Honoring The Process

I believe that everything in life has an innate rhythm, nature being the most powerful example of this beautiful fact. I find that the older I get, and the more I listen to my own natural rhythm, the more smoothly things move in my life. When I think about my sailing path and all of the practice and learning that I am doing (and still need to do), I am reminded again of how important honoring my own pace and rhythm is.  This is not to say that I wont push myself or do things to stretch my comfort zone, but rather that I need to consistently remind myself to slow down and listen to what is right for me in any given moment. I treasure the advice of my mentors and teachers, but in the end if I am not true to myself and my innate flow, my practice will be less effective. If I push too hard beyond this natural flow, in order to prove something or appease another, it never feels right. After a lifetime of valuing others’ opinions and ideas more than my own, I intimately know how important it is to trust myself in this way so that all may unfold as it is meant to.

Right now what is resonating with me is methodically ramping up to the longer sails I need to do to prepare myself for my big crossing. In order to do this, I have been sailing almost every day since my boat has been back in action. They have been day sails, some long and some short. Some might say I am not doing enough, but I have needed these sails to re-build my confidence and familiarity with my boat and her ways. After 3 months of not being able to use my boat, plus many changes to her layout and systems, there is a new (and bigger) learning curve. I feel the need to respect that curve and take the time I need to build my chops back up. My actions and procedures need to feel solid in the most basic of situations, before I head out into a situation I have never faced before. There is so much to be said for muscle memory and repetition. My goal is always to build a solid foundation crafted out of repetition and practice, and then from there to expand into more complicated and taxing situations.

In reflecting upon this, I realize that this concept is deeply ingrained in me from all of my years of martial arts training (thank you Soo Bahk Do). The foundation, and the basics are always the most important part of our practice. Even in the most advanced black belt class, we practice our basics repeatedly. Through doing this religiously for many years, a very strong foundation has been created that allows me to step back onto the mat to this day (even after 7 years of not training) and be able to move with confidence and grace. It is the most beautiful thing to experience. I feel that my sailing practice is the same. If I honor and bolster my foundation, the rest will come in its perfect time and manner. When I am ready to leap into the next big push, I will know, and will then be supported by a sense of confidence that only going back to basics can bring.

That being said, I am feeling that I am almost ready to do just that, which will be in the form of my 400 mile solo qualifying sail. Every moment on my boat in the past month (not to mention my entire life) has been preparing me. Through slowing down and rebuilding though, I have learned so much… from the deeper nuances of sail trim to more efficient ways of economizing my movements, to embracing the idea of moving slowly and methodically, rather than feeling a press to rush and muscle through things. It has been a very valuable time for me, and by holding my intentions at heart while going through the process, I feel I have come much farther than I would have had I been pushing past the quiet places and not allowing myself to feel and listen to the wisdom hidden therein.

Entering The Darkness With Grace

When I decided to embark upon this journey towards The Singlehanded Transpac, I had laser sharp focus and determination. As the months went by and the work on my boat commenced, the laser started to bounce around and flicker a bit. It has even shut off a few times. To say that moving towards my goal of sailing across the pacific alone has been an emotional roller coaster would be a huge understatement. I am proud to say that I have been riding that roller coaster with all my senses highly attuned though, feeling every nuance from confidence and elation, to utter self-doubt and defeat. The process has been and continues to be a huge mirror for me. I can see myself so clearly as I navigate the ups and downs with my eyes and heart wide open. What I have been able to see and reassure myself about the most is the importance of allowing for every feeling. It is one of my greatest gifts (and to be honest, also one of the sources of my greatest pain). The gift part is what I am focusing on here though, because the dedication throughout my life to feel it all and face it all no matter what, is what has brought me here and what has given me the most strength in all of my endeavors, especially this one.

It is the new moon, and this phase always reminds me of new beginnings and darkness being infused with light. Its good timing because I am face to face with one of my biggest fears….being alone in nature at night. I have talked about the night in another post and how much the idea of being alone on the sea through the night scares me. I am about to face it head on as I set out on my 400 mile (solo) qualifying sail in the next month or so. What has helped me know that I can do it is not only my own deep knowing that if I stay present and feel it all, everything will be ok, but the people that I am so lucky to count as my mentors and friends. They have all done it and keep reminding me that I can too. The ones that actually admit how much it scared them the first time give me the most strength, because I know in my bones that I cannot deny that fear, or it will become bigger than I am. Instead of allowing it to dominate me, I am making friends with it. I will be having a conversation with fear until we are best friends and until being alone on my boat in the night seems like the most comfortable experience on earth. No more comfortable than every moment in life, but just like them, because I will allow myself to intimately know all of the parts no matter how scary they seem. I know I can dive into that darkness and come out holding a gem, just like in my life…but I have to take the dive…and I will.

“When you walk to the edge of all the light you have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for you to stand upon or you will be taught to fly.”

