I love to write, but sometimes I just have so much in my head that wants to get out I just don’t know where to begin. I’m gently rocking back and forth right now after having a cocktail and I’m thinking this is going to be one of those “loose lips blogs”. I’m rocking because I’m on a boat.. Maybe rocking a little from the cocktail too. Not always a good combination. It’s mind boggling that I have never gotten sea sick. Maybe I should just stop now and come back later. Oh well, it seems like I”m on a roll, I might as well just roll with it as long as I’m still feeling coherent. There is always that delete button. Once that’s hit you will never even know you spent two hours on something that you didn’t feel was worthy of reading. Having no actual “paper” trail does help to lessen the pain of creating something you dislike and wasted hours creating. You know, out of sight out of mind..so they say.
So anyway, me and a boat. This is a subject that I myself find very foreign. If you knew the magnitude of fear I have of the ocean you would be saying, “girl what the hell are you thinking?” You actually go on a boat and you can’t swim? Pretty insane right?I can barely tread water and I can’t even float! I don’t know what the hell I am thinking. This would be our tenth or eleventh season owning a boat. I’m not even sure how I was convinced to go along with this recreational activity. I think it was that I refused to sign the note and not be responsible for any of its financing. I remember saying I didn’t want to know how much it cost or the cost of any of the ongoing maintenance. I figured this was not my idea or my passion. If I’m going to be talked into risking my life for fun, the less I knew about this endeavor the better. Maybe I would eventually learn to love it or at least like it. One could only hope.
Growing up in Rhode Island, ten minutes from the ocean you would think boating would have great appeal. The fact of the matter is my parents did not care for the beach. We never went to the ocean as my mother detested the sand and was worried we would track it into the house (she was very OCD) and dad was always working. Such childhood deprivation. So, the closest I got to water was my next door neighbor’s in ground pool and an occasional outing with my other next door neighbor who would take me fishing. The pool was my one opportunity to actually learn how to swim. It started off great but for some reason, which I attribute to my teenage years I didn’t spend quite enough time in the pool. I never got to be an accomplished swimmer and never got over my fear of the water, thus the dog paddle is the extent of my expertise. I am also claustrophobic which doesn’t lend to being under the water so that in itself was a major deterrent.
So how in god’s name do I go out on a boat? And so frequently? My friends, that is the question we are exploring here. I guess I am just absolutely crazy and I have such great trust that I am not going to end up like Natalie Wood. It can’t be total trust as I have already informed my kids if I go missing you make sure your father is brought into the police station. I’m sure I was pushed over board. And he is not going to get away with it! (sorry honey I’m covering all my bases)
Honestly, I fear me losing my footing and falling over board more than my adoring husband pushing me. My fear has gotten greater recently as I am now officially his first mate. Not sure what he is thinking either..having a first mate that is so inept and unable to save herself. Before he lost his previous first mate(our son) to a life of his own, I would just get to sit back and try to enjoy the ride. The ride sometimes being totally enjoyable, flat and smooth without any incident. Other times, being few and far between (but more than enough) as my husband is a fairly cautious captain, not so!. White caps, 8 foot seas with me getting catapulted around like a rag doll, trying to hold on for dear life and praying to God I get to set my little feet on land again is always in the forefront of my mind. Try holding on to yourself and a dog in those conditions, not in the least fun at all.
Well, I was obviously doing more than just sitting back while struggling to embrace this new experience. Now, I know you are all thinking, as I have heard this so many times, how lucky I am to be able to have this glamorous life style (HAHA)…Well that ladies is all a matter of perspective. I compare boating to camping on the water. As I said, my son may have been the first mate but I was and still am, the “first maid”.. Remember, you have to pack up, transport the stuff, unload it, put it away, take it off upon your return, transport it back and put it all away again. Pete and repeat…. Not to mention, clean the boat inside. Grant it, it is like a tiny apartment but I don’t remember cleaning anything on a “destination” vacation, do you?
