I
spend crazy days trying to fill quotas and meet dead-
lines. I live in a big city with thousands of people within a few miles of me. I look out my back window and I can see my neighbors looking back at me—we oſten wave as I pull the drapes. There are few places for me to hide from life in this crazy world, but I do have one: I have a sailboat. By noon, with the pos-
sibility of an evening sail, I catch myself watching flags and looking for the rustle of tree leaves—hoping for signs of a gentle wind. I look for hints of the aſternoon sea breeze. I check the cloud formations to predict the coming of a front or changing weather. I reflect on the phase of the moon to try and guess the height of the tide and direction of the currents I might encounter. On days when work ends at a decent hour, when the second
job does not require my attention, when there are no other ma- jor demands on my time—things I cannot put off until tomor- row—I will slip down to the waterfront to visit my sailboat. In the protection of my sheltered cove I’ll raise the sails at
the dock and quietly ghost out to open water. As I slowly clear the wind shadows and turbulence created by the city, I close my eyes and turn to feel the first hints of the aſternoon breeze on my face. I feel the tug at the sheets, the first slight heel of the boat and hear the trickle of water past my bow. I start to feel the day flow off my shoulders, time is no longer of any consequence, the deadlines are soon forgotten. Tere is only the boat, the wind and the waves. With a little room to maneuver I will make last adjustments
to the sails. I take a second to coil and belay my halyards. I neaten the cockpit, just in case. I survey my deck. Satisfied, I wedge myself into my corner, brace my feet in anticipation and sheet the sails home. There is nothing more satisfying than feeling my sailboat settle onto her course, to feel her lurch through and over that first wave, to push back against her heel, to feel the tug on the tiller and feel her find her balance in the evening breeze. Aſter a few deep cleansing breaths of sea air, I decide how
I might want to spend my next few hours. I might sail across the sound to the nearby barrier islands if the tide is high. I like to coast slowly downwind behind the island, getting as close
SMALL CRAFT ADVISOR
I have a Sailboat Story by Jeff Plentovich Illustration Joseph Buchanan
as I dare, to see what kinds of fish might stir, to see if I can spot a spoonbill wading near shore or a juvenile black tip finning in the shallows near the mangroves. If the wind is heavy I might just race back and forth across the bay tak- ing spray from the white-capped waves into my smiling-mania- cal-face as I challenge the ancients at the top of my lungs to give me more wind. On light-wind days I might
cross paths with the local pod of dolphins who oſten seem to take interest in my quiet sailboat. I have grown to know several by their unique markings. I often talk to them and inquire of their
travels. Rarely do they answer but I like to think that as they swim along with my sailboat, sometimes turning on their side as if to greet me, that they know we are kindred spirits.
If the wind is good I might beat through the pass, out into
blue water. Once offshore, free of land, feeling the strength of the swell liſting my bow, feeling the unobstructed wind which has crossed miles of empty ocean to greet me, I will set course to a far horizon, dreaming that one day I won’t have to turn back. As dusk approaches I settle in, relaxing back in my snug corner
to watch the fantastic display about to be painted just for my pleasure. Some days the skies are dusted with soſt pastels, some days vibrant embers of orange. On clear cold days I might see endless shades of evolving blues with a simple flash of emerald green as the sun begins its journey to the other side. With the day’s final passing I’ll offer Mother Nature a quiet nod in ap- preciation for allowing me to share such a spectacular moment. As darkness takes over I’ll occasionally linger, contemplating
the sky, the stars, the moon. Te absolute vastness of the uni- verse as seen from a small boat on an empty ocean is a sight to behold—one that oſten leaves me in awe, quietly staring into the twinkling lights of a million years past. With the coming of the stars I’ll make the turn, back to the
world that I had forgotten for those few hours. It’s usually at this point I muse the good fortune of having my sailboat, when just a few hours earlier I was deep into the mad daily rush of traffic jams, cell phones and emails. With the simple act of slipping a few lines and raising a sail I was able, if just for a few hours, to transport my soul to another place, another time, another world where there is only balance, beauty, harmony. For those few hours it was a world to which I belong and am welcome in, because, I have a sailboat. •SCA•
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