Theme of this summer is RESTORATION. Spent the beginning of sacred July in the Pacific NorthWest reuniting with my sister Beverly and her family all over the Olympic peninsula, on ferries, at the beach (brrrr) and on the docks siting seals and touring wooden beauties. A return to my roots of traditional boats, values and time well spent with family.
But this summer began with the purchase of a boat that to some would not be considered traditional at all, rather a rocket into the future. Last year when I raced in the Duck Distance Cup on my Hobie 14, considered by many, a classic plastic vessel...(started the multihull revolution)...a fellow long time competitor made the statement that I just needed to get a faster boat with a longer water-line length. So over the past year I scoured the internet checking out what was out there and what could I allow myself to dream on. And low and behold I found the next 'revolutionary' boat....the NACRA. Since this boat came into existence in the early 80's, every other competition multihull has taken it's design from it's original razor sharp hulls and low profile tramp....the NACRA 5.2 revolution had begun...of course I missed it being into Hobies. But I did get a chance to sail one off Miami Beach on a spring break in college....I knew then, this was a completely different animal and literally a bottle-rocket!
This past Memorial Day weekend, my pup and I were headed down to the water access to have our usual breakfast and dip in the sound when we were tranfixed on a catamaran coming into view sitting out in a yard. We slowed down and initiated a conversation with the fella there when we noticed it was FOR SALE and a reasonable price as well. Before I knew it, we were spreading the sails out on the front yard and I was convincing myself this was the boat I had been searching for and this one had miraculously fell into my hands. So with visions of yet another restoration of a revolutionary boat, she came home with me and this summer has been more restoration than sailing~ ...and that's okay!

Restorations

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On a mid-winters evening, I'm considering the strength of my Second~Wind. Having just galantly passed the mid-century mark with the help of my two swabs, some russian vodka and an orange slice/cinnamon chaser. After an interesting break filled with laughter, forgiveness and reconnections, I am evermore committed to creating my dreams.
It is the nature of beauty and adventure that has held me hostage since my youth, and it is the place I want to reside the rest of my days. So be it. I resolve to spend my days sailing, discovering, challenging, creating, gunkholing, diving, kayaking, storytelling, laughing, conserving, admiring, illustrating and sharing the adventure with my treasure~chest of friends, the gems of my journey.
May we all stand in the wind together~

Cabin Fever Musing

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Take Cover it's gonna blow, may be the words I may need to express. Or maybe there are seasons when the boats are best left on shore to rest. This fall has been a difficult one with more physical ailments than I can count including a 5 day stint in the local hospital overlooking the southern Outer Banks. Interestingly it is ironic to me to say that the wind that sustains my life became the very thing that became difficult to come by. Breathing in the very life-force of a sailor became difficult and strained as I had caught the dreaded pneumonia. I firmly believe that some of us have to be laid up for repairs by the forces of nature in order to drive home the fact that we're not made of stainless steel. Yet, I liken this weary body to a beautifully restored wooden vessel, our maker has graciously provided internal systems to handle most invaders but without the hands of skilled craftsmen, she will still go down to her ruin.

It is this caring component that I wish to give thanks for today. While in the hospital, I had the pleasure of an attending nurse from England, whom had been a live-aboard sailor and had settled with her husband in Beaufort, NC. While her hands were busy about coaxing my small rolling veins with sticks and drips and antibiotics, securing a flow of oxygen to course through my straining lungs, her voice of calm determination quieted my soul. She and I became friends as we shared stories of our days under sail. It was a sisterhood we shared, a breath of fresh air she was in the often sterile environment of a hospital room. Her being at my bedside seemed more than a coincidence, as no family comes to visit, only concerned friends. The spirit of a sailor is realized in the hearts of other sailors whom understand the freedom of the sea and so she enlisted other sailing nurses to stop by and tell their stories.

