Back at the Helm: Returning to Sailing (and to SoCal!)

After a long hiatus from regular sailing and racing due to a string of illnesses, injuries, and a much-needed 2 year sabbatical in the Bay Area, I’m finally making my way back—and I couldn’t be more thrilled. This April, Cassiopeia and I will return to Southern California, ready to continue our adventures on the water.

It’s been a journey—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Stepping away from sailing was never something I wanted, but my body had other plans. The pause, while painful, taught me a lot about myself. And now, I’m coming back with more perspective, more strength, and a deeper appreciation for the sea, for my boat, and for the people who make this sailing life so rich.

One of those people is my ride-or-die sailing sister, wing woman, and dear friend of over 20 years—Carrie Linskey Peters.

Carrie and I have shared countless adventures, races, and unforgettable days on the water. Together, we’ve double-handed PSSA and DRYC races and co-led our all-woman crew in the CYC Sunset Series—a blend of learning, laughter, and accomplishments I’ll always cherish. Her intuition and ease aboard a sailboat are next level. She might not always be able to clearly explain her tactical decisions mid-race—but trust me, she’s usually right on. She’s a not-so-secret weapon and a huge part of Cassiopeia’s success. We call her fire eyes for a reason!

I’m beyond excited to reunite with Carrie this summer aboard Cassiopeia as we jump back into racing—starting with double handing the DRYC Cat Harbor Layover Race as well as in the revival of DRYC’s iconic “Ladies Got Guts” race from Marina del Rey to Catalina, a nod to the bold women who started it and raced it in the 1970s.

Carrie has taught me so much about being a better driver, a racer (I used to HATE racing), and a more grounded human. “No higher, no lower” is her steady counsel—on the water and in life. I love her deeply and am endlessly grateful for our bond—rooted in sailing, personal growth, ridiculous laughter, cockpit dance parties and all the messy, beautiful lessons life has to offer.

Stay tuned—Cassiopeia is coming home, and this next chapter is just getting started!!!!

New Adventures Await

It has been a year and a half since I have posted anything here on my beloved sailing blog. That year and a half has been one of the most challenging epochs of my life. My health and wellness took a huge hit in a few ways over that time, and I was rendered unable to do much in my life, let alone sail my boat. I am extremely grateful to be feeling better and slowly getting back out on the water. I am so happy to be able to turn my attention once again to my sailing dreams.

Once of these dreams has been to keep Cassiopeia in the Bay Area for a while to seek new adventure and experience. Thanks to my boyfriend, that dream has become a reality.

We had a perfect weather window in which to make our voyage, and we took as much time as we could afford so that my recovering body and I could get some semblance of sleep along the way. We took 4 days to make the trip, stopping in Santa Barbara for a day and night (to avoid weather), and Morro Bay and Monterey for a couple of four-hour naps (never seeing the light of day). We rounded the dreaded Pt. Conception on a blissfully calm day, and the only wind of note that we experienced was for a few hours just after we rounded Pt. Sur.

The trip was physically exhausting for me, but equally rejuvenating for my spirit. Even though we never actually sailed, being on the water again brought me back into myself like nothing else possibly could have……the sheer majesty of the California coastline, the full moon lighting our way, the dramatic sunrises and sunsets, being surrounded by whales and other sea life…. All of it brought me to my knees in gratitude.

I want to thank Brendan for his company, support and expertise on this journey. It is not one I will soon forget!

And now…..we get to enjoy all that the San Francisco Bay has to offer!

Three Bridge Fiasco!

The San Francisco Bay Singlehanded Sailing Society’s Three Bridge Fiasco is infamous. I have been intrigued over the years by all of the stories I have heard of the hundreds of boats on San Francisco Bay trying to navigate an unprescribed course around three bridges (or their neighboring marks) in unpredictable and often painfully light conditions.

I was excited as always to be doublehanding with my boyfriend, Brendan on his boat, Siren. Siren is a Santa Cruz 33, and is one of my secret boat crushes (don’t tell Cassiopeia!). We headed out of Richardson Bay at around 0830 on a perfect winter’s day, surrounded by dramatic and captivating beauty that only San Francisco Bay can deliver. Every time I have the opportunity to sail up there, I seem to fall more and more in love with the varied conditions and jaw dropping beauty of that enchanted place.

I was at the helm as we approached the starting area near Golden Gate YC. As I laid eyes on the hundreds of boats circling the area, I felt so nervous that my stomach jumped up into my throat. I had never been on the water with this many boats in close quarters before, and it was startling to me. As we tacked around with them jockeying for our starting position, I was heartened however, by the palpable competence of all of these sailors as they danced skillfully and calmly with us. Having Brendan at the helm was doubly comforting, because there is absolutely non one with whom I feel safer on a sailboat. HIs peaceful confidence instills the same in me.

Part of the challenge and fun of this race, is that there is no set course, only marks around which one must pass. Direction and order in which you do this is up to you. We decided to head to Treasure Island first, which may not have been the best choice in the end, as it took us over an hour to round the island due to light flukey wind and strong currents, but we finally made it.

We sailed almost all the way to our second mark at Red Rock, but by then we were drifting and decided to retire and head back to Sausalito. Only a handful of boats finished that day, but it was wonderful to be out on the water all day in that wonderful place nonetheless. I was also grateful as always for time on the water with Brendan and Siren!

A Magical Day on the Water

PSSA Ship Rock Race turned into a Catalina adventure

 Most days on the water slay me, but this one took me by surprise with its unexpected majesty. Perhaps it was the fact that I hadn’t been out alone on my boat in quite a while, or perhaps it was that I have been in a bit of a funk, or maybe it was simply the pure magic of this day on the water. Whatever the reason, my spirit feels renewed, and I am grateful. 

 I left the dock in Marina Del Rey at 0945 am during a Tsunami warning. This sounds dramatic, but the only effects apparent in my marina were dramatic tide level changes (which was admittedly freaky), but I felt safe. The Coast Guard recommended heading out the sea if possible, and that is just what I did. To be honest, I was going to do that anyhow, but it felt good to be supported in my plans by the higher ups. The morning was rainy and a bit grey, and debris littered the marina as I made my way out past the breakwater. As I hoisted my mainsail and pointed my boat seaward, that feeling started creeping in…the one where I feel alive, whole and fully in my power. 

 I started out the day feeling disappointed because I was supposed to be racing doublehanded with my boyfriend, but COVID had other plans. As Cassiopeia and I journeyed out through roiling post tsunami surges towards the starting line, however, I began to feel the blessing of being there alone. It was perfect. My heart gave a little start, as it always does, as I approached my compadres gathering for the start. There is something so special about seeing and waving to all of my friends who are also out there seeking challenge and adventure in shorthanded sailing.

 The wind was negligible, at the start, and the lighter boats left us heavier ones in their almost imperceptible wakes. Even pointing in the correct direction was a feat, and the lot of us at one point or another were either spinning in slow circles, unable to steer, or moving backwards. At one point I heard a fellow racer’s laugh bellowing across the glassy water as I looked back to see him heading in the wrong direction after one of these moments.

 In my mind, I knew I wouldn’t finish, with many miles ahead of me and a boat speed of 1-3 knots, but I was captivated by the magic of the day and stayed out on the water to soak it all in. Even though there wasn’t much wind, there was always something to do to coax a little more speed out of Cassiopeia. Even in these mild conditions, sailing calls me into the present moment like nothing else. Pure attention to each subtle shift in the wind, and the reaction of my vessel is a moving meditation for me.

 As I slowly made my way towards Catalina, I felt like I had been swept away in the most beautiful love affair. The changeable conditions and atypical wind direction painted a day so ethereal that I was totally captivated; from a pod of whales surfacing out of a glassy sea about 20 feet away from me, to gentle rain showers christening our journey, to extreme wind shifts and velocity changes, and finally to a jaw dropping sunset, I was awestruck. 

 The racing didn’t matter to me at all, it was the experience of being out there on the expanse of the bay, surrounded by so many of nature’s wonders that made me feel alive. This is what makes me flourish and thrive, and I was reminded why I love being on the sea alone. The opportunity for oneness with nature and spirit is unparalleled when I am out there alone with no distractions and only myself to rely on. It is one of the greatest blessings of my life!

I stayed out until the sun set and the afterglow faded into a moonlit night, and then I started my engine and headed into the Isthmus so I could wake up the next day greeted by one of my favorite places on earth!

A Shout out to my brave friend, Whitall Stokes!

Today is Thanksgiving. As with many families, the traditional ways in which my family and I have come together at this time, have been rendered impossible by Covid. On top of that, I have been isolating for 2 weeks, due to bizarre symptoms and the weighty responsibility of possessing such symptoms in the times of a global pandemic. Therefore, my 53rd birthday and my 53rd Thanksgiving have been “unusual” to say the least. So, I sit here alone in my apartment contemplating life, and fantasizing about my upcoming sailing adventures, which include Catalina trips and racing in the PSSA winter series . Cassiopeia and I will be getting our sh*t together in the next two months so that we can get out there into the wild blue after a year of tending to family obligations.

