September 2006 — My first sailing experience came when I was
about ten and my parents signed my brother and me up for a sailing course
on Lake Quinsigamond in my hometown of Shrewsbury, MA. I hated it, and
could not for the life of me tie that stupid Bowline knot that was apparently
so important! In high school I sailed a bit on a friend's Hobie Cat on
another nearby lake, and although I was much more entertained than I had
been at age 10, I didn't learn much!
As a junior in college I was looking for a "study
abroad" program. Instead I found and applied to a sail training
program. Sea Education Association in Woods Hole, MA offered a semester
program with classes in Oceanography, Maritime studies, and Nautical
Science, all taught, in part, aboard a 134 ft brigantine sailing from the
Virgin islands, to Bermuda and Nova Scotia, and finally returning to Woods
Hole.
As my shipmates and I arrived in St. Croix, got
underway, and anchored beneath the shadow of Buck Island on our first night
at sea, I looked back at the lights of the bigger Island and felt the
pressures of land based life begin to melt away: out here, they couldn't
get me.
Within three days offshore all that mattered was
sailing the boat. When we raised Bermuda on the horizon about 12 days
later, I climbed onto the Elephant Table and curled up in the Fisherman
sail, wishing I never had to move from that spot. I was not ready to go
ashore. Life felt better at sea. I knew I had found the best place for me.
When our cruise ended, stepping ashore and leaving
Cramer was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. As I walked
away I ran my hand along her beautiful hull, and looked up into the rigging
one last time, trying to rip myself away. I walked forcefully to the car
before turning to look at her alongside the dock. My poor family then had
to listen to me cry for a good half hour on the way home! My whole
perspective had changed from being offshore, the world had remarkable
clarity, but on the other hand I couldn't go into a shopping mall without
feeling crowded and disillusioned by the clutter of people and things. I
wanted to be back at sea.
Of course those feelings wane, but I can always get
them back by being offshore for those three days, when the world slips off
your shoulders and you sail the boat.
After college I took a job as a nanny for newborn
triplets and spent every naptime with Bernard Moitessier, Tania Aaebi,
Tristan Jones and other singlehanders imagining my own boat and time alone
on the water. I dreamt of long offshore passages. I began to save up, and
although I came home with only $500, I soon found my perfect offshore
cruiser at a Mass Maritime boat auction. I bid all $500, every penny I had
in the world, and was soon the proud owner of a 40 year old Pearson Triton.
The first year after I bought my boat I spent every weekend driving from MA
to Triangle Marine in Kingstown, RI where my project boat had found a home.
Most of the time I spent Saturday night on a friend's boat, or I put my old
sails out in my own dusty V berth and slept aboard in the shop. After a
year or so I moved to Newport to be closer to the boat. I got a job as crew
on local charter yacht, but soon found that if I was sailing every day from
9 in the morning to 9 at night, I in fact had LESS time for my boat than
when I was living in MA. Unfortunately it didn't matter quite so much
anymore: I was sailing. I worked on boats almost every day that summer, on
every possible boat doing charters and deliveries, and when I wasn't
working, I was sailing and racing for fun with friends. That winter I
studied for my USCG 100ton Master's ticket and the following summer was
able to captain the boat on which I had previously worked as crew.
I am interested in the Transat 650 because it is still
a yacht race with the purest intentions. It offers all the challenges of
offshore single handed sailing with less of the accoutrements; it’s a race
about the skipper and his boat, about their relationship and personal
potential.
I go to sea because of the way it puts the functions
of the world in perspective; I can begin to understand patterns of weather,
the movements of the stars and planets and how they can tell me where my
little boat is on this earth. At sea my relationship with these phenomena
matters; on land our intimate connection with the earth is removed.
I want to race the mini because it offers PURPOSE to
this increased understanding of my relationship with the planet: he who
understands and interprets the world best, and who makes the best decisions
with the information perceived, just might WIN the race (of course a fast
boat helps.. but..!). It's the perfect incentive for internalizing as much
as possible about yacht design, aero and hydrodynamics, how the world
works, how the boat works, and how the two can interact.
To me, single handed racing challenges every aspect of
human performance. I want the chance to challenge myself in that way. Most
importantly though, I hope that with every person that dreams to cross an
ocean on a tiny boat, or circumnavigate the world, or climb mountains, or
to explore their dreams in any way; that more and more people will learn
that dreams can be MADE into reality, and that it is possible to dare to do
what you WANT. Having worked as the master of a sailing charter boat, the
phrase I heard most often was "I wish I could do something I love,
you're so lucky". I was more than lucky, I had the best job in the
world, I got paid to go sailing! But, I CHOSE it, and I made sacrifices to
achieve that goal and others. Everything is possible. In the words of Ellen
Macarthur (and others I hope), A Donf! Go for it!
