The water crashed over the bow as the jib sail flopped wildly in the wind. My father just stared at it as he held the tiller, making no motion to correct the situation. Only then did he realize that hypothermia had set in. He motioned me out of the cabin, where I had been warm for the previous six hours as we beat into the wind. At age 13, I was thrilled to be needed, and even more thrilled to face the elements and bring the boat and our family into safe harbor three hours later.
Those are the moments of our sailing adventures I remember fondly, and the kinds of situations that weld me to those memories as I sail today. What I forget are the endless hours of boredom while I was waiting for my father, who never dropped a sail or started a motor unless there was no puff of wind left to fill a sail, to move us faster to our destination. My sister sometimes provided entertainment as we played card games or board games, but that grew a bit stale after day number three, or so (out of a five-week voyage).
The history of that boredom came back to me as I prepared for crew number two - with another set of grandchildren to take their turn at the proverbial tiller. The forecast promised calm conditions, which could mean periods of inaction. Boredom, even on a large sailboat, can lead to a chorus of “when are we going to get there,” kinds of questions. You can’t exactly say, “if you don’t stop asking, I’m just going to pull over!”
So we loaded up with options: Bonnie’s favorite Raspberry Island with its lighthouse, or to Stockton Island’s Quarry Bay, Madeline with its ice cream shops and pizza restaurants, or even a lazy day in Pikes Bay Marina with its swimming pool. Destinations that might inspire adolescent patience.
After discussion, the grandkids were enthusiastically unanimous (a rarity): sail to Raspberry and discover that island, with its swimming beach and hike to the restored 1863 lighthouse.
We started out on motor, but the wind came up at the halfway point, with patience intact. One of those grandchildren remembered last year when we had woollier conditions, which she didn’t care for. This kind of sailing, without the heeling and the bouncing, was much more to her liking. They were all engaged in the bustle on deck.
The island did not disappoint. Lots of swimming and beaching, a hike through the woods to the lighthouse, a grand lighthouse tour, and back for a return sail. By the time we pulled back into port, all the kids were so spent they drifted off with nary a peep about boredom.
The next morning, when we asked, “What would you like to do?”, the rapid response was, “Go sailing!” I almost fell over with pride and satisfaction. My only regret was that we had to turn back to avoid the thunderstorms that were approaching.
Still, it was a perfect ending to a perfect week. The boat had done its job - bringing us together, giving us time with our grandchildren, and letting us recreate some of the memories that shaped our own lives. It doesn’t get better than that.
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