We've been SO busy unpacking and trying to get settled, there's no time to write!
Here is a little story about our most recent sailing excursion......
A few hours into the first day of our ten day sail I said to Chris, “How long before we’re there?” To which he replied, “ Leigh, we ARE there. This is where we want to be. Sailing on the open waters, sun shining, sipping cocktails.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. But he was right. And those words will forever ring clear in such moments moving forward.
We ate and drank and swam and rode bikes and sailed and sunned and discovered new coastal towns. Just the two of us. In a way, it was kind of like another honeymoon. Until Hurricane Irene threatened to send us sailing all the way back to Connecticut on day four. Over wine and a gorgeous sunset off the back of the boat in the middle of the Edgartown Harbor in Martha’s Vineyard, we decided to take our chances and continue on the with the trip. We assured ourselves this was the best option considering heading back to where the storm was surely going to hit was not a safe bet for the boat or for us. We would ride the storm out in Nantucket! Perfect.
The sail to Nantucket was absolutely beautiful. Perfect amount of wind and we practically flew there. The harbor was packed but when we arrived they had a mooring ball waiting for us. The harbor master pulled up, helped us with our lines, and handed over a booklet of information on the island. So cute!
We walked around the crowded town a bit and then headed back to the boat to nap shower and get ready for the evening. A friend from CT was vacationing on the island and she had invited us to dinner at The Galley. We happy hour’d on the boat and then dined with our toes in the sand near the crashing waves of the ocean.
The next morning…..we got kicked of the island. They were going to evacuate the harbor and we had to go. But go WHERE??? We can’t go back to CT. We’ll never make it in time and the storm would be WAY worse down there! We quickly decided to go back to Martha’s and started the sail back.
RIDICULOUS wind gusts and seriously tall waves did not make for a pretty commute back. In fact, the head sail completely snapped out of it’s tight closure and spun all the way out loudly flapping in the wind. Chris and I looked at each other stunned. What the hell where we supposed to do now?? We both just sat there for what seemed like ages staring at the beautiful sail flap hysterically. It was painful to watch. I knew it was just being beat to death and not only that-the lines of the gorgeous cloth were beating the deck to death busting out lights and nailing the port hole windows. Chris was frozen and panicked. And I shouted at him to “do something!!” “I’m thinking! I’m going back to sailing 101,” he replied to no one. It was too windy. We couldn’t tighten the lines. And we couldn’t just keep going this way. How was I to grab the mooring when we arrived? The sail would either pitch me over or beat me to death. “We have to get it down,” he finally stated solemnly.
I asked if he had a life line. We hooked it onto his life jacket and then to the boat. He would manually pull the sail down and stuff it into the captain’s quarters at the bow of the boat. He handed me a knife and told me to cut the lines if he couldn’t pull it close enough to him. Then he told me how to turn the boat around if he fell off.
I was FREAKING out. I had completely forgotten how to use the radio? “What button do I push to call the coastguard? Sit on your bottom and scoot out there. Can we just turn the boat off? Let’s turn the engine off! BE CAREFUL!!” I shouted to him as he walked up.
I frantically watched on as he tried with all this might to get the thing down. He was hidden now, standing in the porthole and buried beneath sailcloth. My heart pounding, I watched for an arm to reach out and grasp at yet another bunch. After a time had passed without seeing anything, I was convinced he was suffocating under all the material and I scooted up to the bow. Without a lifeline. Stupid. I know. I then tried with all my might to help him get the last bit down. He was in pain and exhausted with scratches all over his arms and back. But he did it…
It was over.
What if I had lost him?