One of my daily rituals in my solitude, is to track my dear friend Whitall Stokes. He is a little over two weeks into his attempt to circumnavigate the world, solo, non-stop and unassisted, aboard his Open 50, Sparrow. I was blessed to be able to be in San Francisco to see him off as he sailed under the Golden Gate and into his great adventure. What a special time!

Today I had the pleasure of emailing with him. He is facing so many challenges right now, not the least of which is beating into high winds. No matter his challenges though, he always finds the beauty, which is one of the many reasons we connect so deeply.

I am toasting him today, and every day! He is out there in the big blue, chasing his dreams and challenging himself. Go Whitall!!

If you want to know more about Whitall and his adventure, click HERE.

If you would like to track his progress, click HERE.

‘Lectronic Latitude published a great little article about Whitall’s adventure. Check it out HERE.

My intrepid friend and I on the dock before his departure on November 8. Photo by Christine Weaver, Latitude 38 (on my camera)

Whitall’s position on Thanksgiving day, 2020

Father's Day

Yesterday was Father’s day. I have never been a fan of these “holidays” (to me, every day is Father’s, Mother’s and love day!), but yesterday it felt more significant to me. Maybe because I was inundated with all of the Father’s day energy around my life and on social media, which reminded me that for the first time in my life, on Father’s day, I didn’t have a dad.  

I haven’t written in this blog since I left last year to go and live with my father to help care for him in the last months of his life. He passed away on February 14, 2020.  It was one of the greatest honors of my life to be by his side in his last months and especially when he took his last breath on this earthly plane. My heart broke in a million pieces that night, but I have also been flooded with gratitude for the gift of having had this amazing, dynamic man as my dad for 52 years.

Fast-forward 4 months, and here I am, back in my life finally, with a place of my own again, in the midst of a pandemic, and riding the twisty roller coaster of grief.  During my long absence from my life here, Cassiopeia sat patiently awaiting my return. She has not missed a beat, and is being patient with me as I get my sailing chops back up, and find my sea legs again. The last couple of years brought some physical challenges for me, so on top of being rusty, it has been a journey to get my strength and mobility back up to speed. I am getting there!

Yesterday, I decided that the best way to honor my Pop, and also myself, was to head out on a sail. Apart from going to Catalina a couple of times, I hadn’t done a solo sail in a long time. It was a beautiful day, and just frisky enough that I took a reef early on. My girl is a powerhouse, and I have learned that reefing conservatively is the best recipe, especially if I am alone. We tacked away from the Sunday traffic and got in our groove on a starboard tack, honking along at 7-8 knots. We headed south and found ourselves on a perfect course for my favorite island getaway. I seriously almost kept on going, but after a couple of hours decided to turn back to my slip and my life on land. As I sailed out to sea, I spoke with my Pop. I thanked him for the gift of sailing and for my adventurous spirit. I asked him if he was ok with my sail trim and general state of affairs aboard my boat, and also shared my heart. I like to think he was there with me as I ate my smoked oysters and toasted him with a cold beer. He was the king of weird boat food, so I thought it appropriate to have a little snack in his honor. As I turned back for Marina Del Rey, the wind started to mellow to about 10-11 knots, so I shook out my reef and reached my way home. I was graced by tons of dolphins, seagulls and pelicans…perfect companions for my dad and me on the home stretch. I took the helm for a good long time, and sat in his (and my) favorite spot on the leeward rail. I imagined all of the times throughout my life that we sailed together in silence, with no need for words. Our unspoken mutual love and appreciation for each other and the energy of the boat and the sea was enough for us. 

When I got back to the slip, I put on some tunes and commenced the ritual of putting my boat away. For me, one of the greatest joys of boat ownership and sailing is puttering around the boat. As I methodically tended to all that needed to be done, I could hear my dad’s commentary from all of our times over my lifetime doing the same on his boats. He loved puttering, and oddly, puttering on my boat is the time that I feel the most like he is with me. He would always say that there is nothing better than messing about in boats, his nod to the famous line from The Wind in the Willows: 

 "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

 I will always carry him with me, especially as I careen over the sea with the wheel in my hand and the breeze in my face. I can feel him in me in those moments as if he is looking out of my own eyes. I always knew from the look on his face as he steered his vessel, that we shared the exact same deep satisfaction and bliss that can only come from looking out over the horizon from the helm of a sailboat.  

 I love you Pop!

Sailing out of Santa Monica Bay

Reaching home

Team Cassiopeia!!

I haven’t posted anything since June, but that does not mean that this past summer was not chock-full of sailing. In fact I think that is actually the reason I haven’t posted. Now that I am up in the mountains reflecting on an amazing “season” of sailing and racing, I thought I would share about what my amazing team accomplished this season. You have read about them before, but this year everyone stepped up their game and we were on fire beyond my wildest dreams!

 When forming Team Cassiopeia in 2018, I had one mission: to foster an environment of learning and support. I was adamant that here would be no yelling, no egos, and no unkind criticism. This wasn’t too hard with a group of women, but I was dead serious about it, and the ladies supported my mission. The skill level on our team ranged from our tactician, who is a life long racer (and all around badass), to me, an experienced sailor with little buoy racing experience, to experienced race crew, to relatively new sailors with no racing experience. We all showed up honestly with our strengths and our areas that needed nurturing and growth. 

 Our first season in the 2018 Sunset Series was a steady upward trajectory of learning and honing our flow as a team. Every single member of the team consistently gave their all, and put their egos aside to absorb whatever new skills or information would make them a better sailor and crew. There was something new to learn on every race. This includes me, for I did not have any experience at the helm in races like this before last year, and I had a lot to learn. 

 As we entered our second season of the Sunset Series, we were becoming a well-oiled machine. As such, we were able to push ourselves harder and improve individually and as a team. Every woman brought her all from day one, through every race. The seamless blend of tenacity and humility of each of these women, is what earned us a first place in our class in the 2019 Sunset Series, and 2nd place overall (of both cruising A and B). I am so grateful to each woman on our team, and to our mentors and fellow racers who pushed us to always reach higher. Experiencing this extraordinary group of women grow into the competitive team we are today has been one of the greatest joys and sources of pride in my life. These women are my soul sisters and my confidantes. We are so blessed to not only sail and race together, but to share our lives and hearts! Love reigns supreme aboard Cassiopeia, and I sincerely believe that that is our recipe for success!

A special shout out goes to our tactician, Carrie Linskey Peters, without whom we would not have achieved all that we have in the past 2 years. Her expertise and unique coaching methods are the driving force behind our success on the racecourse. She calls tactics like nobody’s business and coaches the entire team with love, encouragement, and just the right amount of ass kicking!. I know that I am a much better helmswoman and racer because of her. I would sail anywhere with her.

A little history on this team (have I mentioned how much I love them all????!!!!)…..

Tactician:

Carrie Linskey Peters grew up racing dinghies in Marina Del Rey at Cal Yacht Club. She also had the opportunity to race side by side with her Dad, Jim Linskey, a well known rigger and experienced racer, on many larger race boats. Her mad skills come from all of her dinghy experience, and also from absorbing knowledge from her dad and other racing legends around Marina Del Rey. She went on to race at UC Irvine. Though she took a hiatus from sailing to raise her kiddos, she has not skipped a beat! Sailing and racing is in her veins! There is no-one like Carrie…she just knows things in her bones, and as she directs us, we all absorb this innate knowledge and are able to grow exponetially as sailors and racers.

Lara Jacques was our original tactician, and we miss her dearly. She is a badass and has so much knowledge about sailing and racing. Together we conquered our fears about stepping up our game as we launched team Cassiopeia in 2018. I am forever grateful to her and cherish her beyond words!

Genoa Trimmers:

Monica Viera jumped into sailing by buying a boat. I met her at 5 years ago at the inspection of her lovely vessel (a Hunter 31 named Ixchel). Since then, Monica has pushed herself and has become a very capable skipper and an extraordinary crew aboard Cassiopeia. Her strength is unmatched, and she can trim in my huge Genny like nobody’s business!! Watching her grow as a sailor has been a great honor and pleasure.

Paula Paige is relatively new to sailing, but you would never know that, because it seems to be something that was in her all along. She understands and executes the nuances of sail trim with the skill of someone who has done it for years. Paula will be a boat owner soon, and I have no doubt will be singlehanding all over before we know it!

