Clearly, it was time for a change. Not just any change. I needed to get away to pursue a profound rethink. I needed to go back out to sea. Only the space and freedom of the ocean would satisfy, with its promise of adventure and connection to nature. In some ways, the ocean is truly unique.
The sea was calling, as it sometimes does, so Anne Phyfe and I began looking for a boat. Not just any boat. We needed the kind of boat made for the ocean; a quality vessel that can sail fast and cover thousands of open miles, handle storms, or be teased through doldrums. We needed an exceptional boat that we could bet our lives on.
Never mind how I talked my wife into this idea; I’m really not sure myself. It happened over years of sprinkled conversations. It’s possible she talked me into it after I’d painted so many romantic portraits of sailing the tropics.
As a teen, I had spent nearly three years doing this with my father, so I already knew the challenges — the primitiveness and confined spaces of life aboard, the physical hardships, the mechanical failures and open-ocean fixes, the multi-week passages; these are not the makings of an easy lifestyle.
Maybe time had turned my 80s memories sailing with Pop into rosy vignettes, blurred at the edges, emphasizing the good times over the bad. Maybe I sold my wife a distorted view of the sailor's life. Perhaps.
To be continued…
I’m writing these stories to promote my professional practice, Moonraker Creative, LLC. And to clear my head. I hope you enjoy reading this series about the voyage of Sweet Adeline, interspersed with the occasional post about a project or related musing.
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