Casting Off

We are off on another adventure. This time though, we’re leaving for an entire year. Yes, an ENTIRE YEAR!

This plan has been in the making since the first year I joined Rick on his annual summer sail to Maine, in 2011. Back then, Rick had a thirty foot Alberg sloop which was a good ocean-going boat, perfect for single handing, but honestly, a bit cramped for two people living aboard. I loved that first summer so much that we both envisioned future summers together on a bigger boat that could also house us during Rick’s next sabbatical year. One bigger boat, loads of other equipment and much joint fantasizing later, that year has finally arrived!

Two weeks ago - OMG!

Now - that's more like it!

Others have done this before; it’s not that revolutionary an idea to take a leave from your life and sail off into the sunset. And the political climate and situation being what it is, possibly more understandable right now, even to non-sailors. But we’re totally cheating. Many sailing couples who do this save up money, sell their houses, quit their jobs and leave everything behind at the dock. And many take their kids with them. We, on the other hand, are keeping our house, still have jobs to return to, and know this whole exercise to be limited to one calendar year. Even so, disentangling oneself from life onshore has turned out to be much more difficult than we ever imagined.

Oiling the teak

General putzing

Getting the boat ready was of course the most obvious necessity in the preparations department. You would think that after six years of repairs and improvements the boat would be in perfect condition. Mais, non, ma Cherie! Beyond the usual stuff like new bottom paint and canvas repair, Rick was discouraged to find a non-working bilge pump along with a ruptured water pipe, both in need of repair before even putting the boat in the water. Envisioning a warm spring weekend of sailing, Rick’s sister and brother-in-law Barb and Jeff flew down from Maine. Did we go sailing? Not exactly. We put them to work waxing and buffing the hull. Then we took the boat out to put the sails on and discovered that Rick had misplaced the sheets (ropes that attach to the sails). Doh! Now where are those things anyway? We ended up motoring around and having a blast regardless, but no sailing occurred.

Barb and Jeff, a.k.a. swabbies

Other things, tasks of epic procrastination, needed to be taken care of before we could take off. For instance, I had an old, used pop-up camper that I bought in my pre-Rick days, and had taken on numerous camping trips with my son Dewey when he was little. I had been keeping it stored in a shed at Jon Carney’s farm. Jon is my concertmaster at the BSO, and he and his now ex-wife Ruthie were gracious enough to let me keep it there. But they’re now selling the farm, and that non-working, eye sore of a camper must be removed. So a week before our planned departure date, Rick and I headed out to pick up “Coleman” – the nickname it was given by Dewey those many years ago. After successfully battling with the thicket of poison ivy covering the thing (well, perhaps not quite so successfully…), and a reluctant, rusty trailer hitch, we could be spotted pulling a dirt covered pop-up with seriously outdated registration plates from 2007 (shhhh!) around the Baltimore beltway, headed for the dump. Having never seen the true workings of a landfill before, we were unprepared for the emotional trauma of seeing Coleman, within seconds of dropping him off, unceremoniously ripped apart by some kind of giant contraption!

 

Poor Coleman!

What about our cars? Both of them are ancient, and we’ve been keeping them on life support in anticipation of abandoning them just before leaving on the boat. We ended up leaving my car at the house, and left Rick’s at the marina where we donated it to WYPR, our local NPR station. It was tough for Rick to leave his beloved “Whizzer” as he had come to call it, but at least he didn’t have to witness its demolition like I did with Coleman!

Rick says goodbye to the Whizzer at Young's Boatyard

Between getting the house cleaned out and ready to be vacated, and getting the boat cleaned out and ready for us to live in, we were predictably behind schedule. Thankfully our good friends, Marguerite and Paul offered to put us up in their guest room while we made the transition. Paul is quite outspoken about his dislike for the boat – not because he hates boats per se, but because this particular one takes us away from them and our regular movie nights and dinners together. He loves to call it our “STOOOOpid boat!” but he is an avid follower of this blog so he can keep tabs on us.

After all of this planning and toiling, the time for leaving finally arrives. You’d think we’d be filled with joy, reveling in the sense of freedom having cut loose of all our ties to land! But I comment to Rick that there is a noticeable pit in my stomach. He responds with the same. When all is said and done, we are not just leaving our material things behind, we are leaving friends, family, security and familiarity.

Tell me again, why are we doing this?