbor, about 40 miles.  It was an amazing day.

We arrived with our crossing friends aboard Puffin and Providence and grabbed an anchorage that promised protected conditions from the increasing winds.  We gathered together for a wonderful meal of fresh caught mahi (good goin’ Puffin!) and sides we contributed.  We shared stories and said our goodbyes as they both left early today for points further north. 

And that’s how this life goes.  Friends are made every single day – and in hours they become GOOD friends.  With shared challenges and fears, this lifestyle creates instant camaraderie.  Then they’re gone.  Then the next day dawns and you meet others from along your path - today we met up with Dark Star and Lamareux who pulled into the anchorage this afternoon – both boats we’ve run into (not literally of course!) throughout last year and this.   As happy as we are to see familiar faces, the faces of family and friends at home come even clearer in view.

So the point of all of this is to say – in case you’re wondering . . . you’re missed!  This girl, in particular, would give anything to be in a room with you all even for just a moment or two.  Get and give a smile and a hug and share a laugh of FAMILIAR times together.  I’m lovin’ what we’re doing here and marvel every single day at what we’ve actually accomplished . . . but I sure will be happy to see your faces when we pull back into our port called HOME.