Two Albertans in search of their sea legs…
Today is June 28. Nearly two months ago, we had the experience
of a lifetime aboard Ruby Tuesday in the Bahamas. The fact that this blog is being written so
long afterward is a testimony to the messy busyness of our daily lives. We have had many moments of reflection in the
past two months on the purpose of this endless striving. While we are landlocked in Calgary (home to
cows, Christians, and country music), we are fervent outdoor people and the
Rocky Mountains are on our doorstep. We
take full advantage of fabulous hiking, skiing, and climbing when we can tear
ourselves away from work. However,
nearly every summer since our children were in diapers, we escaped to the west coast
and took to our kayaks. The ocean feels
truly liberating, with life simplified to what you can carry and time marked by
sunrise, sunset, wind and weather..…with the opportunity to untether from the
quotidian shackles and blow the dust of everyday life off the soul (to
paraphrase Picasso). I had an inkling
that sailing would be a natural extension of this experience, on a larger
canvas. I was correct.
Elsie and Lionel have much to teach us of
the fine art of living well and we are lucky to have joined them, on their journey,
albeit briefly. In a fit of enthusiasm,
I took a week long sailing course more than a decade ago but, much to my
disappointment, the other participants were more interested in getting to the
nearest port and bar as early in the day as possible. Elsie and Lionel are real sailors, as I knew
they would be. We observed a purposeful
efficiency to the daily routines aboard dear Ruby and a comfortable sharing of
duties and negotiated decision-making – shake out one reef or two? genoa or no genoa? anchor here one day or
two? As newbies, we tried to stay out of
the way as much as possible. I think
Lionel may have wished to cast us overboard only once or twice. I could be mistaken. The first day was an inauspicious start. With unfavourable winds we motored to our
first anchorage and Ruby pitched and rolled, humbling the landlubbers into spending
that day flat on deck, gripping the lee rail with grim determination, retching
our innards out. Elsie looked
concerned. Lionel’s expression was more
judgemental. However! In spite of a rough first night in the aft
cabin, rolling and bumping into each other like two running shoes in a washing
machine, we recovered for day 2 and the rest of the trip. Albert, in spite of his inherent resistance
to flaky, new-agey therapies, concluded that the wrist bands do work perfectly,
as long as they are put on before the boat is moving, not after one is
afflicted. Once recovered, and interested
in learning to work the boat, we watched and clumsily tried to assist. It did take me (engineer and mathematician)
two days to work out the function of the topping lift. Lionel, ever patient: “take in the main sheet please….no, the other
side…No, the Other line….yes, clockwise around the winch. I’m sure we learned something, even if we are
not yet capable of commandeering a toy sailboat on a calm pond.
I had the fantastic opportunity of getting
up with Elsie to sail at night. Complete
magic. Ruby performed a graceful,
swooping corkscrew dance on the water, and you felt as if you could touch the
star blanket overhead. In my mind I
heard a favourite piece of music:
Metamorphosis by Philip Glass. Tranquil,
meditative, surreal. I was spirited
away. Ruby is a beauty. She is so wonderfully designed for us
unsteady bipeds. I kept discovering new
spots to wedge into comfortably while underway.
She is never silent – I miss the gentle squeak of her rudder at night
and the special swish and gurgle when she is settled into a broad reach.
Today, finally, work is done and I have
just packed a sea-bag for our forthcoming kayaking trip to Prince Rupert (long
underwear, pile pants and jacket, woolly hat, foul weather gear) and I am fondly
remembering swimming and snorkelling in bathwater-warm turquoise ocean. Hmm.
We will be paddling down the outside passage from Prince Rupert to
Klemtu and then taking the inside passage ferry back. I insisted to
Albert that we make a trip plan, with charts, marine radio, and a ferry
booking. Not show up and 'wing it' like a pair of ageing teenagers,
like we normally do. So, he made a plan. And now we must hustle and
bend to our paddles (20 nm per day) to catch the once weekly ferry in Klemtu on
July 13. Hmm. These wilderness
trips are, of course, wonderful and unique experiences in themselves but they
most definitely do not include the pleasures of Elsie’s daily sundowner rum
punches, warm breezes, and spending the day on deck in shorts and a T-shirt.
Would I go sailing again? Unequivocally yes, at the drop of a hat. Albert?
The mountain guide is still somewhat conflicted. I still jump into action if the water is left
running anywhere in the house………
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