Full Moon Sailing :: Soul Food

February 23, 2016 by Margie Woods in inspiration, personal reflection

Yesterday was the full moon, and I got a wild hair and decided to grab some friends and head out at sunset to enjoy it on the water. Since my racing debacle last week, I have been feeling particularly tender and in need of being on the water. My goal has been to get back on the “horse” and get out there every day. It has been the best medicine ever!

We left the dock around 5:30pm and cruised out of the marina into a beautiful California sunset. There was no wind at first, so we motored out, but as we made our way past the breakwater and into the bay, the wind started to come up. Soon we were under full sail and cruising along at 6-7 knots. The moon rose dramatically over the city, while the unseasonably warm northerly breeze kept us trucking along. We were the only boat as far as we could see, and the feeling of sailing out into the darkness with the giant yellow moon in our wake was euphoric to say the least. I could have stayed out there all night, and wish I could have! It is a night I will never forget and will go down as one of my favorites of all time! Sailing always heals me, but this sail in particular went very deep. I am so grateful to my lovely friends for joining me and sharing in such a magical experience.

happy campers after passing the grueling written exam!

Expanding Horizons

February 10, 2016 by Margie Woods in inspiration, education

Teaching has always been one of my deepest joys and inspirations. It seems that no matter what my passion at any given time in my life, I always end up gravitating to teaching. From martial arts, to portrait photography, to art journaling, and now to sailing, I simply cannot resist the pull to be a teacher.

I have always taught my friends about sailing, as much as they wanted to learn and to the best of my ability, but it has never been in an official capacity. That all changed when my friend Elliott, the owner of Bluewater Sailing asked me if I would be interested in teaching sailing at his school. Once I said yes, the whole process took on a life of its own, and I continue to be on my way to achieving that goal. I have had many days of “ride alongs” with other teachers, as well as informal training sessions on his fleet of Catalina 22’s, and most recently completed the ASA (American Sailing Association) Instructor Qualification Training and certification with Captain Wendy Sarnoff here in Marina Del Rey.

The instructor certification course that I took (ASA 201) qualifies its graduates to teach the ASA Basic Keelboat course. The certification and class itself involves two twelve-hour days, with equal time in the classroom and on the water. During that time, there was much to complete. There was a comprehensive written exam, demonstration of boat handling skills and hands-on teaching demonstrations (both on the water and in the classroom) that had to be completed. There was no stone left unturned, I can assure you!

Captain Wendy expertly guided us through the whole process. I was consistently impressed with her ability to seamlessly blend her expertise, experience and teaching wizardry with compassion, patience as well as a strong hand when needed. She is a true inspiration to me, and I look forward to spending more time with her in the future! The other guys in the class were great too. They each brought their own flare and level of experience to the table, and enhanced my experience ten fold! All in all, I couldn't have asked for a better experience!

I learned so much about sailing, teaching and of course, myself in this intensive weekend. I am so grateful to each person that was a part of it, and look forward to jumping into teaching at Bluewater Sailing very soon!

this exercise was brilliant....acting like boats as a tool to teach wind direction

being silly after a 13 hour day and completing our certification!!!!!

feeling exhausted but very proud and happy. I love Captain Wendy!

Growing Up [Just a Little..]

January 23, 2016 by Margie Woods in inspiration, practice sails

There are those times in life when things come into immediate and sharp focus. Yesterday (January 20) was one of those days. I went sailing yesterday with my dear friend Jaime aboard his beautiful Jeanneau Sunfast 37. Jaime and I have done a lot of sailing together, but not for many years (9 to be exact). Siince I bought my 1st boat in 2004, he has been one of my most influential sailing mentors. I am going to write more about him in our interview next week, but for now, suffice it to say that he is one of the most revered badasses in my life. Jaime is a self taught sailor, and one of the best and most safe that I know. He has taught me so many things, which to this day are a big part of my own sailing practice.

