|Sharon at the helm of "Spitfire" on a recent sail|
with Captains Greg Freitas and Barbara Emerson
My grandfather would dutifully retire to the porch after dinner each year to watch for Santa's arrival. My brother, sister, and I would wait until finally the message was delivered - "He's coming up the street! I see him headed this way!" In a flurry of feet versus stairs we headed for an upstairs bedroom to pretend we were asleep so that Santa wouldn't pass us by. As we laid in the dark in wonderment, we heard the faint ringing of old sleigh bells all around the house outside. We heard the pawing of tiny hooves on the farm house roof. Soon the pawing stopped, and the sleigh bells faded off into the distance. Back to the Christmas tree we would virtually fly, to see that Santa had indeed arrived.
|At the helm of "Spitfire" with Captain Greg|
As our love affair with sailing, the sea, and a life in the islands matures and grows - I'm hoping not to lose the magic of that either. It's a hard thing to explain really, unless you have experienced it yourself. Every time I have gone sailing in the Caribbean, I have felt the magic. The anticipation starts as soon as you take your shoes off and hop in the dinghy. The hum of the outboard, the salt spray, it's all a preamble to a much bigger show as you leave the soft white beach sands behind, and head out to your bigger adventure.
Bouncing along the waves you get closer and closer, until the boat is on your horizon. That same sense of excitement you had as a kid at Christmas fills deep within the pit of your stomach as the dinghy gently pulls up to the beam of the boat. To this day, I can remember each and every time I have boarded a new boat in this way. Climbing from the dinghy through the boarding gate is not just boarding - it's the boat and it's crew welcoming you aboard, allowing you into their world. All the people ashore look out and wonder, "what's it like to be those people out there?". You are suddenly one of "those people out there", and you are living this life in this moment.
|A "sign" in Cruz Bay|
This is the magic I don't want to lose. Like Christmas Eve on the farm, I never want to lose that special feeling whenever I head out, whenever I board a boat, whenever I raise that main and fall off on a tack. Maybe after more years of sailing I will take it for granted. I suppose if I do, I can read this again and remember.