Main:

Gabriella Dorsen has been called the swiss army knife of our boat. She and I have sailed and cruised many miles together, and I would sail with her anywhere. She has a knack for fixing things, and can adapt to any role on the boat with ease. She has become quite a main trimmer, and an integral part of our crew. We always feel her absence when she cannot race with us.

Foredeck:

Debbi Juster came to us with racing experience on other boats. She is the oldest member of our crew, but you would never know it, becasue she is stronger than most of us and moves around like a woman half her age. She has a wonderful attitude, and always has a joke and lots of love to share.

Jana Davis was finally able to join our team permanently this past season! We are so glad. She keeps us focused and brings lots of foredeck experience and all around racing knowledge. She offers a fresh and thoughtful perspective that helps me see a bigger picture.

Roamer and Tactician assistant:

Robin Mohilner brings joy and lightness to our crew. Her infectious laugh and enthusiasm lifts us all up. She has been asked to fill many roles, and always does so with joy and willingness to learn.

Cat Harbor Layover :: Double-handing with Carrie Linskey Peters

I have been hearing about the Cat Harbor Layover race for years, though for some reason, I had never done it until this year. It is the 4th and 5th race in the William Berger, William Stein race series put on by Del Rey Yacht Club. My crew weren’t available for the race, which gave Carrie and I a perfect opportunity to double-hand in preparation for all of PSSA’s summer races. 

We set off on Friday morning, very excited about the weekend, and pretty much on top of our game. I felt prepared and we were both excited to get out there and push ourselves. We would have done really well on that 1st race if I hadn’t messed up (UNDERSTATEMENT) our start. I misunderstood the order of starts and thought our class was separated, so we missed starting by 5 minutes with all of our competitors. We didn’t let it get us down though, and even managed to pass a couple of them along the way to the west end of Catalina Island. As the day went on, the wind started to die, which made the finish very elusive and much like the end of a rainbow that we would never reach. When we were a mile from the finish the wind shut down altogether and we were literally drifting, tweaking our sails to capture what little wind there was. That’s when we decided a cockpit dance party was in order. We had one big boat on our hip drifting along, and someone in front of us who had already retired due to the lack of wind. Turns out dancing in the cockpit was just the ticket, because we were miraculously able to pull ahead of the big boat behind us and finish the race.  By the time we got to Cat Harbor, it was after 8:30pm and we were beat. Did I mention I brought my dog along? Well I did, and she was dying for a pee, and we had to scramble to get the dinghy inflated, our boat put away, and our food ready to take to shore . By the time I finally did get food, I was” hangry” as all get out, but with a little burger in me, I started to feel myself (thanks Carrie for feeding me)! It was fun to see everyone at the DRYC facility, though we were so late, that we only caught the tail end. Which was fine with us, because we were BEAT and our bunks were calling our names!!

Sunday morning was beautiful, and none of us wanted to leave. Catalina can cast a spell like that for sure. We readied ourselves despite our reticence, and what ensued was one of the best days sailing I have ever had! We had 2 knots of wind at the start, and this time we were starting in a split class. Thank God because ….18 big boats floating around the line with little maneuverability would have been an adventure to say the least. We ghosted across the line with the first few boats and set our gennaker right away. As we did this, the wind came up and we started scooting along. The rest of the day was basically a drag race all the way home, rolling people then being rolled back, trying to catch the Rascals (team Rascal) ahead of us. It was a blast. We flew the gennaker until we finished, and that sail proved to be very versatile as we had her everywhere form a close reach to a broad reach, and her performance never waivered. With only two of us in the boat, we both had to be on top of our game all day. There was barely time or a way to eat. I steered most of the way, while Carrie played our main like a boss, and did a million other things (including feeding me AGAIN). I was able to trim the Gennaker while I steered, and we kept Cassiopeia moving out! By the time we finished, we were both in a state of utter exhaustion. The last time I felt that tired was in the middle of the Pacific. Double handing in these races is challenging in itself, but, because we aren’t permitted to use our autopilot at all, as we can in the PSSA races, there is no rest. We sure felt it, but were both so happy and fulfilled out there! I am so grateful for Carrie and her expertise and for keeping me laughing!. Our teamwork is seamless, and we compliment each other so well. I cannot wait for more races this summer!

My Badass New Friends! Solo Sailors Unite!!

One of my favorite things in life has always been connecting with people. The internet and social media have made it so easy to do this in a much broader way, and for that I am so grateful. This is why I will never quit Facebook or Instagram, because through these platforms, I have met so many amazing humans who have enriched my life.

Ever since I started this blog, and especially since I participated in the Singlehanded Transpac, I have been passionate about connecting with other solo sailors. I am especially excited when they also happen to be women (mainly because, in my opinion, there aren’t enough of us out there doing this stuff - compared to men)!

I recently connected with two amazing young women who are out exploring the world on their boats. They are both singlehanded cruisers who have heeded their soul’s call out over the horizon into the unknown. Through serendipitous events, and social media happenstance, I was able to first host Elana (and her first mate who happens to be one of my sailing heroes- see below), at my yacht club as she passed through Marina Del Rey, then meet up with BOTH Elana and Rachel in San Diego. We met on Elanas’ beloved boat, Windfola (a 1985 Sabre 34) for an evening of connection and sharing. These two amazing women are much younger than I am, but that did not stop us from feeling like sisters in our mutual, and often inexplicable love of solo sailing, adventure seeking, and most importantly, soul searching. Our conversations were deep and meaningful, and I know I left them better for our time together.

Rachel and I were there to see Elana off on her next adventure, a passage from San Diego to the South Pacific and then New Zealand. I am in awe of the grit and determination of each of these young women, but mostly I am in awe of their wisdom and willingness to face themselves so honestly.  

I will be following them both (see links below), and I hope you will too. Elana has some exciting options on her blog for you to follow her and support her journey. I am grateful to have met these brave souls, who like me, are out there searching for their truths by following their heart and soul’s calling.

Fair winds to you both, my lovely, badass friends! I love you! I cannot wait until our paths cross again!

 PS….one of the synchronistic bonuses of connecting with Elana when we first met in Marina Del Rey, is that one of my sailing heroes, Synthia Petroka was helping her deliver her boat down to San Diego. Synthia did the Singlehanded Transpac 10 years before I did, and is a racing legend up in San Francisco. It was so wonderful to get to know her!

PSS….My friend Robin, another solo sailor was in the mix and ended up being a huge part our DRYC nights and helped in hosting Elana and Windfola at DRYC!

Elana and Zia (her cute ass dog) aboard Windfola: Peregrina Sails

Rachel , Bear and Zita (her 2 gorgeous doggies) aboard Coconut : Salty Señorita

A Step Back into My Joy

I just returned from a soul-soothing trip to Catalina for 5 days and 5 nights. Catalina island has become a sanctuary for my heart and soul over the years. Whenever I need to escape the energy of the city, I am grateful to be able to sail 28 miles across the channel and into her magical realms. I am a country girl at heart, and I grew up surrounded by nature and wide open spaces and that is always where I need to return when I get off-kilter, or city life starts to get the best of me. The ocean provides deep solace, but I need  earth energy to balance it out sometimes. Thankfully, Catalina has the best of both, reminiscent of my childhood home of Hawaii.

The day I left for the island, I was supposed to be racing (really, finishing a race), but I had to make a different decision. I have not been feeling 100% for some time, and I had to admit to myself that I was not up for it. The last two attempts to go offshore, and the resulting sea sickness, mixed with life’s challenges, have been taking their toll, and I knew it would’ve been too much. To admit this was very hard for me, but I also knew that it was essential to my well-being. The last two and a half years since my epic trip to Hawaii have turned out to be  among the most challenging of my life. They have marked the threshold into the next phase of healing some old wounds, for once and for all. My trip, and the heartbreaking loss of my dear Haunani, collided with my mid-life passage which has provided an opening in my being for this healing. It has been HARD, but I see the opportunity, and I am very grateful.

 Sailing is my solace, but lately it has started to feel more like a push I have started to feel the need to prove something, or do it a certain way. So instead of racing last weekend I returned to the sheer joy of sailing. I am so glad, because in allowing this, I was able to dig down and soothe some parts of myself that have needed love and tenderness and NOT pushing and proving.

The journey started with a night in magical Emerald bay, where I ran into, and got to share a meal with some of my PSSA compadres who had just finished the race. I then motored around to Cat Harbor early the next morning, where I moored for a couple of nights. The last two nights were spent in Moonstone Cove, where Cassiopeia was the lone vessel in the expanse of two mooring fields. It was beyond peaceful and soul soothing. My sweet soul sister Gabi joined me for the sail home on Thursday, where we had 17-22 knot winds providing a lively journey……with NO sea sickness thanks to Sturgeron!!

