Humbled at Anchor

The mustachioed sailor and the Australian boat seller at the french wine shop both said that it would be windy.  Pascal, the energetic, fast moving and fast speaking man who did our boat briefing said it would be windy. He said it would be “rolly” and that we needed to find a spot to tuck in and to remain there for 3 days. 3 Days?!?  We sailed  2 hours from Marigot - up and around to Orient bay on the island of St Martin.  I mean….how does a St-Martin resist going to St Martin?

Once anchored, we both swam the length of the 90 foot rode (twice) to put our minds at ease that our boat’s giant fork hooked into the grassy sea bed serving as our umbilical cord would confidently keep us from being thrown onto another boat or from running aground.  We were like a cork island - cozy but not entirely.

The boat, in its three day breakdancing frenzy with the wind and the swell made articulated curious noises - like a loud song that makes no sense.  Creak, grind, rub, slap, ring, ding, howl, scratch, flap, slam and splash.

The palm trees on shore leaning hard in the wind, their arms splayed out, in acceptance of the forceful gusts.  Judging none of it, they simply go with the flow looking like fuzzy starfish.  They stand tall and assume their tree-pose in a unified, polarizing reminder of what it’s like to be rooted.

This sailing life.  It’s beautiful and romantic as long as it’s understood that you will get tossed around. A lot. The boat will sometimes play pin ball with you and it doesn’t mind that you’re brushing your teeth or pouring boiling water or trying to sleep.

At anchor, it may feel heroic in 4 foot swell with 20 knots of wind to try to step or launch yourself into the dinghy being held to the boat by another umbilical cord.  It’ll feel like shooting yourself a moving target gyrating itself unpredictably, creating a challenge like something you might see on Ninja warrior.

Once safely in the dingy, you’ll motor to shore and as you approach the waves crashing onto the beach, you’ll surf that dinghy bad boy right onto the beach, and effortlessly step off as you would a gondola in Venice, feeling cool and thinking - “see how easy that was”?

You’ll enjoy a cappuccino or two and maybe some pistachio gelato but then, at some point, it’ll be time to leave the beach to return to the boat.  You’ll strongly bring the dinghy into the water and you’ll quickly realize that the dinghy claims no alliance. It will try to take you down as it begins its head butting contest with the crashing waves which have forever been equipped with more determination.  The dinghy might even pop a wheely in its attempt to claim alpha and you’ll try not to take it personally when it almost crushes you.

The next time, because you now know this, you’ll take a running start and heave yourself into the dinghy while your husband starts the motor all while also heaving himself into the dinghy like a sea lion out of the water and onto a pile-on while the ocean humbles you and your dinghy whee you’ll find yourself back on the beach where you started. As you take a short time out to breathlessly discuss the next move with your partner, the lawn chair beach goers, entertained by your display will continue to sip their plastic cups filled with vacation drinks which smell like coconut sunscreen.

Once you so do make it safely away from shore and officially headed back to the boat - like a wet dog, you’ll need to bale the many gallons of water you have taken on.  As you approach the transom of the sailboat, you’ll swallow slowly as you mentally prepare to make it off the bucking dinghy onto the swim platform coming up several feet and slamming down with the entire weight of the boat behind it. Ideally, the slamming won’t be happening onto the dinghy or onto your body.

Effectively, there seems to be an art to taking a dinghy onto shore when there’s “weather”.  But I’m noticing that even the well salted sailors refrain from going to shore all together when the swell and wind gods are in disapproval of the shore plan.

So you stay put.  At anchor.  Does a boat ever feel like a boat prison?  It is indeed an opportunity to relax but with so much rocking - reading and writing are out of the question but don’t worry, the heavy rolling movement will lend itself to you as a vestibular workout which will take your ya ya’s out.  It will wear you out and leave you remembering the romance in your mind 4 years ago when you first said “what if we learned how to sail?”.

But….then when get yourself to land again, much sooner than predicted you’ll marvel at your longing for that small floating patch of peace on the ocean - if it chooses to be gracious enough to host you.