Step 6: Remember the magic

Sharon at the helm of "Spitfire" on a recent sail
with Captains Greg Freitas and Barbara Emerson

Some of the fondest memories I have of growing up on the northern side of the Adirondack park in New York, are of Christmas Eve on my grandparents' farm.  There's definitely something to be said for the vision of their fields covered in snow, the smell of fresh balsam flooding the living room air, and a seemingly endless supply of culinary goodies that came around only that time of year.  Christmas on the farm was a very special day, one that built with the anticipation of the jolly old elf himself guided by his flying reindeer.

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

Between you and I - this whole spectacle could have been simulated with snow balls thrown on the roof, and an old set of bells long retired from horse teams that used to haul maple sap buckets from the woods.  It could have been the work of my aunt and uncle flinging snowballs and running around the house like a pair of nuts.  It could have been - but I am sure it wasn't.  I don't want to forget the magic.

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

The diesel comes to life, the mooring line is released.  Guiding your vessel back and away you turn her into the wind and raise the main.  Your bird has spread her wings and is waiting impatiently to glide.  The magic happens.  With a simple turn of the wheel you fall off the wind, fill the sail - and there it is.  Her big hull heels over and she accelerates without any other sound besides the lap of water against her hull.  She parts the crystal blue waters in front of her bow.  She's taking you with her now, riding the wind and letting you call the shots.

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.

Kenny Chesney "Magic"

"I believe there's magic here in these sails

In the wake of these old pirate trails

That cut through the water and the atmosphere

I believe there is magic here

It's in buried treasure under the sea

In all the music that drifts out on the street

It's in the barflies drinking their beer

I believe there's magic here

This crazy rock has got a lot

Of romance and sex appeal

It's lazy days with Hemingway

And I gotta say that it captures me still

'Cause I believe there's magic in those beach side dives

Under the moon as it's changing the tides

Friends, they go away, then they reappear

I believe there is magic here

This crazy rock has got a lot

Of romance and sex appeal

It's lazy days with Hemingway

And I gotta say that it captures me still

Friends, they go away, then they reappear

I believe there's magic

A whole lotta magic

I believe there's magic here

I believe there's magic

A whole lotta magic

I believe there's magic here