I have never seen the island so green and resplendent with wildflowers. Every place I looked seemed more magnificent than the last. There was hardly a soul around, and it felt like I had the place to myself. The island company offers a week for the price of two nights in the winter, so no one had to twist my arm to take the extra days to revel in it all. I took long, aimless walks with my Gracie, and also got to spend some time with friends. I ate simply and drank lots of tea on deck. I read, wrote, played my guitar, sang and just sat still. It was pure magic.

I became more skilled at beaching my dinghy alone (for dog trips to shore in the remote coves) with only a few of my famous beach wipeouts as a warm up. I spent my first night ever, alone in a remote place with no other boats (besides the middle of the ocean that is). I had 4/5 successful solo mooring pick-ups. And most importantly, I was able to emotionally and physically decompress in a way I haven’t in many months. The quiet and peace of the island seeped into my bones and soothed what ailed. As with every trip to that magical land, I started counting my days until the next trip before I even left.

I am eternally grateful for the blessing of my boat, and the beautiful sanctuary of Catalina Island which is always beckoning from right across our back yard!

My Aborted Qualifier

As I’ve mentioned, I have been trying to do my 125-mile qualifier for a couple of weeks now. It turns out the effort was in vain, since our Guadalupe Island for which I needed to qualify, has since been canceled, but I wanted to share about my latest journey anyhow. The journey is what really matters to me, and though I said it was in vain, I truly don’t believe any of these efforts are in vain. I have been able to give Cassiopeia a good shakedown, and I feel ready for Begg Rock now, which is the race that is replacing Guadalupe Island. I have included some videos of my day, interspersed with the story to give a sense of the ups and downs of my day.

 I finally found a few days that I could get away, and then I had to wait for the right weather. I was vacillating between compulsively checking all of the wind prediction sites and obsessively staring at the sea of masthead flies out my window. I would look at the wind direction and will the wind instrument cups to spin faster. All of this in hopes of grabbing the perfect weather recipe to head offshore. Did I mention it was raining? It was a dreary day in Marina Del Rey, but there is something about the moodiness of it all that was calling me out there anyhow. I’m not afraid of a little rain, but truth be told, I fear the fog, and on top of that, I really didn’t want to head out for this trip in anything under 10 knots.

 I ended up departing on a Sunday morning. The wind looked good and the weather was clear. I started my track right outside the breakwater because the wind was actually up, which wasn’t expected for a bit. I was planning on motoring up towards Malibu for a while to ensure a nice tack out past the West End of Catalina, and ended up being able to sail instead. The conditions were dreamy, and Cassiopeia was moving well.

My happiness couldn’t win over the sea sickness I started to feel about 3 hours into our trip. It is fairly usual for me to feel a little quease, but this came on fast, and got pretty yucky. I stayed my course though and was determined to persevere. As sunset was approaching, I was nearing the West end. I decided to tack away for while, because not only was I closer to the island than I wanted to be, but there was a huge black squall just beyond, which didn’t look too fun.

With my new inner stay, I have to furl my Genoa in order to tack, and I am not used to this yet, so it admittedly throws me off my routine (I actually forgot on my 1st tack of the day and learned 1st hand why this is mandatory). I started to tack, and thankfully remembered at the last minute, got the sail in, and the tack was fine. We headed out for a while in the pre-sunset light, and though I was happy to be going away from the black skies, I realized I was not being very efficient in getting offshore. The wind direction made it such that I was essentially heading more towards home than out to sea, so I decided to tack back and brave the squall. I remembered on this tack to furl my sail, but this time it wouldn’t budge. I tried a few tricks, but the furler was jammed. I went up forward to check it out and I had the world’s most annoying and severe override of the furling line. There was nothing I could do to fix it in the drum, so I had to remove all of the line. All of this while the bow is heaving and I am getting sicker by the moment. I got the line out, and started to see if there was an efficient way to re-run it without dropping my sail (so I could wind it easily on the drum). There really wasn’t, and I felt like crap. I hemmed and hawed for a moment as I hung on to the wet foredeck, but the thought of heading offshore towards a squall in the night without a way to reef my big Genoa was not prudent (and I didn’t want to deal with dropping it and lashing it on deck in the dark feeling the way I was). Sure I could have lashed the genoa to my foredeck then and there, and continued with my staysail until morning, but sickness trumped everything, and I decided to call it a day. I dropped the sail, and turned Cassiopeia towards the Isthmus, which was about nine miles away. I was kicking myself because the override was totally my fault. I didn’t tend the furling line on one of my tacks as I let the sail out. This is something I always ride my crew about, and I did it in a moment of thoughtlessness. I was very annoyed with myself, to say the least!

As I motor sailed towards the familiar harbor, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I was sad to quit, but also glad to be heading in for a respite from this queasiness. As we approached the entrance to the harbor, darkness fell heavily, and there was no moon to guide us. Thankfully the wind subsided as I dropped my sails and headed in. I called harbor patrol a few times and there was no answer. Oh right…its winter. They go home early this time of year, so I was on my own. I usually ask for assistance when Im alone in picking up a mooring. The guys are so happy to help, and I have found that doing it alone in my big boat is just not that fun. It was all up to me that night, though, and I managed to get it done in three tries…mostly because I could hardly see a thing, let alone a skinny stick in that darkness. If anyone had seen or heard me, it would have provided some serious comic relief. I had a running conversation going with myself and Cassiopeia, as I tried to shine my headlamp just so to be able to see the stick, and then to get her at just the perfect glide to make it all happen.

 Once I was on the mooring, I was able to let down, and I realized I was still very queasy. Usually the quease subsides once I stop moving, but not this time. It continued into the next day, and most of the way home. I was able to easily fix my furler the next morning, but once I stopped focusing on that, I felt so sick that I had to go to land for a few hours before heading home. Thankfully the island did not disappoint with her emerald green hills and impressive serenity. A long walk helped me to re-calibrate a bit. I was more saddened by my sea sickness than by retiring from my qualifier. It feels like such a cruel joke to get sick doing the thing I love the most. I love it too much to stop though, and am now determined to find the perfect sea sickness remedy for these shorter offshore trips.

The beauty always wins, and as I write this, I am reminded that sailing is my solace, and something I do to feed my soul. It is so easy to get sucked into proving and pushing as I get more into solo offshore racing, but this trip reminded me to slow down and connect to my why. For me it is all about connecting to myself more deeply. Sailing gives me that, and when I slow down enough to listen to my gut and remember the pleasure that I am seeking, I can be kinder to myself when snafus happen and I need to turn around. Of course if I were in my way to Hawaii, I would have continued and would have had to fix the furler underway…or perhaps I would have waited to daylight. The point is though, that I was doing this for myself, and I was close to land with a safe and easy way to take care of myself. I’m proud to have chosen that.

even feeling sick, this view brings me so much peace

Almost to the West End, moving out!

Before I fixed the furler. Green island bidding me good morning!

My sweet friend Robin arriving to keep me company on the sail home!

my track….note the gaggle of dots as I tried to fix that pesky furler!

The trip was 9 hours and 18 minutes, traveling 50.2 miles. Still a solid trip!

Another Bishop Rock Race Aborted

This was the 2nd time I have attempted to set sail alone for Bishop Rock in PSSA’s race of the same name. The first time was three years ago aboard Haunani, and a few days ago it was aboard my spirited girl, Cassiopeia. When I re-read my post  about my aborted attempt to do the race three years ago, I was hit hard by how much has changed since then. The most obvious difference is my boat. To say that Cassiopeia and  Haunani  are different animals, would be a gross understatement. Cassiopeia is a powerhouse, not unlike an eager young thoroughbred at the starting gates. Haunani was more like a gracefully aging quarter horse, solid, dependable and sure to take care of you when things got squirrely. The other huge change is me. I am a much more competent sailor than I was three years ago. My threshold is higher, and my skills are more developed and ingrained. It feels good to acknowledge that, but since I am committed to always learning and growing, this does not mean I can sit back on my laurels either. It instead means that I am constantly upping the game. Friday afternoon did not disappoint in that department. We had 22-25 knot winds with seven foot swells at the start. It was lively to say the least!

 As the race day approached, I felt very prepared and centered. All lists had been gone through and all safety preparations and provisioning carefully attended to. Cassiopeia and I were ready, and I had just the right amount of nervous energy flowing through me to keep me sharp. This race was to be an important shakedown for Cassiopeia and me.  It would have been our first trip offshore (past Catalina), and would have served as a qualifier for the Guadalupe Island race in March. As I wrote about in my last post, we had a lot to do to get ready, and it was all go in order to get it done. One of the things I did, was to have a new inner stay with a furling staysail installed. I was very excited to try it out, and Mary Ellen was literally working until the moment I pushed off the dock to get it done.

