Delfina plowed through fog on the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of New Jersey on Tuesday, May 26, the final sail of our second voyage to the Bahamas. There were fishing boats darting in and out of the inlets along the way, and beeping radar warned us of their imminent approach. Delfina's foghorn wasn't sounding...another item for the long list of repairs.

As Delfina rounded Sandy Hook and entered the channel into the Raritan Bay, the fog lifted, and two whales sprayed their greetings, surfacing to welcome us home. It was a grand gesture and we were elated. We arrived in time to watch the sunset from our mooring in Keyport Harbor. We were home.

We had come through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal on Monday, and traversed the Delaware Bay in favorable current; the speed and fair weather encouraged us to continue past our planned anchorage at Reedy Point, and instead sail all the way to the Coast Guard anchorage at Cape May Harbor. We arrived just before midnight. It had been a big push; the wind blew steadily our of the North in excess of 20 knots. The air was cold and thick with moisture as we looked for a place to anchor among a dozen boats. Once the anchor was set we slept soundly.

The wind, which had been forecast to shift to the Southeast, hadn't changed direction by morning. Nevertheless, we slogged through Northeast winds for the 40 miles to Atlantic City. At this point, there was no stopping us; we just wanted to make our way home. There was only one other sailboat at anchor near the bridge outside the Absecon Channel. It was eery to see the dark Atlantic City skyline, normally blazing with electric lights. People fished along the breakwater and listened to hip-hop in the parking lot along the shore,celebrating Memorial Day in these disconcerting times.

Ever since coming back to the United States, I have felt confused and discouraged by the pervasive lack of regard for social distancing precautions, and the politicization of the Covid-19 health crisis. We felt safer in the Bahamas, where compliance with strict curfew and lockdown was the norm. Coming home, we will have to find our own sense of security on land.

I have been reflecting on why I am drawn to this sailing life. One reason is certainly its aesthetic beauty: the endlessing shifting patterns of sea and sky; watching the phases of the moon and feeling its effect on the tides; the thrill of being propelled by wind. The experience is visceral. I am an integral part of nature, and subject to its raw power. I feel closer to Spirit when I am out on the ocean, lifted by waves, watching them shimmer in starlight and sunlight. There is a paradox--a sense of safety along with the terrible knowledge that the ocean can be a truly dangerous place. There is no other place that confirms how much I belong to this great mysterious earth in which nothing is fixed and everything is in motion. The ocean is the essence of impermanence.