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Traveling by boat can be difficult. It’s a fine balance of daylight, tides, currents, wave direction, wave height, the distance you are able to travel in a set period of time and of course that thing called wind. Unlike a car you can’t just stop it where ever you want and rest, which can make it difficult at times to get where you are going, but there within lies the challenge of sailing. This last week of sailing has been very challenging as I have been traveling some difficult waters with gale force winds and very strong currents. This week the ocean has punished me, pushing me, to see what I am made of. I have had some crazy experiences, nights without sleep, extreme weather and in the end for every blow and beating I have been dealt, I have been given an equal reward.

   As I crossed past Cuttyhunk Island (google) I was now exposed to the open North Atlantic in a full gale, the wave heights were well over my height as I stood in the cockpit, strapped in to keep from washing off the boat, I battled the waves off my rear quarter rolling the boat all the way onto its side before righting itself. I could have changed course and ran into Newport RI (a much easier sea motion) but I wanted Block Island, I needed to shake out my land legs, test the boat and sharpen my sea skills before heading out in to the open Atlantic 1200 miles to PR. As I got closer to the island the water got more turbulent, the wind stronger, spray sprayed like bullets from a machine gun and I just screamed. I wanted Block and I was going to get there. My screaming was soon silenced by a dropping in the sky, rain poured down on me like gravel. Down it came, down it came, I couldn’t see anything and like that it stopped, the clouds pulling away like a changing of a theatrical set, the sun came out. Although the swells were still mountains they were now smooth and the ocean was like glass, the rain with all its might flattened the sea. In the short distance I could see the green rolling hills of Block Island, its sandy shores and the harbor.  Like an Irish afternoon I ghosted in, waving at people fishing on the shore who waved me hello. The felling of inner strength, of accomplishment and joy filled my body. I was no longer tired, no longer in the sea; I was home for the night.

I couldn’t be happier with the performance the boat.

The harbor in Block is a pond in the center of the island, with good protection from the waves but its bottom is poor for holding on anchor. When I lay my head down that night it was soft and beautiful but I knew that the winds were coming. Out like a light and 2 seconds later awoke to the rigging whistling a high tune in the wind, I felt the boat moving my powerful anchor having no effect on the bottom in these high winds, I was skating across the harbor, heading towards the shore. I dashed on deck needing to pull up the anchor and move to a better position, I ran to the bow but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t pull in the anchor. In the blackness of the night I could just make out the advancing shore. I grabbed the anchor line and ran with it to the cockpit throwing it around one of the big winches, started the motor and moved forward steering with my legs and pulling with both hands as the boat advanced. Wham I was hit by a wall of wind like a truck nocking me down and tearing the anchor line out of my hands with so much force it peeled the skin off my thumb, finding myself once again heading to the shore.  I grabbed the line again deafly cursing at the wind “ You mother ……” and repeated the process until I felt the anchor break free and I started pulling as fast as I could, my arms burning, still screaming I got it in. I kept thinking “cross fit has nothing on me”. Two hours later I got the boat safely bedded down again with good holding. I awoke to the most perfect morning and day of sailing imaginable. I earned my sleep that night.

Pulling into Mystic gave me a childlike feeling of newness with its little homes along a tight channel, surreal sunlight, calm water. It was a place I knew I could stay forever. That day I rode my bike around town, went to the market, carefully selected my produce, cheese and bread. As I rode back to the boat along the railroad tracks, hundreds of birds sitting above me on a wire, the cloudy sky, it hit me. I now live where ever I am.

Today I find myself tied up to a dock in front of someone’s home in Westport, CT.  Last night I pulled into Westport, an unplanned stop but much needed since I ran out of favorable winds, current and day light. A gale would becoming sometime in the night and I needed a safe place to be. I motored up the little channel passing working tugs, small row boats and a fleet of sail boats second to none. By the time I got to the bridge at the top of the channel I had seen nothing, no places to anchor, no empty slips, nowhere to hang my hat. In defeat turned the boat around and said “you are just going to have to deal with the sea until you can make the next harbor.” A feeling of tiredness came over me, I was vulnerable as I mentally tried to gear myself up for the next 6 hours to Bridgeport when a man yelled from a dock in front of a little house “hey do you need a place to stay for the night?”….he helped me tie up, said this was his “boat house” and his boats had been pulled for the season. “Stay as long as you need, there is a storm coming, the place is unlocked, there is beer in the fridge, feel free to use the shower, maybe I will see you tomorrow”. I had few words, thank you really, that was about it, I didn’t know what to say. “My name is Tom, you are doing something that I have always wanted to do, I am glad I could help.” and he pulled away in a little boat.  I stood on the dock with just my thoughts for a while. In life, we build a protection around ourselves to the point where we no longer need or allow the opportunity for blessings. On a trip like this I have no such protections…I have been blessed more times in the last week than in the last 10 years. I went inside my boat, closed it tight from the cold night, lit a few candles, turned on some good jazz, sipped some wine and made a great dinner. The food never tasted so good.