AT the 11th hour, the staysail was up, and I released my dock lines, and pulled out of my slip. I was backed in, so this was not the usual routine. As I pulled out, the wind that was steadily coming up pushed us fast toward the boats on the other side of the basin. I had to bust out some serious Austin Powers moves to keep from hitting any of my neighbors. And so the snafus began…

So, I shake that off, and head out of the basin taking a few deep breaths. I engage my autopilot (remember I just put my NKE autopilot computer on this boat) and head forward to remove my fenders. I cruise back to the helm to adjust the direction of the boat a tad to continue my routine of putting lines and things away. Well, the autopilot has other ideas, and doesn’t disengage. I am heading straight towards docked boats and I could not get control of my helm. I throttled back and tried again, and by the grace of God, something shifted and the clutch disengaged. I have my helm again. OK, more deep breaths. It’s ok, these things happen, and we take them in stride and move forward. I see all the PSSA boats heading out, and I feel a sense of excitement and camaraderie as I always do at the start of these races. I turn the corner into the main channel and set about hoisting my mainsail…something I have done hundreds of times with ease and flow. I head forward to jump the halyard and get about 2 pulls in when I realize that all of the lines at my mast are tangled. Dammit! In the flurry of activity on my boat in the 11th hour, trying to get the staysail working, I hadn’t remembered to check it all after the mainsail (with its new 3rd reef) was re-installed. I assumed it was all as it usually is, and THAT was a huge mistake. It took me three tries and mad untangling to get everything dialed in and get the sail up.

I ended up putting a reef in as I did this, because by this time the wind was up to 18 knots, and Cassiopeia likes to be reefed in anything over 15, especially when I am alone. No problem. I am the reefing queen, I can reef my sail in about 4 minutes flat most of the time. Well, not this time. The reefing lines were criss-crossed and my usual tidy beautiful reef looked like crap, and it was not right. By this time I am almost to the breakwater, and as I pass its protective mass, I am immediately greeted by the 7 foot swells of the day, and the now 20+ knot wind. I set about re-rigging my reef lines. That’s ok, shit happens….deep breaths. As Cassiopeia hobby horsed dramatically on the swells, I tried to get ahold of the lines on the bobbing boom to re-tie them and straighten it all out. I finally got it done, but my reef still was not up to par, and as all the other boats passed me with their tidy perfect reefs in place, I felt so annoyed with myself for not double checking these lines either. I assumed again that everything would be as I usually leave it. Now I am sweating and swearing and trying to shake it all off. I am under power still, with no headsail, and in this wind and swell it is a bit of a push to get out to the starting area.

As we make our way out there, I have a talk with myself and remind myself to forgive myself my mistakes and oversights, shake it off and move forward. Be in the moment! I arrive at the starting area and start the zig zagging and maneuvering that everyone goes through in preparation to head out. I got centered and rolled out my staysail. It was perfect! A perfect sail for this wind, and I was making use of the self-tacker that is on my boat, which made maneuvering amongst the racers in these conditions so easy. YES! I was so excited! We got in the groove and made our last tack to line up for the start, and SMACK. The staysail fell to the deck in a dramatic collapse. WHAT????? Deep breath number 497….thats ok, we can use the Genoa reefed, and it will all be ok. So, I set my autopilot, careful to choose a trajectory that does not include crossing paths with any of the 15 other boats tacking around me, and head up to the foredeck . The bow was soaked and pounding, and as I tied up the sail to get it out of the way, I took multiple face shots of sea water, and was quickly soaked to the bone. Thank goodness I was sweaty and hot, despite the now 22-25 knots of wind. It felt kind of good, actually. I scooted my way back to the cockpit across wet, slippery decks and heaving boat. Ahhh…this is what it’s all about! Even the challenges are exhilarating! I looked at my watch. It was time to start and I wasn’t near the line. I had no headsail up. Shit, ok, let’s head to the line and roll out the Genny. Sounds easy right? Well, there is a reason I wanted a smaller headsail, because that Genoa in wind like this is a nightmare to deploy, especially alone. I furled her out to a suitable reef point, and headed for the start line. The sail was flogging (think dollars flying out the door) and I was doing my danmdest to trim her in WHILE steering to jockey myself into position to cross the stern of the rabbit boat.  It was what I like to call a good old fashioned cluster f**k. I have attached a video of this moment below, taken by my friend. It was also posted on social media earning some commentary about my sail trim. All I can say to that is that when you’re sailing alone you do things at a different pace, and you also pick your battles. Don’t worry, the sail was trimmed shortly after this was taken :-).

I am wet, sweaty and bruised by this time, and most of the fleet is ahead of me by a long shot. I get the sail trimmed and we start moving out! Yes!! Cassiopeia is flying through the swells at almost 8 knots, and I can sit and breathe for a moment. It is more like panting, but who is splitting hairs here? I chug some much needed water, and survey the scene. The boat is under control, and the autopilot is steering her well. I am fine, despite my disheveled state. As I survey the boat, I see my spinnaker bag dangling over the leeward bow. I had rigged the spinnaker and lashed the bag up forward the day before, when the wind predictions were not as they actually were in this moment, and again, in my haste to leave and help with last minute rigging stuff, I didn’t think to remove it and stow it down below. So now, the bag is hanging on by its clips and lashing and filling with water. One clip has already torn off the bag and I have to get it back on deck before the sail comes out of the bag and causes more mayhem. I could tack to make it so the bag is on the windward side, but if I do that I will have had to furl the Genny (NO THANK YOU) because of the inner stay. SO I have to haul it out as it is. I head the boat almost into the wind to slow her down, clip on and go onto the foredeck. It is NOT fun, to say the least. I am slipping to leeward, taking huge face shots and my tether is stuck somewhere. I try to pull on the bag anyhow, but I am sure it weighs over 100 pounds with all the water inside. It is impossible to budge. I grab my spinnaker halyard and hook it onto the bag and start hoisting. Thank GOD for the winch that I just installed on my mast, because without it, I would never have gotten that sail out of the water. I crank and crank, and finally, in what feels like an eternity, I get it on the deck. I secure it in a better spot and head aft again. Now I am really wet, starting to get cold and I am shivering. I get the boat moving again, and she loves it. But now, the fleet is so far ahead of me that I have no chance of catching them. I know I have to get out past San Clemente before a certain time to avoid being becalmed in an approaching high pressure system, and I feel defeated and disheartened.

 Was the boat under control? Yes. Could I have gone on? Yes. Was everything ok? Yes. But I was mentally and physically exhausted by this time, and I was only a couple of hours in. I started to feel queasy and even worse, dizzy, and everything felt impossible. I cried. I yelled. I thought about it. Finally, I closed my eyes and tuned into my intuition, and asked what I should do. The answer was clear as a bell. Go home, regroup and try again later when you are more centered. I called the race committee, retired, and headed Cassiopeia for home. It was a bittersweet decision, but it felt right. We flew back to the marina at 8 knots, surfing big swells giving me a chance to clear my head and respect myself for my decision. I pulled into my slip with a sense of relief ……..and then disbelief, because the wind was so strong that I had to keep the boat in gear to even jump off and get a dock line onto a cleat. My final test by mother nature that day at least got a laugh out of me, and not much more than a bow scuff on Cassiopeia.

It took me a long time to clean up the mayhem of my boat after those few hours. Being exhausted didn’t help my cause, but the routine of it was grounding, and by the time I left Cassiopeia all nestled in her slip, I felt at peace with the day.

 I spent the following day fixing all that went awry, going through my rigging and set up with a fine toothed comb. I hoisted my main and reefed it in the slip at all three points, making sure the lines were clear, I checked and double checked the runs of all of the other lines, and helped Mary Ellen fix my staysail furler. I went for a practice sail and all is in order again. I will leave Saturday morning to go offshore again, this time on my own, and not in a race. I have to qualify for Guadalupe Island by sailing 125nm solo. I am looking forward to heading out in a more centered frame of mind and with a boat that is set up exactly as I like it. I have nothing to prove except to myself, and that is one of my biggest lessons in solo sailing.

 Here are a few takeaways from Friday’s adventures:

1.     ALWAYS double check everything before leaving the dock. Don’t ASSUME!

2.     Take 100% ownership for everything on the boat, even if someone else was onboard fixing stuff.

3.     Practice, practice, practice, especially on extreme weather days.

4.     Always trust my gut.

5.     Know when to push and when to step back….again, trust my gut!

 5 boats out of 16 finished the race, so I was not alone, but I am quite sure I was the first to tap out.

