Our first (and my last!) long passage

I thought I was over the motion. Ya know, the seasickness. I thought since I had had the Viking vision that night at the beginning of this journey, I would, again, become one with the rhythm of those crashing pounding waves. That, I would embrace the tempestuous sea in all her intense glory. But, no. Oh no. Not me. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I was down for the count soon after we began our crossing from Calabash Bay (Bahamas) to St. Thomas (US Virgin Islands). If you are a geography whiz, you would say to this new sailing family, wow, that's a long crossing (about 700 miles and a 7-day straight ocean crossing). Why not stop along the way? Hit the islands down to the tip of the Bahamas (such shallow waters!), then go to Turks and Caicos (a foooking headache getting a dog permit and such), then stop off at the Dominican Republic (they have absolutely no Covid protocols!), then Puerto Rico (always wanted to go plus my son has really gotten into Latin music - shout out to J Balvin!). Anyway, that is generally the path you would take to make your way over to the Caribbean - but not us. We wanted to make a b-line to St. Thomas since we wanted to take advantage of our ability to get the vaccine (thank you, national guard!) and spend more time in the Caribbean before hurricane season starts (June 1st). We thought if we stopped at all those places, we would run out of time, not to mention making sure we had enough leeway to get our second shot (3 weeks later) in time too.

Also, I needed to provision, like some good shit. Like fresh (actual fresh organic pleeeeeease) vegetables and fruit. Like organic meats and dairy (I'm crying now in memory of my old farm life) cause there ain't nothing, people. Nada. And, I have learned enough times (seriously, I get it, I'm good, and I embrace it) that I am a spoiled ass bitch, especially regarding the ability to access organic produce. (I want it now Daddy!). I heard San Juan (Puerto Rico) or St. Thomas was our best bet to load up. At any rate, initially my husband said it would only be a 4-day crossing to St. Thomas (no way), but thankfully I didn't believe him and was of the right of mind to agree to only do the straight crossing if we hired a crew guy, JC, to help out. He agreed. And so we did, and that was that.

And, boy oh boy, I was so grateful we did. Not only did we catch a huge mahi mahi along the way(!) but shortly into our first day of our super rocky uncomfortable crossing, I was bound to the couch (literally, I couldn't get up), our dog Basil was sick too (pictured below snuggled in-between the bean bags), I was constantly dozing off from the rocking, too queazy to walk around or sit up, or eat or drink, continually upping the frequency on my relief band (which seemed to stop working), popping sea sickness medication ( I was too late taking it for it to work or it doesn't work at all), basically was unable to do anything but nap and question my existence and also question how I was going to survive these next oh 6 days at sea (holy shit). Why aren't we stopping in Turks again (oh that's right, the dog permit) or the DR ( no Covid restrictions), and on and on. I would ever so gently lift my head to find my husband to ask him why (over and over and over again) we were in such a rush to get to St. Thomas, and that I think we should reconsider our long passage. (Spoiler alert: we ending up stopping in PR due to running low on fuel as we had to motor more than we hoped and needing some boat repairs. We never made it to San Juan though as we were on the other side of the island and it was too crowded and windy to get over yonder so my restocking on good provisions would have to wait for St. Thomas).

I think this is also a great time to mention that my husband is having the time of his life. Like literally. He absolutely loves to sail in the rocking sea (the motion doesn't affect him at all - the cunt!). He honestly has taken to this as a duck takes to water and has become a fantastic sailor in these past few months at sea. But that's his bag, baby (apologies, but Austin Powers has become my kid's favorite movie. I know it's super inappropriate, but they love it, and I am seasick, and I let them eat and do whatever the F they want cause I ain't getting up, so go ahead and judge me all you want). What I mean to say is that my husband is the type that loves to learn, challenge, and master things that he doesn't know. (Hence, sailing).

At night, when the waves were getting louder and the crashing crazier, I announced out loud to him that I will never do this again. (I hate this I hate this I hate this). Nothing I liked about it. Other than this beautiful boat doing what she was made to do - riding and crashing into the waves. Grateful for that, no doubt, but still, it's like I was stuck on a giant roller coaster at an amusement park (that I didn't want to even go to) and that I couldn't get off of. Or, I just watched a scary movie alone, and I try to go to sleep but can't escape all the fearful imagery in my head from the film. It's like that. White knuckle shit until the sun comes up.

It's something about the dark night out here where you hear it, but you don't see it. You wonder - is this crashing as bad as it sounds? Are we moments away from capsizing? Why didn't I make sure the emergency bag had food and water and clothes before we left? Is the boat gonna split in two? I haven't seen the kids in a while, did they fall overboard? did my husband? did JC? did the dog? AM I ALL ALONE?! I was just laying on the couch thinking of all these things, praying ( I am not religious at all) that it will be over soon. So many fears going through my mind. And then, just as I am about to peel my body off the couch and attempt to crawl on the floor to make sure everyone is still on board, my husband casually walks into the room whistling (the bitch is whistling but he is still alive!), and he expresses how much he loved this passage and how much he is learning and how much he loves being at sea and how these long passages are really what it's all about. (Well, good for him but he can suck it!).

I muster up my last bit of strength to respond with how opposite we are and how I can't wait to get to our destination and the rocking stop. I say (again) I am never doing this and that the kids and I will take an airplane and meet you at the next long passage and final destination. Did you know air travel is so much faster than a boat? Like if we wanted to go to Hawaii by sea, for example, from where we are, it would take at least a month. A straight month at sea (no fucking way), but I'd be there in 6 hours if I took an airplane. I mean, done and done. Yeah yeah, I know what you are thinking. I know. In my last post, I spoke about how much I loved it out here at sea (and I do), but I learned I only love it in calm waters and when we are stationary bitch!

P.S. We eventually made it to the US Virgin Islands alive and got our first shot!