June 21 - Sea legs

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Let’s talk about sea legs.

It has always taken me a bit to adjust to the motion at sea. Usually just a day of needing to keep the horizon in sight. But on this trip, I got blind sided by a halyard. It had come loose and wrapped around the port spreader. When I went forward to free it, I spent 15 minutes looking straight up at a wildly swinging mast and my equilibrium was cooked. I was toast.

Heading back to the cockpit, I knew I was in trouble. Peter was looking a little uncertain himself. It was my watch, but Peter asked if he could take the helm to see if that would make him feel better. I agreed and sat in the cockpit, trying to avoid what I knew I couldn’t avoid. To no avail.

When it came time to lower the main sail, I went forward, but with a warning to Joy and Peter: If something wet and warm comes your way, duck!

Later, when we arrived at the Cojo Anchorage and I needed to drop the hook, I went forward with the same warning to the crew.

I ate a bit after we arrived and went to bed. When I woke up the next morning, I had my sea legs on. It’s amazing how your outlook changes when you’re not sea sick.

We were on the water for the next 36 hours and all of us, including Peter, got our sea legs on for good. But when we arrived at the marina at Pillar Point, we had to get off the boat. And the process starts again, only in reverse. The three of us, staggering like drunks down the dock and up to the café drew a lot of stares from the tourists on the dock and smiles of understanding from the sailors and fishermen.

Joy insisted on a table by the window so she could at least see the motion of the water. The most harrowing part for all of us was using the marina’s showers. We staggered. We swayed. We banged our shoulders into the wall. We couldn’t wait to get back on the boat and the security of a rolling deck.

H

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Photos

The scene of the crime
2nd day out and it hit me. I was still mobile, but just barely. The next day, I had my sea legs on.