Advent to Adventure
Welcome.
Advent means something is about to happen. The word shares roots with adventure, an undertaking that brings risk.
I’m Christine Myers. Cruising by sailboat is my expertise, a competency built for twenty years over 65,000 sea miles. I boat-schooled three kids for five years while we sailed the world–somewhat ineptly–on our first boat, SV Delos. Despite crippling anxiety and ADHD, I became captain of our second boat, SV Hanalei.
The single most important lesson cruising taught me is this:
“Whatever it is you think you’re doing, wherever you think you’re going, something completely different is about to happen.”
Setting out to sea.
To cruise is to trade the safety of the known world–the comfort of home, steady income, possessions–for possibility. Possibility of great reward, sure. Freedom, new friends, experience, growth. But with it comes the risk of losing everything.
We’ve all experienced loss this year, whether we quarantined in an apartment, house or sailboat. Loss shows us in hindsight what was always at risk. It sometimes rearranges our priorities, shows us the loss we feared was no big deal. To step away from control is to let life change you.
Our plans turn out not to matter so much.
When our family left on our grand adventure, I printed out detailed itineraries. By the first Christmas in Turkey, we cut them into paper snowflakes. We slowed way down. Where we went wasn’t as important as who we met. We shared adversity that bonded us as family and as crew. We learned important skills: compassion, openness and flexibility. How to entertain ourselves.
Living on a sailboat is good training for a pandemic.
Change of Plans
In early March, our 53-foot Amel SuperMaramu, SV Hanalei, was anchored in Salinas, Ecuador. We thought we were on our way to Chile. We’d (mostly) provisioned for the passage and (mostly) finished our boat projects. All that remained was a two-week wait until our friend Barb could join us. To reward our scoutlike good behavior, Stephan and I decided to fly to Peru.
How could you not go to see Machu Picchu when it’s so near?
My body wasn’t made for 12,000 feet. I really do better at sea level.
The cure for altitude sickness?
Pop down to the Amazon.
How could we not? When would we have another opportunity?
Besides, I am much happier at sea level.
Then Peru closed its borders. Ditto Ecuador. A mandatory quarantine arrived and brought the Army to enforce two meters’ social distance. (Read more here, Do the Right Thing.)
Our plans turned out not to matter so much.
Still Life In Amazon
For two months we sheltered at Wasaí Lodge in Puerto Maldonado, a river town closer to Brazil and Bolivia than to Lima. We five guests lowered our expectations–of social interactions, meals, and activities.
It was quiet. Stephan and I both slowed way down. Again. Birdwatching reminded us to pay attention; identifying tropical plants could take all day.
It was very quiet. I learned to pound açai berries into juice and fold hotel towels into elephants. I made friends with a sloth and ingested frog venom. Seriously, wouldn’t you?
It was very, very quiet. Cooped up and sometimes cranky, we started family Zooms, played games and talked more than we had in years. We wondered if we’d make it to Chile this year. Wondered why after all these years we still made plans.
It was quiet on SV Hanalei, too. She spent most of the year at anchor, waiting. It took nine months, a humanitarian evacuation, and a surgical, possibly-illegal extraction but Stephan and I are back onboard.
Lockdown turns out to be good training for a transoceanic passage.
Quarantine life: towels into elephants.
How can I help?
The great privilege of travel, of this lifestyle, brings with it a responsibility to share experience. During the lockdown I thought about my role as mentor. This blog, this something-about-to-happen, is my gift to the cruising community, present and future.
The pandemic may have awakened something in you– a glimpse of the future, a longing for a different life. Maybe you’ve been plotting your own getaway for years. Nothing would make me happier than to help another dreamer find her way.
I’ll post a mix of practical advice, adventure, and good storytelling every Monday and Thursday.
SeaWomanship gives you assistance with sailing skills and cruise preparation, from hacks for seasickness to routing for hurricane season.
Has quarantine provoked a yen for armchair travel and sea adventure? We Are Here might satisfy your locked-down wanderlust.
Curious about cruising the world with three children? Time-travel back to Delos Days for our adventures on SV Delos.
You don’t have to know knots to be A Good Enough Cruiser. The qualities you need are already inside you. I hope my own fraught, often-laughable learning curve supports your journey, or at least helps you avoid disaster.
Let me know who you are and what you want to know. Ask me about anything in Do Tell! I won’t laugh. Promise.
The exhilaration of setting out on a passage.
Something is about to happen. Adventure. Let’s go together.
Fair winds,
Christine
Do tell!
I’d love to get to know you. What adventure do you dream about?
