What Being Stuck on a Sailboat For 27 Hours Taught Me.
“I’m game.”
This is a phrase we give my dad the most shit for. He’s always game, always up for something, and the older I get I wonder if I’m slowly becoming my own version of him. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad thing to be up for an adventure. That is how I found myself on (what in theory) should have been a relaxing weekend away on a sailboat, doing air squats in the broom closet of a bathroom.
A little bit of backstory-I’m a Seattle born and bred outdoor enthusiast who loves my suffer-fests, type 2 adventures and anything else that falls under the “character building” category. I’m also a personal trainer by trade, aka if I go longer than an hour or two sitting I go a little stir crazy. Knowing that about myself, I enthusiastically accepted an invitation to spend a night aboard a new friends’ sailboat with her and her partner.
They picked me up on an uncharacteristically warm May evening and drove 1.5 hours north to the small marine town of Anacortes, WA where their boat was docked. As soon as I sat down in the shotgun seat of the Prius, I started to get the vibe that would pervade until the next night.
You don’t know someone until you drive with them. And you don’t truly know someone until you drive with them and their boyfriend basically coaching from the backseat…
“Babe you’re going to want to take this left.”
“Yeah that’s why you missed that exit, google maps is garbage.”
“Babe if you need help driving, let me take over.”
It dawned on me (possibly thanks to an active imagination + a love of crime movies) that I really didn’t know these people that well and was basically at their mercy…however, a few near misses whilst changing lanes aside, we managed to arrive in anacortes in one piece, $250 in groceries in hand, and finally boarded the vessel.
Another detail about me, that is relevant to this story, is my deep and unending love affair with healthy, fresh food- and how I can also reach next levels of hangry if given the opportunity. There had been some dinner brainstorming prior to motoring off towards our chosen island for the night, and a bag of chexmix was passed around (note: this was around 8pm). We did not reach our destination until about 10pm. I repeat: WE DID NOT EAT DINNER UNTIL 10PM.
As much as I would like to fancy myself a posh gal with European tendencies, eating past 8pm will never be one of them. God help whoever is around me if that is somehow the case. We all inhaled our bowl of tortellini in record time and immediately following I excused myself to my tunnel of a bed chamber.
According to the sleep app I faithfully follow, my sleep time that night totaled approximately 4.5 hours. The couple gleefully exclaimed the next morning that they had never experienced such a rocky night on the boat before! I could only nod and hobble towards the french press.
As soon as I was on deck though, the day took an optimistic turn. We spent the night in the waters next to a dramatically rugged island. I attempted some half-assed yoga stretches, ultimately deciding that a giant second cup of coffee with was a much more practical idea. I began to let my overactive imagination run wild again-I loved sailing! I could become a worldly, savvy lady sailor and live on my boat and do virtual personal training, while acquiring a tan boyfriend to feed me grapes.
2 hours later that vision was long gone. Breakfast was hours ago, and there still didn’t seem to be any movement towards actually getting on with the day. Mercifully, they decided around 11:30am it might be nice to start sailing and I awkwardly tried to stay out of the way while they did lots of yelling, running around and untying of billowing sheets.
Admittedly, it was an absolutely glorious day to be alive in Washington. The San Juan Islands and surrounding waterways are world class, (so they told me). They exclaimed over the herons, ospreys, and I would pitch in by pointing out large ferry boats that seemed dangerously close. The bag of chexmix and smartfood popcorn was continuously passed around…and the next 8 hours continued in this fashion.
I caught myself staring wistfully at Mt. Baker, a snow-covered volcano I summited the summer prior wishing I could at least walk around somewhere to stretch my legs. As luck would have it, they did not actually own a dingy to get to any of the empty beaches that beckoned; only a stand up paddle board. Therefore we were all basically trapped on the boat unless something went horribly wrong enough for the 3 of us to cram on the paddleboard to get to shore.
There are many nuances to sailing it turns out. One of them being, appreantly it isn’t kosher to just turn on the engine in a dead wind zone. I subtly brought this up both times we found ourselves drifting languidly along a shore. My query was met with whimsical laughing, and being handed a gin and tonic.
Although the pace felt excruciatingly slow compared to my usual non stop motion, there were moments I felt completely at peace. We meandered by an incredible homestead on the edge of a cliff, and had a long distance chat with the windswept old man who had lived there for 25 years. I made myself a meat and cheese plate while gazing a side of the islands that few people get to see. I also took over steering for a long, calm stretch and felt very important. My reiki teacher (who I had texted in a claustrophobic panic) reminded me that this would be a great 24 hour meditation practice opportunity.
As the sun started to dip below the cypress trees, the Anacortes marina came into view. I said a small prayer that nothing would get in the way of my impending fish taco dinner.
We pulled into the docking spot and appeared to be done with our journey. I was graciously about to offer to get off first and start unloading gear, when they asked would I mind if we actually extended the trip by another hour or so to go fill the boat up with gas? My heart plummeted like the anchor we had dropped into the water earlier
“Sure” I croaked, and made my way down the steep staircase into the cabin, where I stayed for the next 45 minutes. We unloaded our bags, got in the car and drove like a bat out of hell to the downtown of Anacortes. Sunday night in a town where the average age is about 200, and the single open establishment was a pizza parlor selling salads only.
We ate in silence in the car, all silently questioning the freshness of the shrimp in our caesar salads but not caring enough to pick through them.
I didn’t realize, after they had dropped me off at home was that I would continue swaying around like a drunk for the next few hours. I weaved my way to the grocery store to get a midnight snack and continued being unsteady on my feet well into the next day.
I learned 4 important lessons that weekend that apply to sailing and life in general.
- Always bring a puffy jacket, take advantage of the marina restrooms BEFORE boarding the vessel.
- Adding foamed half and half in your coffee on a boat gives you a celebrity status Mariah-Carey-on-board feeling.
- One can only listen to sea shanty songs on repeat so many times before wanting to throw yourself off deck.
- Be present in the moment- even if that moment is very, very long.
