Adios Mi Amigo
12 December 2013
December 12, 2013
Suddenly it was very quiet. After six weeks, 800 plus miles, and a lifetime of experiences, Don got into the taxi and was gone. It was time. He was anxious to get back to his family and friends and life in California. On the other hand, for Jay and me, we just stared at each other, speechless, knowing something just ended and something new was about to begin. But what?
Back at the boat we got to the business of tidying up. Don's two drawers were empty. His computer no longer sat on the table. I thought about the many moments we spent sitting across from each other, dueling computers, uploading photos and writing blogs. A ritual unfolded; we began to read our stories out loud once they were finished. It was interesting how, while mostly similar, there was definitely an individual take on the day's events.
Imagine living in a small space with three people for six weeks. After long days and sleepless nights there is no escape. Only a change of position. One would move from the helm, to the cockpit, to below, to the bow. The rhythm came easily, though, and soon we were taking turns trimming the sheets, manning the helm, cooking and washing dishes. We had some exhilarating moments, like when we were flying both spinnakers and we had some tense moments, like entering an unknown bay and anchoring under instruments only. Don never once complained. He fell into step; helping when necessary but then fading into the background when it became a husband and wife moment. That is an art many cannot do.
We had a lot of fun times but my favorite was watching Don see what Cadneza could do with 18 knots of wind on a broad reach. She is like a thoroughbred and he wouldn't let go of the helm, nor his smile.
So, yesterday, as Don left for the airport, it was a bittersweet moment. On the brighter side, we can spend some alone time together and I have two more drawers to fill. But we will miss you, Don. We already do.