This would have been my course for the day. 165nm

Yes, I KNOW my Genoa is flogging...I had just deployed it and was rushing forward to trim it as I started. Video by my friend Ray.

mayhem in the cockpit after returning

My compadres’ tracks about half way into the race

Following a Thread :: Why do I love to go to sea alone

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

-William Stafford

This poem has always resonated deeply with me. It has actually done more than that; it has provided me with validation and understanding. I have innately trusted the thread since I was a young woman, even though I had no words for what it was back then. I have faithfully followed it’s winding pull (albeit at times, kicking and screaming), trusting that whatever happened along the way would make perfect sense one day, or at the very least, serve an important purpose. The GPS track of my solo journey 2500 miles across the Pacific in 2016 is the thread making itself visible for a flash. Other times it is not quite so recognizable. When I think back on my life and some things I so confidently and erroneously declared as truth, I am just a day sailor stands out as one. I used to repeat this phrase like a mantra when asked if I had any big sailing goals. It goes to show that sometimes there exist truths in our souls that we are not quite ready to see. This is why I trust the thread. I am amazed at how it has always shown me the way. It continues to be a silent filament holding firm on its course, an invisible web of a life map, MY life map.

Even thinking back as recently as 2 years ago, just after completing the SHTP, getting asked if I would ever do that trip again would get an are you f***ing kidding me  look. Within a couple months of that however, I would respond with “maybe when I’m 60”. And here I am at 51, just two and a half years after the finish of that race, thinking about sailing solo again across the Pacific again in 2020. It seems that I can feel the thread pulsating in my hand more than ever now as I pay deep attention to the calling I feel. 

I feel alive when I trust the path of my life. Solo offshore sailing has become and inextricable part of my path now, and the call to sail farther, dig deeper and push myself in new ways is loud and clear. Sometimes the thread is like this. It can go from subtle hints to billboard sized flashes of truth without warning. There are times that I get overwhelmed and remind myself that I could just relax back into the comfort of being only a day sailor, (or a Catalina Island adventurer). That would be pleasant and easy. It would not quell the stirring in my soul to seek new horizons though. My drive has gotten more specific lately. Someone asked me if I wanted to double-hand the next race, and my answer was an emphatic NO. This is not to say I wont double-hand a race again, or sail with friends, but it is confirmation that sailing alone and challenging myself in this way is what calls me out over the horizon. I have been voraciously reading books written by solo sailors describing their journeys, looking for kindred souls or some kind of explanation for this fierce calling of mine. In my pursuit, I have certainly found kindred spirits, but what I am learning is that our calls to go to sea alone are unique. We can relate to one another, but we still sail on guided by our own inner compass, and in my case, the quest for answers to deep questions about who I really am without the energy of others near me.  As one of my favorite writers on solo offshore sailing, Christian Williams articulates: “something is out there that doesn’t have a name”. I suppose that is why I am driven to sail out over the horizon by myself…..in search of that something. We all have our own SOMETHING to find.

Offshore Prep :: Cassiopeia and I are almost ready!

There is a familiar sense of excitement bubbling up in me right now. Preparations have begun in earnest to get Cassiopeia and me ready to go offshore this winter leading up to our big trip to Hawaii in the 2020 Shaka Challenge. As much as Hawaii is a big goal, I am learning that singlehanding the Guadalupe Island race in March might trump it in intensity and personal challenge (or so I have been warned).  All warnings have been taken under advisement, and I am committed to doing it anyway……..typical ! The fire in my belly grows every day, as the reality of going offshore again becomes palpable. I have the drive to push myself and learn more deeply about what it takes to be out there alone. I am excited to feel Cassiopeia step up to a new challenge as well. After 2 1/2 years, I know her so well now, and I am finally ready to venture over the horizon with her as my steed.

PSSA’s famed Guadalupe Island race takes place every two years and is touted by almost every veteran I have talked to as a huge challenge, and one which they would think twice about undertaking again. It is 650nm and the course is from Marina Del Rey to Guadalupe Island, Mexico and back to Catalina Island. The run to Guadalupe is usually downwind, and can be quite pleasant. It is the beat back up the coast that is reputed to be a huge ass kicking. Over 300nm of upwind sailing at a time of year when huge winds are likely. Is it weird that I am actually excited for this?

Bishop Rock and Guadalupe Island are Category 2 and 1 offshore races, respectively, so I have a laundry list of items to check off in preparation. There will be an inspection of Cassiopeia to make sure that we are in compliance for each race. Most of the items are safety related, including a life raft, which thankfully, I already own. I’ll attach a list below to give an idea of what else is required. Needless to say, with 3 weeks left until Bishop Rock, I am in turbo project mode to get ready. Bishop Rock will be a great shakedown sail for Guadalupe Island in March. It is 165 nm round trip, straight out from Marina Del Rey and around the rock at the notorious Cortez bank and back to Catalina.

Given the challenging conditions I will likely be facing offshore, I have made some additions to boat. The fist thing I dealt with was my sail plan, with the expert support of my friend and longtime sailmaker, Oliver McCann, of UK Sailmakers. Oliver has been making my sails since 2004, and I trust him implicitly. Here’s what we decided: I am finally putting 3rd reef points in my mainsail. I am having a new furling Gennaker made for reaching (and ease of deployment), and I am also cutting down and re-purposing my 98% jib (that came with my boat) to be used with a furler on a semi permanent inner stay. This will help (especially upwind) when winds are high and I am unable to use my giant 140% Genoa. That genny is awesome, and I am able to reef it on its furler, but I have found that in higher wind (20+), it is more than a handful to reef, and I would rather have a smaller sail altogether. The inner stay will also serve as the stay for my storm jib if I should need it. 

My friend and rigger, Mary Ellen Rose is, as always, guiding me and installing all things rigging. To support my new sail plan, we are installing a Mariner furling system as the inner stay, which is an old but reliable system, and most importantly to me, can be retracted when not in use. There is a lot that goes along with the new sails, and Mary Ellen will be setting me up with all of the rigging necessary for the additions. A little side note about Mary Ellen: She is a true badass, and a huge inspiration to me. She has been a rigger in the marina for a very long time, and started at a time when women riggers were not the norm (they still aren’t, by the way, at least not around here). She has held her own in a male dominated field, and is a wealth of information. She will never lead you astray and is always looking for practical ways to achieve your goals. I highly recommend her. Every time we work together, I learn so much. Not only is she a badass rigger, but she is a wonderful human being, and I adore her!

Last but not least on my list of super cool additions to Cassiopeia, is a Hydrovane self-steering vane. This vane is incredible and has a stellar reputation around the world. Its design is simple and powerful and will handily steer my big boat in all conditions without using any power. A very important feature for me is that it can also be used as an emergency rudder if needed. Category 1 races (Guadalupe Island and Hawaii) require an emergency rudder, so this amazing device kills 2 birds with one stone (I really hate that saying). Everyone I have talked to, and all of the reviews I have read, rave about the Hydrovane and it’s efficacy and dependability. I am very excited to try it out!  We are laying out the installation as I write this, and I should have it working by Bishop Rock. Beyond all this, I really only have one large project left (famous last words), which is to install the drive unit and brain of my NKE autopilot. Both of these projects are being headed up by Jerome Sammarcelli (the guy who roped me into all this singlehanded offshore sailing in the first place) of Sailutions USA, with me as his (hopefully) helpful assistant. 

It is the dawn of a new chapter in my sailing experiences, and I can feel it. There are new challenges to face, new things to learn adn new distances to be traveled. I am ready and fired up to dive in and see where this journey continues to take me.

 Guadalupe Island Preview

Ship Rock and Return :: a PSSA Race

From the starting line located approx. 1.0NM at 164°M from the south end of the MdR detached breakwater, pass El Segundo buoy "ES2" to port, round Ship Rock to port and proceed to the finish. The finish line will be delimited by 2 GPS waypoints. The starboard end of the line is located at 33°44.480N, 118°26.474W. The port end of the line is located at 33°44.482N 118°27.124W. The line runs at 078°M from Pt Vicente Light. If a GPS can not be used, finish when the Point Vicente Light (at position 33°44.500N, 118°24.638W) is within 1.5NM but NO further than 2NM and bears 078°M from the helmsman's position. The skipper shall take his (or HER :-) ) own finish time. Handicap distance 46NM.

Boat preparations permitting ( my NKE Autopilot and/or new Hydrovane installed, and battery issues resolved), I have committed to myself to do all of the PSSA winter races. The first was this past Saturday, and it was a great shakedown race. We had one of our best turn-outs in a long time (and the best ever in my history with PSSA), with 22 boats at the starting line. We have many new members, and they were well represented in this race, which to me, is very exciting and promising! There were 13 double-handed boats, and 9 single-handed, of which I was one. We were all worried about the wind forecast, but the day proved to be consistent even if it was mostly light. 

Charles Calkins' Class 40 was the rabbit boat, with Jerome Sammarcelli as crew. Once they started the race, they hoisted a full set of sails and promptly left us all in the dust. We saw very light wind for most of the day, and most boats had their asymmetrical spinnakers flying. I panicked when I saw this, realizing that I had forgotten mine in my storage locker. My trusty 140% genoa turned out to do the trick though, as I was able to hold my own in the light air. I am always amazed at how Cassiopeia scoots her 15,000 pound self along in such light air. She really blows me away.