One young nurse came by to share her family story of acquiring a fixer-upper 25' Helms from Oriental, NC, the place of many refugees awaiting rescue. Her family was from Swansboro, so they brought her down and commenced her restoration in the tiny Flying Bridge Marina, a place I knew well, having kept my 'le petite voyageur', a 23' San Juan there many seasons ago. Her telling of it, helped my mind turn to the joy of restoring beautiful swimmers and the camaraderie of crew a vessel requires to bring her back to life. I felt like that vessel, sorely neglected, battle scared and forgotten as the shifting crew of nurses swarmed my cradle~bed determined to poke and pinch every part of my hull. Having frustrated most of them with all my blown-out veins, they had to call in a critical care male nurse whom also failed on the first stick. Feeling remorse for the battle-scared bruises covering my arms, he said, let me try one more time. I turned my head and became quiet as he gently probed the needle into my forearm and found a flowing vein, in his relief, he asked, "are you alright?" and I replied, "the Lord and I presented that vein for you" and he agreed, "well it certainly wasn't me, that needle guided itself right in" and in unison we said, "AMEN".
Over the years, I can recall many times when vessels under my care and charge have presented with frustration. Seemingly impossible odds, if only we ask for that guiding assistance, the calm will overcome and the joy of accomplishment allowed to surface!
Witnessing the miracle of life in the hands of skilled craftsmen is truly a source of spirit restored, when two are gathered in his name...(there is love) amen!

Cabin Fever Musing

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Sacred July began with a return to the North Winds of the Great Lakes to sail with my father and family. He was delighted to have so many hands to help with some needed maintenance and repairs on the 'ARIES'. After 30 years of continuous service, the standing and running rigging is beginning to show wear and components are needing replaced. She's still a solid boat and comfortably handles a boatload of folks with stout grace. I was glad to see him enjoying her and not giving in to his overwhelming circumstances of care-taker for Mom. The 'ARIES' is his balance, he need not give her away until he can no longer sail~

The middle passage of Sacred July was filled with small boats on the Carolina coast from Beaufort to Bogue Inlet, either sailing the 'HEATHER JANE' sprits'l skiff or paddling my 'MAGIC' kayak through the marsh. The highlight of the summer is sailing long-distance rallies with the Traditional Small Craft Association fellows from the NC Maritime Museum fleet. I picked up a stand-by crew on the docks, and he and I sailed the 'HEATHER JANE' like we'd been sailing together for a while. I had forgotten what it's like to actually sail with another sailor, that was refreshing. Most often, I make a point to bring folks whom are either water-challenged or don't have access. Either way, it presents with a huge learning curve, but also the potential for an awesome introduction to sailing. Sailing with a large fleet of wooden boats, making beach stops along the way, swimming, lunching and generally messing about in boats, makes for a WONDERFULLY spent summer day!

The final days of Sacred July were spent once again returning to past sailing waters off of Clearwater, Florida, where we once lived aboard and had two babes. This was a special return to Pinellas County though, my brother had recently purchased his third big cat and this one was french, an Athena, Fontaine Pajot 38'. Bringing along plenty of crew, we sailed out Clearwater Pass into the Gulf of Mexico and up to Honeymoon Island and anchored for the night off Dunedin causeway, a place where we spent many days windsurfing and sailing in my early married life. Of course, Florida is VERY HOT in July, so we spent most of the time in the water and I volunteered for 'grill master' off the port stern. She felt very big after all these years sailing small boats and yet our live aboard trimaran was wider and longer. She is a beautiful boat and I'm sure my brother will have many adventures aboard her. And he does have an available Gemini 105MC just a waiting in the wings~

2010's Sacred July was one of my personal favorites because of the wonderful variety of sailing craft I had access to. But the added joy of sharing it with my family and friends, makes the voyaging all the better~
bon voyage Sacred July~