He is a bit injured, and Haunani is not ready yet, so we decided to team up to race double handed on his boat in the next PSSA race on Saturday. Yesterday we headed out on a practice sail as an opportunity for me to get reacquainted with his boat after all of these years. As we left the dock, he said “you are in charge today”. It felt a little awkward, but as I got into my groove, it was natural and seamless. He listened respectfully to me, and agreed with (almost :-)) everything I decided to do. We had a great sail, and as we were coming back to the dock, he told me that he could really tell how far I had come since the last time we sailed together, and that I have my “shit together”. These words were more meaningful than I can express, especially coming from him. It is always a beautiful experience to see myself (and my progress) through another’s eyes, and in this case it was especially powerful, because Jaime is really the only person who has sailed with me (as an adult) enough to gauge how far I have come. My own eyes (upon myself) can be rather harsh and unforgiving at times, so receiving this compliment was very validating for me. The main reason being the realization that, sailing skills aside, I have actually grown up a lot in the past 10 years. I know that sounds funny coming from a 48 year old, but I could immediately feel the difference in my own energy when sailing with Jaime this time. When we sailed together in the past, I tended to be very defensive and as a result a bit un-receptive. I think I was trying VERY hard to prove myself (probably to the point of being obnoxious), and surely missing valuable things I could have learned, especially from someone like Jaime. As a young woman, I always sailed with older men, and many times they weren’t very respectful of my abilities. I had to fight to be recognized as competent, and this fight continued way beyond when it actually needed to, especially with sailing. I am afraid that Jaime got the brunt of that intensity back in the day (when he was the last person that deserved it). He always respected me, and only corrected me or gave me feedback when I needed it…which I am realizing now that I needed more than I realized.

I wish I could better convey how deep this realization has been to me, but the bottom line is that I am so grateful for the humility that builds with age, as well as the space that it creates for true growth and learning!

P.S. Since I wrote the above draft, I came down with a terrible flu and had to miss our race which is starting right as I post this. I am so sad to miss it, but send all my best wishes to all of the PSSA racers today. I am with you in spirit!

Learning. Learning. Learning

December 18, 2015 by Margie Woods in inspiration, practice sails

I have always been an avid learner and seeker. People who know me well know that when I decide to take something on, I dive in head first and will stop at nothing (and maybe even become a tad obsessive :-)) to learn as much as I possibly can on the topic. I have certainly been a life long student of sailing, but since deciding to do the SHTP, I have taken that drive to a new level. I wrote a bit about that in a previous post, but that was mainly focusing on book learning. I recently decided to take a hands on class to bone up on my knowledge of navigation, weather and night sailing. I did this by taking the ASA (American Sailing Association) Advanced Coastal Cruising (ASA 106) through Bluewater Sailing in Marina Del Rey. Fifteen years ago I completed the comparable certifications up through this point with US Sailing, and though I opted not to go for the certifications this time, it was a valuable experience. I definitely learned some new and important information in this course, mainly about navigation, effective use of radar, and how to better keep the boat balanced in big winds and seas for the most effective performance (as well as minimal pressure on the rudder). Another important thing I was reminded of, is how much I actually do know, and how trusting that is just as important as seeking support and new knowledge.

The class was comprised of 2.5 classroom days, and 3 nights on the water with 3 other students and an instructor. The goal was to plan a voyage from start to finish, and undertake all of the tasks to make that happen. I was lucky to have great crew-mates and a great instructor. Sadly, however, I started off the trip fighting a bug of some kind, which I am convinced contributed greatly to my 2 days of seasickness.

Intermittent seasickness aside, the trip went well, and despite not feeling at all like myself, I enjoyed a lot of the beautiful moments that only being at sea can provide. We headed out of Marina Del Rey on a Wednesday afternoon around 4. We got to put our radar to the test, as we were blanketed in thick fog for the first hour of our journey. The fog lifted just in time for sunset, and from that point on we enjoyed a beautiful cruise (under power) up to Paradise Cove, where we anchored for the night.

Carl on foghorn duty coming out of the marina

staying warm in my awesome new Gill gear (thank you Jerome!) before all the sickness set in

We all stood an anchor watch, and being the last one (lucky me), I woke everyone at 6 the next morning for an early departure. Our original plan was to go to Santa Barbara Island, and then to Cat Harbor, but given the intense weather that was developing to the northwest, we decided to abort that plan and head straight for Catalina in case we needed to seek shelter from the storm. Seeking shelter was indeed what was called for, and we ended up on a mooring at the Isthmus for 36 hours or so. It was the roughest ride on a mooring I have ever had, but I was glad to be there in safe harbor because the winds ended up building to 30-40 knots, and there was a substantial swell to contend with. We were one of only 3 (non-company) boats in the harbor, and the dinghy docks and gangways from the main dock were removed to prepare for the weather, so there was no going ashore for us. Bobbing violently around on a mooring with 4 (albeit very cool) other people on a 41-foot Hunter was NOT my idea of fun, and only exacerbated my looming motion sickness. Finally after 2 nights in Two Harbors, the weather improved and we set sail for Marina Del Rey at 4am Saturday morning (to get our requisite night sailing time in). I was overjoyed to wake up and feel semi-normal, so I greeted the chilly early morning with enthusiasm! Once we got out past the lee of the island, we realized that despite the improvement in the weather, we still had some serious conditions to contend with. The gusty 25 knot wind was basically on our bow, and the swells were about 10 feet. This did not make for a comfortable ride at all, and forced us to motor sail (with a very reefed mainsail) for quite awhile. After about 45 minutes of this, the seasickness took hold of me again, and it was way worse this time. It did not let up for 8 more of the 10 hours that we were out there. It was total torture for me on so many levels. I have been queasy here and there, but have not thrown up or been debilitated from seasickness in 30 years (when crossing the Alenuihaha channel from Maui to Hawaii Island with my Dad). It was a very humbling experience to feel that way again, and caused my mind to spin off in many negative spirals, questioning my entire sailing career as well as all of my current goals. I even wandered into a debate with myself about whether or not I should even keep my boat. I was feeling pretty bleak despite the beauty that surrounded me, but that's how badly I felt, and how much the seasickness was skewing my sense of reality.