Many of my friends like to compare our boat to a “yacht” which makes me roll over with laughter.🤣 Now, is it a dinghy? NO! But it is far from a yacht. Per my research, boating is a popular middle class recreational activity. I will say comparatively speaking, according to statistics you might consider our boat, (44 feet) a yacht as the average boat for middle class boat owners is 26 feet or less. So I guess that is one factor that made me feel somewhat safe. In my mind the bigger the boat the less likely it is to sink. Now whether that is true or not, I really do not have to know. But as far as it being a “yacht”, I think not. To me a “yacht” has a CREW and I am now the CREW! 1st mate, cook, and maid, definitely not a yacht. This crew member does not have separate quarters either.
I’m pretty adept at cleaning and I can cook. I do have to admit, the captain does take on that responsibility most of the time. I would like to help but the galley is just not big enough for the two of us. I know I’m tiny but the Captain needs his space. I’ll take clean up duty, He actually belongs to a Facebook group called “cooking on a boat”.. I guess I can’t complain too much. From some of the group’s pictures he’s shown me, I’m eating at a five star restaurant.
I’m slowly getting used to the 1st mate responsibilities. I’m learning the boating lingo. Port side, stern, cleat, fender, line..ahoy…I will tell you every time we have to dock the boat or leave for a journey my anxiety skyrockets. Walking on a slippery deck attaching lines and bringing in fenders in a timely fashion is stressful. I am still struggling with knots and securing lines after two seasons of taking on my new appointment. I’m going to have to find some way to get better at this. I obviously am not getting enough practice. I am always waiting for me to lose my footing and end up falling over board, hitting my head on the side of the boat and drowning before my husband notices I’m missing. I honestly do not know how I convince myself to continue with this responsibility. And why in the world don’t I wear the life jacket he bought me? And why doesn’t he demand I wear it? A little suspicious don’t you think? Writing this is making me realize I am tempting fate. When we leave tomorrow I WILL be wearing my life jacket. This really is a demonstration of love and commitment on my part, right?
I think I have transferred my boat anxiety to my dog also. Oliver seems to love the boat. He runs down the dock like he’s on a mission and goes straight to our boat all on his own. But the minute the engines start up he is one nervous Nellie. He must secretly know I could not save myself let alone save him. And the chances of the Captain saving him are questionable. I’ve tried everything from thunder buddy doggy suits to xanax. Poor Ollie… he is definitely my dog as he gets on the boat with what appears to be minimal reservations. I guess he feels the same way as I do, better to suck it up or be left behind. Or he has an incredibly short memory. I’m betting on the latter.
The funny thing is that although I am afraid of the ocean I also love it. You see, the ocean evokes fond memories for me as a young adult. Going to college not even fifteen minutes from the ocean is when I got my opportunity to go to the beach! I spent many weekends on the beach with some of my favorite college friends, FOWLS. (Freshman Orientation workshop leaders). This is where listening to the ocean waves roll in would lull me to sleep and emanate bliss. The sound and the beauty of the ocean was and is so welcoming. It’s hard to believe something so beautiful can also be responsible for so much of my anxiety. It is quite an enigma to me.
I do have to confess, as much as I fear getting stuck in bad weather, me falling overboard or something happening to my husband leaving me alone and clueless, there is a part of boating that I have learned to love. Being up top cruising along in the sunshine, with the wind blowing through your hair is a most invigorating feeling. Sitting under the stars watching the water glisten under the moonlight is peaceful and soothing. The continuous hum of the engines soporific. And the gentle swaying of the boat at bedtime rocking you to a welcomed slumber.
Going out of ones comfort zone is a challenge for most of us. I’ve always believed that as fearful as it is to proceed with that decision it will ultimately provide you with growth and insight. Every time I get on the boat it is a new experience and adventure. I guess I have come to terms with leaving it up to fate. I will not live in a sheltered world, I will challenge myself and learn new things about myself and the places this “yacht” affords me to explore. I will sum it up with this quote “sometimes you just have to go with the waves”.