small boat adventures

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First sailing weekend coincided with my release from school and boy did I need a celebratory release this year! As with all things during the summer respite, I choose to take my time and consciously awaken to the blessings of the day! Having packed three bags: clothes, food and gear....we were on our way up to the northern Outer Banks. Hobie kitty and I pulled into Nor'Banks Sailing Center pretty late, but excited to see other folks already camping and a yard full of catamarans there on the waterfront~
Saturday morning, the sailors were up and busy about gearing up for the days challenge...a leMans start from Duck up to the Currituck Lighthouse near Whalebone and Corolla...supposedly a (approx) 30 mile distance through the seabed grass and marsh islands. The wind was coming from the south, running north with a 'wing n' wing' most of the way, the other boats chose to downwind tack the distance. But being quite familiar with sailing between marsh islands on tidal creeks, I was able to make some ground against the much bigger, hotter, faster cats...I was clearly staying ahead of all the Getaway cats and the two-handed Hobie 16's, which put me in the middle of the pack. One Hobie 16 actually seeing my advantage, came and sailed neck n' neck for a while. It was a LONG downwind run, but I kept thinking how even longer it would be upon rounding the mark and having to sail back upwind into a headwind and rolling sound. Waving at the lighthouse, we rounded the mark and started needling our way back, I did not realize how long we had sailed and how tired I was....the school year and night drive was catching up with me and the exhaustion set in as the wind started to pick up over 20-25 and the wave action was getting bigger. I noticed Hobie kitty was taking it hard and burying her hull in the 4 foot crests and thinking she may be taking on water. So I sailed into a small beach along shore to check and thankfully heard no water inside her hulls, since I was already there, I decided to take a short power-nap....yeah, crazy...in the middle of a race....but I needed something to get me through the rest of the battle windward.
By the time I awoke, the last two boats were sailing by my position, so I had a quick drink and an apple and headed out. The rest of the race was literally a battle between tacks in high wind and high waves with short frequency causing Hobie Kitty to fly off the top of one wave and bury like a submarine into the next.....and that was the scenario for miles, with an occasional rudder kick-up due to either sea grass beds or sandbars...not to mention the beautiful blue sky & sun blazing down on my already burnt face. What kept me going was the challenge of keeping up with the other two boats. As I kept my eye on the big BLUE water tower I noticed upon leaving the beach, it became apparent that I had not gotten a better look at the Sailing Center beach before I left, it was very difficult to identify in these conditions. I spied a blue building, and trusting my intuition, that must be it, I took my last tack towards the outer bank and after riding the bucking bronco wild ride, for several hours, I had chosen correctly. Upon crossing the line, quite a few sailors had gathered on the pier and cheered as I was acknowledged with the sound of the gun~
All the veterans were surprised Hobie Kitty and I had gone the full distance, had even taken a nap, kept hard-on in the building conditions and ALAS, I didn't finish last. It was nice to hear the fellow sailor behind me in amazement as to our pointing ability and recap of the tacking battle upwind.
My only disappointment was that I decided to not sail the second day, it was a sleigh ride, beam reach, down to the bridge and back (6 miles) with winds in the 25-30 range...all the single-handers regrouped and doubled up on each others boats. I was satisfied with Hobie Kitty's performance, with the making of new/old friends and reconnecting with a spirit of competition, endurance and the LOVE OF SAILING~

small boat adventures

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I knew this day would come, and that didn't make it any easier. Upon my weekly conversation with my elderly father, whom is saddled with caretaker of my mom's alzheimers, we spoke of inevitable plans of passing down the Wallace family treasure~ their beloved Bayfield 32C "Aries".
My father and mother's love of the water started a family legacy of spending the summers as camp counselor's and water safety instructors...so all of us 5 kids were ducklings. With a growing family, they knew a canoe would just not be big enough for their 'water dreams' and 5 swabs weighing the boat down. So they decided to utilize their own natural resources and bought their first small sailboat. Over the years, as most sailors do, the boats got bigger and the knowledge gained grew until Dad was using his skills for profit on other people's boats and reaping the financial benefit in support of a sailing addiction. As the wooden sailing vessels got bigger, the voyages got longer and the kids began moving on. Being the youngest of the 5, I witnessed a lifetime of sailing adventures before I was 18, so it only logical that I follow in my father's footsteps and began a professional sailing instructor career as well. As my own life began taking off, my parents knew their retirement from 37 years in the public school/university system as a teacher/professor/coach and 10 years as an LPN at Kaiser Hospital was eminent. They sold their John Alden, Malabar Jr. 32' marconi rig sloop built of oak, teak and mahogany, the 'VIKING' and had their first and only fiberglas boat built in Canada.

small boat adventures

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