It felt so good to be out on the water again, and to be alone on my boat. I love my crew and my friend, but being alone out there evokes something that cannot occur when others are with me. A sense of peace, autonomy and confidence sets in that I find nowhere else in my life. My favorite part of the day was approaching Ship Rock at dusk with a full moon rising. I was chasing my friend, Bill Ziel on Aloha, as I had been most of the day. He peeled out once around the rock, and as I came around, Rod Percival on Rubicon III ghosted in beside me, as only he can do. Once I rounded the rock, the wind came up for awhile, providing one of the most magical evenings of sailing I have had in a long time. Cassiopeia was in her element, reaching along at 7 knots as the sky grew dark and the full moon illuminated our course. At one point, I heard a breathing sound in the dark, and realized that my boat was surrounded by dolphins. They were playing in my bow wake and leaping about on all sides of me. They cruised with me for at least 5 minutes which added to an already mind-blowing scene.

The wind started to lighten up considerably about half way to the finish. Rod was on my tail, and I knew this could mean only one thing....that he would be passing me soon. Sure enough, about 2 miles from the finish, in true Rod fashion, he passed me in 3 knots of wind like it was nothing. I chased him to the finish, which got farther and farther away (or so it seemed) with the dwindling wind. Wind or no wind, the night took my breath away, and reminded me why I love to be at sea alone. The solace, and feeling of connection with nature and the universe is incomparable. The past couple of years have been really hard on me, especially the past 6 months. I have struggled to find light and joy in most things, but being on the boat, gliding along under the full moon was an immediate balm for my heart and soul. I felt true deep joy for the first time in months. I hooted and hollered, laughed, cried and shouted my deep prayers of gratitude into the wind for this amazing opportunity for growth and healing. Not only do these experiences make me a better sailor, but they make me a more connected person.

Congratulations to Tom Wilson on his Hobie 33 who smoked everyone in the singlehanded division, and Charles and Jerome who took 1st in the double handed division. I placed 4th in the singlehanded division in the preliminary results (though this may change, as I just received my renewed PHRF certificate the night I got home, and they have changed my rating…..long story). In the end, my place doesn’t matter to me. What does matter is the experience, and my consistent improvement as a sailor and racer against all of my heroes. As always, I am deeply honored to be in the company of such accomplished and brave sailors. To race side by side with my mentors and friends inspires me to no end, and I am very grateful for such a unique opportunity. Our next race is Bishop Rock, which is about 170 nm round trip. This will step things up a few notches, as well as prepare me for Guadalupe Island in March (EEEK!).

A Filmmaking Adventure to Catalina

I had the incredible honor of hosting two amazing young women on my boat this month. Erica Mellon and Elle O’Brien are college students, and aspiring filmmakers. They approached me for advice a few months back, wondering about tips on making a film about a sailing adventure they are planning (It seemed that they thought I knew what I was doing when I made my film). I promptly gave my disclaimer and shared my self proclaimed title of accidental filmmaker, but that I would, of course do whatever I could to support them. Their project is very exciting, and as they share more, I will too!

We had a Skype call to get to know one another, and I have to tell you, that it was love at first sight. The light and enthusiasm that shone through the cyber waves from these young women inspired me on the spot and filled me with deep joy. Within about 10 minutes I had invited them to California to have an adventure to Catalina so that they could get the feel for life on a boat, and also make a practice film in the process.

My gut feeling was right, because having them with me on the boat for 4 days was a delight. We sailed to Catalina and even ventured around the backside for another perspective. Our conversations were profound and connected, and these 20-something women had me reeling from their depth and awareness.

Being with them was inspiring and deeply healing for me. Their presence and connected ways reminded me of something I lost track of in my life, which added a beautiful missing puzzle piece to my healing journey. I am so grateful to them for reminding me.

I am so excited to see their short film on our trip, and for a lifetime of friendship and collaboration. Love you guys!

Retrospective

As I am gearing up to start my preparations for my 2nd solo journey across the Pacific in 2020, I have been feeling nostalgic. Nostalgic for Haunani and sad that all the work we put into her is lost. Thinking of doing that all over again is daunting.  It’s time to start a new list on a new boat though and dig in. There are also new goals and new things to learn. This year I will attempt to do all of PSSA’s winter races including the famous (and treacherous) Guadalupe Island race. Over 600 miles and half of it a gnarly beat up the coast of California in the winter. I am actually weirdly excited!! 

anyway, I digress......

This morning I came across a transcript of all of my journal entries from my trip in 2016. It made me realize that I want to be more detailed in my writing next time. To be fair, it was so rough out there (except for a few becalmed days) that it was usually hard to make it happen. I think this is what spurred me to to a video log of the whole trip, which then gave birth to my short film. I am so grateful for all of the footage and the amazing memories. Even though these entries are brief, it took me back to read these, and made me even more excited to get out there again!  

July 2-19 2016 :: Aboard the fair vessel Haunani

 Day 1: (7/2)

Tacking out of the SF bay in quintessential conditions has me feeling as alive as I have felt in years! This very well could be the best thing I have ever done! I am truly in my happy place, and so is Haunani! A whale surfaced beside us as we crossed under the GG bridge, I believe to give her blessing. I cannot believe this is actually happening! I am on my way!

Day 2: (7/3)

I woke up today in good spirits, and am totally in awe of the fact that I am out here doing this. It is very cold and rough with 22 plus knots of breeze. it’s hard to move around the boat when its like this. We have about 188 miles under our belt so far

Day 3: (7/4)

It’s a beautiful moody morning. Chilly! We are right on course as far as I can tell and moving along on a close reach at about 8 knots! Haunani is amazing and we have gone over 200 miles so far! I am a bit queasy, despite my patch but enjoying it all nonetheless.

Day 4 (7/5)

Its cold and gray morning. No matter how I feel, mornings give me peace and inspire me to feel the blessings all around me..I am still feeling pretty sick, and very haggard and truthfully the swells are killing me. I seem to sleep a lot, and am feeling very lethargic. I still feel in a good mood though, and am enjoying life out here. 555 miles down as of this evening!

Day 5 (7/6)

The wind is shifting aft and dropping a bit. I felt brave enough to fly my spinnaker today. It was my 1st time ever doing it all alone, and I was very proud and happy about it! Success!

Day 6 (7/7)

The wind is light (10-12) but I was able to fly the spinnaker this morning. As the day went on we started moving more slowly. I feel much better, but am now faced with the monotony of little to no movement. It looks like a mill pond out here and I am realizing that an important part of the journey for me is to learn to be still with myself. i am in awe of the beauty that surrounds me out here transcends any I've ever seen.as my dad says "that watery disk is my place" 360' of sheer magic

Day 7 (7/8)

I still love this morning, but what a terrible night. The flopping of the main as we barely moved along was about to drive me insane. There were squalls flanking me this morning and some looked pretty ominous to the point that I reefed and braced myself for their arrival. They dissipated quickly and all of my hard work was for naught. Par for the course I guess….

Day 8 (7/9)

I saw 2 shooting stars last night…its was amazing! We are still moving slow. crawling along. I'm doing the wind dance. as of right now my GPS says I'll arrive august 30! ha! still loving it all though!!I am so content in my daily routine, and really love life out here. I didn’t expect to love it so much.

Day 9 (7/10)

whew! what a night! crazy rough and wild. Haunani is amazing and handled it like a champ. we are both well if not a little beat up.at least we made some tracks! We had to jibe in the middle of the night and it was the blackest black I have ever seen out there. It was surreal to say the least! Then today, I got to sail in front of a squall, and had a blast! We were hauling ass and surfing giant rollers as the wind pushed us along. I was laughing out loud and feeling so grateful to be out here experiencing this!

Day 10 (7/11)

beautiful morning! huge dark blue swells and an amazing sunrise. feels and smells different. I crossed half way today. I am celebrating even though I feel a little off. The good news is that we are making great headway, and I got to open my halfway treats from Barry. I was like a little kid at Halloween with the peppermint patties!

Day 11 (7/12)

Today is not good. It is hard to find anything positive to say. I feel like shit and am very overwhelmed. My tracker stopped working and I feel so alone out here. I am sad and emotional…feeling like a homesick kid at camp. And there are still 1000 miles to go. I am ready to get there already!

Day 12 (7/13)

Im feeling much better today. I have turned things around and am feeling more hopeful. The weather is warmer and I actually got some sleep. I don't think I have ever seen a more glorious day!!! the blues are so blue and the sun is bright. and a perfect breeze spiriting us to Hanalei!