here we are on the way to Catalina, round one of queasiness behind me

About an hour out from Marina Del Rey I started to feel better, and was able to take the helm as we returned home. It helped to focus my mind and feel the breeze in my face. The weather was sunny and beautiful, and we were under full sail by then. The closer we got to home, the more my queasiness lifted, and I was once again in love with sailing and all of the dark and ridiculous thoughts had passed.

I am grateful for the patience and compassion of my crew-mates, as well as the inevitability that seasickness passes. It is truly one of the worst feelings of all time. I know I am prone to feeling this way, but sailing alone helps keep it at bay due to the intense focus and responsibility that comes along with that endeavor.....so there is another reason on my list of why sailing solo works so well for me!

sunrise over the big swells. So beautiful! I am glad I was able to grab this shot despite my nasty queasiness

Inspiration Abounds

December 05, 2015 by Margie Woods in research, inspiration

Since I officially decided to prepare for my big adventure, (sailing in the Singlehanded Transpac next year), I have been reading everything I can get my hands on about sailing, single-handing, navigation, weather and ocean crossings. I have found so many inspiring blogs (see links below) and books that I am currently devouring. I am reading everything from the most technical instructional books to the most personal accounts of life at sea. I am currently on a tear with solo circumnavigation stories. I have taken to waking up at 5 or 6 in the morning and tucking back into my bed with my little dogs and a cup of coffee to lose myself in these amazing tales of self-inquiry, courage and adventure. I am so incredibly inspired by these brave souls who not only put themselves out there to have these experiences, but also to share their personal stories. I already knew this in my guts, but the common thread that I am finding is that these solo voyages are transformational on a very deep level, and not solely from the standpoint of technical accomplishment. I am certainly not discounting the magnitude of the technical part, but what interests me the most is the deeper, emotional part of the journey, so I am happy to glimpse others’ expressions of this. I am sure people who know me well are laughing that I just explained that (hello, obvious), knowing that I don’t do much in my life if not from that place. I certainly wouldn’t be undertaking all of this solo off-shore sailing unless it promised to reveal a deeper knowledge of and intimacy with myself.

One of my favorite documents out of all of the things I have read so far, is my Father’s log from his first pacific crossing in 1975 aboard Scottish Fantasy, a Westsail 32. I love that my Dad still has his log. It is perfectly typed out (I imagine transcribed from his beautifully handwritten log) and bound. I feel like it has been waiting there in his files all of these years, for me to discover and read at the exact right time. I was thrilled when he sent it to me last month, and immediately read it cover to cover in one morning coffee sitting.

His log is a perfect blend of technical data and emotional reflections. The scariest thing (it seems) that happened on the voyage was hitting an unknown submerged hazard. Thankfully the boat was fine, but the sound of it gave everyone a huge fright. To this day they have no idea what it was, but the unanimous guess was that it was a log. Thankfully it was not a shipping container or something that could have caused real damage. On one of Dad's crossings, they had a near miss as they sailed past a mostly submerged shipping container (now I know why hitting a floating container is my Dad’s largest worry for me on my trip). I loved reading his descriptions of everything from the constellations, to the weather, the serenity, the loneliness, the physical challenges, the technical boat stuff and of course, the blissful rewards. My Dad is a beautiful writer, and even in this “official” format of a ships log, his poetic style shines through. The most touching moment for me was when he was reflecting on how much he missed us (I was 8 at the time), and our Mom who was pregnant with my baby sister. I actually got all teary (shocking, I know!).

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to the desire to document and reflect upon my life’s adventures. The format has changed, but I think of this blog as much the same as Dad’s journals about his voyages. I am grateful that I have a platform like this to reflect upon and document my journey!