Have my sea legs underneath me now.
I had ambitions of posting every day on our journey to Nuuk, but my stomach wouldn’t allow it. With my hand on the wheel and my eyes on the horizon, I’d never been seasick running Moon Dance on the protected waters of the Salish Sea. However, focusing on a laptop screen while moving through swells on the open ocean had me nauseous within a few minutes. Fortunately, my fellow crew are made of tougher stuff. Mario, especially, has been posting daily. Here’s a quick recap:
July 9: We depart from Portland, Maine and make way toward the southern tip of Nova Socia
July 10: The Eastern to Atlantic time change confuses Sam and me on night watch. Sam does one hour less than he should, and Mario does one hour more. The engine starts belching black smoke. Sam redeems himself by diagnosing the issue in five minutes. Scott is the consummate skipper for having the part that’s never supposed to fail on board. We move into protected waters to make the fix and anchor at McGraff’s Cove.
July 11: Since we dropped anchor in Canadian waters, we leave at 5:30 am go into Halifax to clear customs. Two good-natured custom officers board the boat to check paperwork and the shotguns on board (needed for polar bears). After heading out from the harbor, the weather gets a little sporty. We anchor again that evening in a lovely spot off Goose Island.
July 12: I sleep in late and wake up to the boat underway in beautiful seas. I feel better than I have all trip and do my first workout aboard. Mario, Scott and I all get in 100 push-ups. I do twenty minutes of cardio taking steps up the bridge ladder. Forecasted weather changes our estimated arrival date and I reschedule my departure from Nuuk from July 20 to July 23. We make our way through locks into Bras d’Or Lake on the northeastern tip of Nova Scotia and spend the evening tied to the dock at the St. Peter’s marina.
July 13: We leave the dock at 8am on a flat Bras d’Or. Mario reflects on the wisdom of slowing down.
The crew dynamic is good. Scott is an excellent captain. He has over 4,600 hours on this boat and knows every system inside and out. He commands when he needs to (docking and transiting locks, for example) and the rest of us know how to do what we’re told. Scott trains us on boat systems at a reasonable pace, does more than his fair share of cooking, and loves to tell stories and laugh at Sam’s. He checked in with me when he knew I wasn’t feeling well. Mario is a topflight marine safety expert with a soft voice, wicked sense of humor, and flair for writing. I’ve known Sam for twenty-five years and he’s always been a great storyteller and cruising companion. He also has a lifetime of experience building and repairing boats that’s already proven extremely helpful.
We have a fixed watch schedule when moving at night but during the day it is more unstructured with each of us taking turns in pilot’s seat, monitoring instruments and scanning the water for buoys, other boats, and potential hazards. Mealtime is flexible; we take turns cooking and cleaning in a way that feels natural. We share close quarters and know the how to dance out of each other’s way and provide space when needed. There is lots of time to look at the water, the sky, and notice one’s thoughts.
I felt crummy the first three days. I was a bit nauseous, and my energy was low. Some combination of a motion sickness, a lingering cold, lack of exercise, and grief was dragging me down. I was still enjoying the whole experience but not as much if my body had felt better. Yesterday, I turned the corner. Today, the sun is bright, we are cruising on flat water, and I feel good.
I think of Julie often. Sam and I reminisced about her delight at winning the raffle at a party he and Soitza hosted years ago that made me feel happy and then sad. Mario is partnered with a lovely woman named Julie, whom I met at the dinner Scott hosted the night before we left. The two of them are newly retired and planning their next chapter together. I’m happy and excited for them but also saddened for the plans with my Julie that are lost. The wave metaphor has never felt more apt. My feelings of loss and grief arise, wash over me, and then drain away. I’m on a wonderful adventure, full of gratitude for my crewmates and the life I am living.
More links
The expedition website with our log posts is at
Location and the weather:
https://forecast.predictwind.com/tracking/display/Sarah_Sarah
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61575973191949
https://www.facebook.com/sam.devlin.50
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