The next adventure

It’s blowing a hooley tonight: the palm trees swishing in the wind and window frames rattling, and I’m hoping it calms down before Saturday’s race.

Sue, Judy Rae and I were down at the boat this afternoon, doing final prep for the 90-mile race ‘round the Coronado Islands to San Diego. YIPPEE KAI YAY was tugging at her lines, her rig shuddering in the wind. She bucked like a bronca against the dock; eager to get out on the race course, and I thought ‘Even without sails she’s a fast mother** …’

We have an interesting sisterhood, based on our shared near-tragedy; and often reflect (sometimes silently, but knowingly) of the miracle of survival. Last weekend Judy Rae asked if Sue and I wanted to get matching tattoos – appropriately of the Maori symbol that was on the spinnaker we cut away. The prospect of having needles repeatedly pricked into my skin is disagreeable (to say the least) but I’m thinking Yes, I want to make obvious this bond we have: of love and strength and perseverance. It’s something to be proud of.

BECAUSE I CAN

While blow-drying my panties in a hotel room in Moorehead City one morning (everything got drenched in the storm-tossed transfer from the research boat to the Coast Guard vessel) I pondered how, as a boating writer (I do prefer the snappier European term “yachting journo”) I’ve had the opportunity to experience so many amazing things:

Climbing aboard countless research vessels – large and small, including one large leaky ship in the midst of an Atlantic storm;  meeting fascinating sailors (the Russian gentleman who finally invited me below decks in the drowning rain, and showed me his route – on a tiny globe-shaped pencil sharpener - stands out); banging up the coast in a Volvo 60; camping out in the rain at a Hobie regatta; backing a 65’ twin screw into its skinny slip; hiking through the Baja desert in (failed) search of beer; jostling for space among the entire Italian media when Giovanni Solidini delivered Isabel Autissier to port, after rescuing her in the Southern Ocean;  getting t-boned in a go-cart in Montevideo by Brad Van Liew; and oh belting out a song or two on the table tops in Cape Town, South Africa and fishing boat in Honolulu; skinny dipping beneath the stars in St. Maarten; and dirty dancing at an underground bar in La Rochelle, France …

But most interestingly, I’ve embarked on many of these trips and adventures not exactly because they’re on my personal “bucket list” but because -- as a journalist -- I should, and because I can.

I can swing onto an oil platform. I can bob in the Bay of Biscay with the French version of the Three Stooges, in the sloppy black darkness, and await the arrival of race boats; and I can jump in water soupy with chum, and await the arrival of sharks. I can spend three nights off Anacapa Island counting tiny endangered sea birds, and feed injured sea lions … and clean up their pooey cages. I can film on a One - Design 48 even though the crew is not so secretly hoping the cameragirl falls overboard (I don’t). I can be in charge of the life raft on a risky helicopter shoot off the north side of Molokai. I can spend the night shivering on a chase boat off Diamond Head, wrapped in fishy burlap bags. I can learn Dutch drinking songs while tuna blood spews on my new shirt. I can grind a sail in for the 20^th time in four minutes, only to blow the sheet as we suddenly jibe around again. I can climb on sinking ships, troll for a dead body, don a bulletproof vest for a nighttime ride-along with the Harbor Cop, and endure endless barfy days and nights on boats of all sizes, with all sorts of characters, who speak various languages that I do not; because I can.

Despite hip surgery, back surgery, and abdominal surgery (not even a year ago); despite numbing fears, impropriety, despite silly superstitions …  my life seems to hold endless unexpected opportunities; a regal red carpet rolled out to lead me to my next adventure. I step on, and begin my next, again … because I can!

 

 

 

Next up ...

I am writing a book. A BOOK!
Very excited, coming soon(ish) to bookstores near you ...
:-D

Stand by for lift off ...

I might not be upside down any more but 'it ain't over' -- the fat lady isn't singing yet.

For now I'm living in Seal Beach - a community nestled just beneath Long Beach, still clinging to its' small town feel. I'm starting to recognize people (and vice versa) on my dog walks along the boardwalk in the fresh (and brrr!) ocean air, know what time the mail comes, and learn where the good parking spots are. I'm beginning to settle in -- no surprise: I worked here in THE LOG offices 15 years ago!

Besides the multitude of friends I've been able to reconnect with since I moved back south (and reunions yet to come) I've got a whole new set of homies in my outrigger canoe hui. I joined the smaller of the two local clubs, Lokahi, but the bonuses are huge. 1) Kristen and her sister Erin are members here and 2) Kirk, my Santa Barbara coach, has a brother Keith who coaches here. It felt immediately like home - from the warm welcoming hugs of strangers, to the familiar features of Keith: he and Kirk are identical twins! Everyone is helpful, fun and encouraging; and today, despite my frustration in my sloppy changes, our steersman Ray kept it powerful and positive. I'm enjoying this a lot and I am feeling pretty strong ;-)

The ease with which things are falling in to place tells me I've made the right move. Do we need more proof? Holly asked me to work with her as first mate on a Sunsail charter to Thailand! Yup - in just over a month I'll be on a flight to Phuket, with seven amazing and fun women as guests on our week-long cruise through the Andaman Sea!