Caught up in Neptune’s Wave

Dawn the color of gunshot on the last day of Maggie B’s circumnavigation. Having carried her crew safely around the world for 38,400+ miles, she’s sailing beautifully this morning, moving at nine knots close hauled into a frigid 20 knot nor’easter, about 30 miles south of Lunenburg. A very powerful low off of Cape Cod is hoovering up all the air in the North Atlantic, and this wind propelling us forward is in a hurry to join it’s buddies for the party. By tonight she’ll be a gale with winds near 40 and seas reflecting the turbulence above, but for now we knife our way northward on long low swells that pass under the boat with the soft whisper of a farewell kiss. It should be a regular ole hootenanny in Lunenburg upon our arrival. One of the locals, I’m told, is a blackpowder enthusiast who needs little prodding to lug out his wares and shoot off a few fireworks, or even a celebratory cannon or two if the fancy strikes him. A party at some drinking establishment of questionable repute has been arranged, and all I have to do is wrangle this cold i’ve been battling for the past 3 days into submission.

It’s been an interesting leg up from Bermuda, in the sense of the giddiness level of the crew feeling the journey drawing to a close. Mixed emotions are par for the course, and it seems to be the sailor’s unique dilemma of anticipating the return home, and all the comforts that word carries with it, with the notion in the back of his mind that soon he’ll be setting out again for whatever is just beyond the horizon. I often wonder what propelled the old time sailors and whalers to return again and again to such a capricious (and in general poorly paid) occupation, where the food was bad, living conditions sometimes even worse, and all under the absolute rule of a captain on whose whims or dictatorial pronouncements the boat proceeded (not that i’ve had any personal experiences like that). All I can offer is that the sea is it’s own reward, no less true for being trite and wishy-washy. Nothing else can hypnotize and raise the adrenaline at the same time, or allow thoughts to float freely for hours on end, like dust particles in a slant of sunlight.

And I have been caught up in Neptune’s web (or wave, as it were). A scant 3 weeks after landing in Lunenburg, and most likely a whirlwind tour of family and friends back in the states, I will be dipping my toes once again into the icy waters of the North Atlantic for my first ocean crossing on board a 57′ ketch named Elemiah, bound for a summer season in the Mediterranean. Also built by Covey Island (as is the Maggie B) and recently bought by Rosemary and Ian Bointon from England, she will be hopping along the coasts of Spain France and Italy, with the ultimate destination being Croatia. It’s been my dream to sail through the maritime heart of western civilization, and to find a boat departing my very own continent to do exactly that is simply a delicious bonus to this waking dream.

But first, eyes out for Nova Scotia!

We had snow last night mixed with our rain… Oh, Canada…

Cheers!

Oh, and happy Mother’s day to all you mamas, new and old, and a special congratulations to Miranda. Flaming red-headed twins! Can’t wait to see them.