When people ask Mike and me what our travel plans are aboard Galapagos, we really have to kind of shrug, give a general overview of where we dream of going, and then we fall back on, ‘First, we have to leave the dock.’
Yesterday we did it. After 5 years of working toward this goal, this day where we would finally untie our lines and leave the marina and our land lives behind for awhile, this day that had loomed large and, sometimes, dark in my imagination, came and went the way all other days come and go. As just a matter of course. The time passed gently by, a sigh rather than a wail. It was a huge relief.
There’s our slip, empty as we pull away. It was filled about 2 hours later with the next customer.
Like all big life transitions, we did feel as though we should mark the day in some way. How should we do that? Should we have a party? Should we do some ritual spitting and whirling? Should everyone gather at the dock and wave goodbye? All of that seemed too much and not right, and we ended up doing nothing formal at all, which is kind of our style anyhow. And it turned out to be the perfect choice.
Friends Carolyn and Arlen and their dandy dog Monroe saw us off the dock and held the bow line just to make me feel better. Then they were there to catch our lines as we pulled up to the fuel dock. Friend Sam who works at the marina was there to help us fill the fuel tanks. In the end, with hugs and well wishes all around, we slipped away and into the placid waters of Commencement Bay, the whole world in front of us.
The lack of obvious fanfare does not mean, however, that we didn’t have some mighty fine omens in the mix. Mike and I learned to sail on Commencement Bay. We cut our teeth on those waters in our Catalina 27, Saucy Sue. Last year we joined a racing crew aboard SV Blue Moon. As we were at the fuel dock, who should come by but Blue Moon! They were going out for a pleasure sail and we got to say hello and goodbye to her captain and many of the crew we raced with last season. It was just so very good to see them all! I have really missed those Wednesday night races and the crew of Blue Moon very much. We learned a lot about sail trim last season, but mostly we enjoyed the crew and just being aboard with them.
As we pulled out into Foss Waterway, we passed another sailboat and Mike waved to Mike Rice, his sailing instructor from his ASA 101 class 13 years ago. I kind of wanted to pull over and let Mike tell his old teacher what he’s up to now, but we carried on, the symbolism of the moment enough.
When you add to the fact that we took on only 108 gallons of fuel to fill the tank instead of the over 200 we had anticipated, the day was shaping up nicely and the omens for the trip were all to the good.
Farewell for now, Tacoma.
As we rounded Point Defiance going with the current, there was an eagle hunting the waters off the point, my personal talisman of good fortune when we begin any trip. There were many seals in the water sending us off, as well as some harbor porpoises. What a day!
We made excellent time on completely flat, sometimes glassy, water down to Henderson Inlet, just north of Olympia. The engine chugged merrily, happy to be useful again. The cockpit cushions I made felt luxurious. I had zero anxiety. That was the very best omen of all. We dropped our new Mantus anchor overboard, it caught as we expected it would, I made the first entry in the log book, and now the first day is over and done. Just like that. Just like any other day.
Next stop, the boatyard. We’ll do a bottom job on our big girl, pull the mizzen and fix the leak underneath that, and probably tie up some other loose ends that are best attended to on the hard. After that we plan to find a nice place to anchor in Gig Harbor for the rest of the month. We are really looking forward to that, for some reason. (Maybe that has to do with resting!) We like Gig Harbor, and being there for awhile will offer us a way to transition to this boat life and still have a few land based amenities, not to mention access to family and friends while we are still in the area. The tall ships are coming to Tacoma in June and we plan a couple of day sails out among the big girls with family aboard. You know nothing makes me happier than that. Unless it’s seeing whales. And that will be later this summer. Get ready, whales! Mike is practicing his whale calling songs!
So, we’re off. Phase one of Little Cunning Plan, Leave the Dock, is complete. On to phase two. Where will it take us? I guess we will see!
I want to take this opportunity to express our gratitude to our family and friends who have been nothing but supportive of this life transition. To a person, they have all helped us embrace the challenge, have supported us emotionally when things were hard, have offered to help when things were tough, have been proud of what we are doing, and have never, even once, tried to hold us back. This is no small thing. And this is not the experience many people have when they decide to go cruising on a sailboat. Thank you so much Claire and Andrew, Mom, Amy, Darin, Will, Reid, Jill, Dan, Carolyn, Karen, and Molly. Thank you for your support, for believing in us, for not thinking we are crazy, for knowing we have to do this now or risk never doing it at all, for all the reassurances that this will work. We love you all so much.
Thank you to all the many friends we have; too many to list here but you know who you are. Thank you for your kindness and support and your continued friendship in the face of our distracted lives. We know it must have surely looked many times like we were not paying attention. It means more to us than you will ever know that you continued to be our friends anyhow. And we will miss you all dearly. We will pay your kindness forward in the world, to be sure. And we’ll be back.