Leg 1...
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| Leaving Halifax on Revelation |
I've chosen to crew on a boat crossing the North Atlantic this summer.The captain, Drew, a cardiac surgeon and fighter pilot, is also a real astronaut who has actually been to space. His wife, Lili, very friendly. The other new crew, supposed to arrive the same time as me, sent a text message saying she'd changed her mind. Lili is leaving after the next stop and I hope it won't be just Drew and I crossing the North Atlantic on our own, not because I don't trust him to keep us safe but because... well a couple can sail a boat perfectly adequately by themselves but three non-family members is a better fit, in my experience, than just two on a boat.
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| Lili and Drew |
The first few days out of Halifax, heading NE along the coast of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton and then out across the Gulf of St Lawrence towards Newfoundland are heavenly. The wind is steady 15-20 knots right behind us so we fly along at 7 knots wing on wing with sea birds skimming the waves and dolphins jumping beside us. Drew and Lili are interesting, knowledgeable, and welcoming. Their boat is a beauty, well rigged outside and finished in gleaming mahogany inside. Drew has even given me some new drug that left me not even the least bit sea sick at all! Here, sharing meals and stories with them when we're all up, lulled to sleep with the rocking motion of the boat when I'm off duty, or standing watch on my own beneath the sky as they nap, I am at peace. I find that I've picked up enough over the years to be useful; if Drew asks me, for example, to release the topping lift or man the lazy sheet I know what he means and how to do it efficiently. It is, without doubt, despite my job, my kids, and the new fling I left behind, where I want to be. When I was at Suzanne's and then Lucy's cottages just a week ago the peace and beauty of their little bits of paradise tugged at my heart and I questioned, both times, why I felt the need to leave, given that I already live in the loveliest part of the world. But... here, here with sky above and open ocean all around, it is also beautiful. So beautiful. And, for a highly functioning autistic person such as myself, the absence of people and the extended periods of sociably acceptable solitude are soothing and comfortable. It is not, I get that, everyone's cup of tea. But for me, here, alone on deck in the pre-dawn darkness with nothing but wind and waves for hundreds of miles in all directions, this is where God whispers to me, almost loudly enough that I can hear Him.
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| Looking up the mast as we fly wing on wing. |
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| A short stop over in St Pierre et Miquelon. |
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| Kelp caught on the anchor. |
I love our shifts on this leg. Lili does the evening, Drew, the night, and me I get up at 3 am to take over. We are far enough north that by 3 am there is already, two hours before sunrise, the faintest hint of lightness in the east, if not heralding in the new day, promising at least that it will come. Each day is different. Two days ago I woke to total blackness, heavy rain, and heavier fog. As the fog ever so slowly lifted and lightened and our visibility increased from zero to thirty metres the world went from dark steel grey to blue grey to silver grey. This morning it was clearer with a low bank of clouds to the east and the Cape Race lighthouse and hills of Newfoundland to the north. The sky to the west was incredible with blended pastel bands of mauve, pink, blue, and purple. I decided not to try and capture it on film, just to be in the moment and enjoy the spectacular show, but eventually, as the sun was appearing over the clouds and water turned to liquid gold I could no longer resist and took out my camera to try and capture it.
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| Foggy morning motor. |
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| Liquid gold. |
Drew and Lili are amazingly accomplished people and it is an honour and a privilege to be so welcomed on their boat. Lili, especially, is the sort of person I'd love to be friends with (like, you know, in another life, where I was normal) but though I enjoy their company and value all they are sharing with me, it is the early mornings, alone on deck with the world flung out in all directions, the sea birds scattering before the boat, the pods of whales swimming by to investigate, and the sun rising to greet me and me alone, that are my favourite times of day.
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| Morning visit. |