Day 13 (7/14)

730 miles to go! Annoying rough seas today. I am so sore from hanging on. There seems to be no respite from the violent motion. Im ready to get there already!

Day 14 (7/15)

The wind is constant and we are moving out! we are hauling ass and having a blast. surfing up to 10 knots and heading towards Hanalei! 581 miles to go!!

Day 15 (7/16)

I'm better now but this day has been the suckiest so far. sea sickness huge nasty seas. big squalls. navigation confusion.lost 7 gallons of drinking water. ugh. I'm ready to get there already!

Day 16 (7/17)

I saw a double rainbow and I was feeling much better with less than 300 miles to go, then the autopilot stopped working and the boat did a donut with me on the foredeck. I had a horrible day.! I'm ready for people, fresh food and solid ground!!!

• after the fact note here….not sure why I didn’t mention that I was never able to fix it and had to use my backup wheel pilot for the rest of the trip. The old guy could barely steer in the rough adn windy conditions, so there was a lot of self steering and waking up to going in the exact wrong direction. I was grateful for him though, because he did help.

Day 17(7/18)

120 miles to go. I am feeling beat up after a hard few days and a very rough night. but very excited that I'm almost there!! it's surreal!

Day 18 (7/19)

Land Ho!! Seeing that beautiful island brought tears to my eyes. A full rainbow welcomed us in as we got closer to Hanalei. I could smell the earth. I can barely feel the feet under me as I get closer and closer.

Mother Ocean :: Home of Magical Mermaids and Beautiful Dreams

I met a magical mermaid sister today. It’s amazing to me how life brings people together. She is half my age, but from the moment we sat down, I could tell that we were kindred souls, and age did not matter one bit.  She joked that she meets people by being “stalker-y”, just because she likes their energy and wants to know them. In some situations people may get freaked out by that kind of thing, but I actually welcome it. I can already count 2 dear friends who have become my friends by being this way with me, and I have countless of my own that I “stalked” because I wanted to know them. Our techniques differ, but I wanted to take a moment and acknowledge that I feel that this “stalker-y” behavior is really just a version of following our intuition and surrounding ourselves with people who inspire or resonate with us. I am a firm believer in surrounding myself with people who lift me up and inspire me. Whether on a deep emotional level, or because they have achieved something I admire, I deeply heed Rumi’s advice: “be with those who help your being”. The more I do this myself, as well as allow others to approach me in this way, the richer my life becomes. 

Ever since I did the Singlehanded Transpac, and proclaimed my intention of wanting to support more women in getting on the water, I have been happily inundated with introductions to women who want to learn to sail. It is so exciting to hear of their dreams and goals, and to already see in my mind’s eye that they can achieve them, even before we sail together. Sometimes I think I am even more excited than they are.

I think I probably get more out of our meetings and sails together than they do. To see the light in their faces when they take the helm for the first time, or talk about their dreams of single handing a boat, or talk about getting their own boat one day, fuels me and reminds me of my own dreams. I can be transported back to the moment in 1999 when I singlehanded a keelboat for the first time, and a dream was born…which lead to the moment in 2000 when I decided to do my sailing certifications through US Sailing because I wanted to be a skipper and not just a crew…which lead me to the moment in 2004 when I decided it was time to take my sailing more seriously and buy my 1st boat…which lead me to the moment in 2013 when I bought Haunani and started sailing again after a five year hiatus…which lead me to the most fateful moment of all…when I decided to sail across the ocean alone, even though I had never done anything remotely close to that. We are all weaving a tapestry of dreams and goals, and we all have a hand in supporting each other in achieving them if we allow it. The strategic choosing, and the magical appearance of people in our lives that help us along the way is so wonderful…both from the perspective of supporter and the one being supported.

Today when this young woman was talking to me of her deep connection to Mother Ocean, it almost brought me to tears, and reconnected me with that place in myself that feels at one with the sea. In the end, all of this sharing, and supporting brings me back to our interconnectedness, and my deep belief that we are all here to lift each other up and “ to walk each other home”, as Ram Dass once said. I am so grateful for the tapestry that is made up of beautiful souls with whom I share this precious life!

Love Wins :: The Secret of a Successful Team

I was asked to give a little talk tonight at the Women’s Sailing Association of Santa Monica Bay (WSA). They had a speaker cancel so it was very last minute notice. Thankfully it is a casual crowd!  I will be speaking side by side with one of my favorite humans and sailing mentors, Kathy St Amant, to a group of women and men whom I admire and respect greatly. Needless to say, I feel very honored. They asked us to speak about racing in The Sunset Series, and our experiences of what it takes to put together a crew and campaign our boats. Since it is my first season, and Kathy’s umpteenth, we will have mostly different perspectives to share, but I believe that the common thread will be the way we view our crews and the experience of being on the water.

When I decided to race this year, I knew that I wanted an all-woman crew. People often ask me why, and my response is always the same. I am passionate about getting more women on the water, and what better way to contribute to that than starting with my own boat! Plus, I knew that it would be a positive experience, even before we gathered for our first race. I had a hunch that we would foster an environment of peace and mutual respect, that  we would have respectful communication, that we would lift each other up and support each other at all times, and, that there would be no yelling. Well, the no yelling thing is actually a rule on my boat, but I had a feeling that I would never have to enforce it! 

Please know that I have nothing against sailing with men, and in fact, I love it most of the time, and many of my mentors are men. I will say though, that sailing with an all-female crew is a pleasantly different experience than sailing with a mostly male crew. The energy is generally softer, kinder, more uplifting, more positive and more centered around personal and team growth. I am sold!! I chose my team based on the variety of experience we all encompassed, and the potential for us all to learn and grow together. The biggest “secret” about choosing my team was in choosing key people who were experienced racers who could guide our team, mentor me, and help me to become a better sailor. 

This is actually one of my secrets in life: Always surround myself with people who know more. This pushes me to learn and to always do better. I love being mentored and I love mentoring. This is why I chose my team the way I did. I fell in the middle of the spectrum on racing experience, and the circular nature of our mutual inspiration was amazing!

As I think about what I will talk about tonight, I think of all that my crew taught me. From the badass racers that are my tacticians to the less experienced racers (badasses in their own right), each woman taught me so many things! Things about: my boat, sailing, repairs, love, friendship, bravery, humor, sail trim, and humility. Every one of us showed up with an empty cup every day. We showed up open to what we had to learn from each other. Every one of us consistently extended love and warmth to each other and across the water to our competitors (even the ones who didn’t offer that in return).  This makes me more proud than any trophy or standing we could have won.

 As I wrote about in my last post, our season, and the experience of sailing with these amazing women surpassed every hope and expectation I had. To quote  Carrie, It was “pure fu*king MAGIC”!

I have officially been bitten by the racing bug, and am very excited for all of the adventures that await Team Cassiopeia and me! Our motto is Love Wins, and I can attest that it surely does!

Team Cassiopeia :: Our Last Race of The Season

Last night was our last race of the season in The Cal Yacht Club Sunset Series. I am so proud of our team. We finished 5th overall in our class (out of 19) in our first season as a team and my first season as a skipper in buoy racing. When we came together, we all brought different skills and levels of experience, and as the weeks went on, those were channeled into the well-oiled machine that is now our team. When we crossed the finish line last night, we were one, and that came from weeks of learning and growing together. 

Everyone came so far, and we came so far as a team. Through the support of these magnificent women, I became a better driver, leader and human. I witnessed each woman come into her own in her unique way: Gabriella, the “swiss army knife” Dorsen became a beast on the winches, was able to fix anything that tripped us up, and brought her unique magical light to us each every day! Carrie “fire eyes” Peters, stepped back into her natural place of power and strength as a sailor and tactician, and coached us all into being better, stronger and gnarlier! Debbi brought humor, wisdom and a calm energy to us all. She stepped into main trim and became a solid disciple of ole fire eyes on the intricacies of that role! Robin “bow rider” Mohilner graced us with her passion and pure light. She documented our adventures in imagery and words (see this video below and you’ll know what I mean). She stepped into whatever role was asked of her, and did it with grace and enthusiasm! Paula trimmed the genny and spinnaker with intuition and focus, and by the end, the finesse of a pro. Lara is no longer sailing with us, but she started our season out with a bang as our fearless tactician! Not only did we all become better sailors, but we became sisters. I count each of these beautiful women as my best friends and soul sisters. I have grown so much as a result of our friendship and connection, and to me that transcends everything else. Sailing is amazing, racing is fun, winning is wonderful, but the love and connection we all have is the ultimate blessing of this team.

Rumi says “be with those who help your being”….thank you my sisters for lifting me up and reminding me who I am and of that which I am capable! Thank you for being mirrors for everything from the tactical to the deeply personal. I am forever grateful to you all. I look so forward to our next adventures!!!! I LOVE YOU!