We have passed many lighthouses on our journey and I have taken pictures of most of them. But somehow the photos never do justice to the beauty and grandeur of these majestic structures. Built to last many lifetimes, they keep sailors safe by warning of dangerous shoals and cliffs or marking the entrance to a safe harbor. There is something comforting in seeing a stalwart lighthouse, perched on the side of cliff and knowing thousands of sailors before me have passed safely this way.

I’ve never been happier to see a beacon than the Spring Point Ledge Light House guiding us into Spring Point Marina. If you read Kurt’s post, you know we ended up there after a losing battle with winds and waves on the Gulf of Maine, diverting us away from our intended destination of Cape Cod. As we came into the unfamiliar South Portland Harbor after midnight we used lighted navigation aids to pick our way to the marina. This lighthouse marked our last turn into the serene waters where we would dock for the night. The next morning would dawn beautiful and sunny in a bustling marina with a great restaurant and great places for dog walks.

After hearing about our adventure, several people have asked me what I was thinking during this whole thing. First of all, I was disappointed because I wanted to meet my college roommate Barb in Cape Cod. We had already pushed our reunion back several days and I didn’t want to miss seeing her. I was also pretty bummed out that after five and half months of living aboard, NOW I was seasick. Ugh! But these disappointments were soon replaced with concern for our safety.

On my mid-morning watch the second day we were making very little progress and kept watching our chart plotter as the projected time for our arrival put us another night out on the water. Even more distressing was crashing headlong into the waves. Water was washing over the deck all the way up to the dodger. Sometimes when we hit a wave, we slowed to almost a stop. I imagined the horror stories I had heard about “pitch poling” which is when the bow of the boat digs in and the back of the boat comes over the top, flipping the boat. When I shared my concerns with Kurt as he come on watch we both decided we would have to turn and go with the wind and waves, wherever that might take us.

Thankfully in addition to our electronic charts, we have an abundance of spiral bound cruising guides. I located the one we needed and was able to map out a new destination for us. The going was still rough, but at least we were now moving…Fast…To a destination that we knew we would be able enter easily at night. We covered 85 miles in 11 hours.

But first we had to accomplish the deck work that needed to be done before we could shift our sails. As I clipped my tether to the jack line and prepared to go onto the deck, I only thought two things. First, thanks to my Mom, Gwyneth Pyle for making those jack lines for us. I’m sure she never imagined as she was making them how important they would be for our safety. If the worst happened and I was swept off the boat, I would not be lost and could easily be pulled back on board. The second thing I thought was that I was glad my family couldn’t see me doing this as it would worry them to death. And once I stepped onto the deck, my only thought was the task at hand. I took just a minute in the cockpit after coming back in to collect myself before going out on the low side. I had noticed earlier how the water rushed along the low rail and how the ocean was only inches beyond that. I saw the look of concern in Kurt’s eyes as I got ready to step out of the cockpit and said, “I got this,” and went.

We are now safely tied up at Kingman’s Marina on Cape Cod after an uneventful overnight passage. We look forward to seeing Barb later today and enjoying some well-deserved R&R. Many thanks to all of you who watch the weather, monitor our progress and pray for our safety. When I talked to my dad after we got in, he told me that every day when he gets home from work, the first thing he does is check to see if we have a blog post. The next thing he does is to see where we are on our tracking site. That afternoon on the Gulf of Maine, he saw us make the turn and go north. He did not know what was wrong, but he knew something was up. It occurs to me that you, dear readers, are like those lighthouses we see. Stalwart and steadfast, keeping us safe through your thoughts and prayers. Please know how much it means to us to have your support through fair winds and foul.