-Patrick Overton

No Fanfare

A lot of times sailing feels very dramatic and action packed for me. Whether in light air or heavy wind, sailing alone or on pleasure sails with friends, there can be so much energy, chatter, thinking, music and movement that the experience is electric. I love and feed off of this energy, but there are times when I seek something different. Yesterday I headed out for a solo sail, and without even realizing it, Haunani and I collaborated on creating just that. We created an air of pure quiet. It was not a quiet devoid of energy or power (for those things seemed almost magnified to me in a new way). Unlike my last sail, I played no music, and turned my phone off. I sat quietly observing the wind, sails and instruments. I practiced trimming my sails in the light breeze and instead of getting frustrated right away that I was not making the boat move better, I patiently waited for the feedback I needed to learn the subtle ways of my beautiful boat. It was as if I was really listening to her and feeling her, instead of getting caught up in a flurry of my own activity and internal dialog. Everything seemed to slow down a few notches, and in this space, I could feel something very different happening. I was learning new things and feeling my way into them rather than muscling my way through them. A special friend of mine recently inspired this change . In observing his quietly confident and mindful ways in the world, I have somehow taken them in and tried them on. All I can say is that it feels really good, and I think it is already making me a better and more in tune sailor.

Haunani and I glided into our slip under the cover of darkness, and I silently and lovingly tended to the ritual of putting her away for the night. It was a beautiful end to a lovely day. As always, I bid her farewell with a deep thank you for taking such good care of me. It was somehow different than usual though, for as I walked away last night with no fanfare or conversation, I felt like a changed person. It will be interesting to see how the next sail feels!

the requisite selfie (or "boat phote" as my siblings teasingly call them) :-)

A Healing Sail

I know this is a blog about my sailing adventures, but a huge part of why I embark upon these adventures in the first place is because sailing brings me the greatest solace I have ever known. This post may not be about techy sailing stuff, but my emotional reasons for sailing are just as important to me (if not more so) than all of that learning.

I had a very emotionally challenging week this week. I wont go into the specific reasons, but I will say that it was a result of these things building up and not allowing myself the space to feel and process them. This has been a habit lately, and one that I am very aware does not serve me well at all. At any rate, a deep melancholy had set in and I could not shake it. I could think of nothing better for me to do than to set sail alone on my boat. This always seems to clear my head and create the space I need to sort things out (really to let them settle). My original thought was to go over to Catalina for a couple of nights with my art stuff and my journal, but the weather forecast wasn’t cooperating with my idea, so instead I set out on a long day sail. Apart from my attempted race a few weeks ago, it was my first solo sail in months. Within minutes of heading out of my slip, I could feel the confusion and sadness falling away. I felt a sense of joy bubbling up that only increased as the day went on, and only happens when I am sailing, especially on my own.

The wind was light but steady, and the horizon was moody with the potential of storms painting a dramatic scene. As I got underway, a light rain graced us and seemed to cleanse all that needed healing. I was actually sad when it stopped. The day was blissful and lovely…a vacillation between clouds and sun, wind and calm. No matter how light it got, I said to myself that I would not stop sailing unless my sails started luffing and flopping. We held out even to the point of moving along at .5 knots at one point. I guess my light air sail trim is finally getting better (see, there was a little techy sailing talk :-))

Accompanied by my favorite music, Haunani and I made a fine pair out there all on our own, far away from anyone else or the pull of earthly worries. I gave thanks for all that is beautiful in my life, and also for all that is challenging. The theme of the day, which I have re-visited many times in my life, was keeping my heart open despite the pain doing so can (and often does) cause. I say that as if I have a choice, because despite the very real risk of hearts closing down in the face of pain, mine seems to stay filleted open on the table no matter what. I am being a bit facetious here, but truthfully, despite the agony of that choice, I would never ever trade it for anything. The richness it brings far outweighs the pain, and I just need to remember to give myself time and space to feel all that comes along with living my life in this way. One of my heroes in life, Brene’ Brown speaks to this topic very eloquently (and if you have not read her work, please do yourself a favor, it will change your life):

“To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees – these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain. But, I’m learning that recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy, gratitude and grace.”― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are

I returned to the marina with a clear mind and heart, feeling grateful for every twist and turn of my life. It was a magical day only to be topped off by arriving home to a cheesy movie night and a surprise home cooked meal by one of my sweet soul sisters! Life is good!

magical pre-sunset light

my view from the bow while my amazing autopilot kept us on track

Keeping Passion Alive :: The Importance of Balance

A lively conversation that I had yesterday about sailing has gotten me thinking about balance. I wont go into the details of the conversation, but I found myself explaining (defending) my need for balance. I have always been a very driven person. For better or worse, whenever I decide to do something, whether it is a hobby, a career, or a relationship, I dive in headfirst and I dive deep. Although sailing has been a lifelong passion, I have certainly done that with taking it to the next level lately. I am very serious about learning and growing as a singlehanded, offshore sailor. I know that it takes dedication and practice, and I am beyond willing to do dive into that as I can. What I was able to get clear on yesterday though was that I will not do it at the cost of my love for or enjoyment of sailing. The whole reason I am doing any of this is because sailing feeds my soul (you can read more about that here)….from being surrounded by nature to the quiet reflective solace it provides, to the ability to push myself mentally and physically, to the utter relaxation and joy it brings…..sailing is my sanctuary. If I lose that by pushing myself too hard or taking it (or myself) too seriously, then I will have lost everything. I refuse to do that. Every experience on my boat from the most lighthearted and fun to the most intense and serious is as important as the other. I would never give up or trade any of them, because the balance that they create is what keeps my passion alive. Every time I head out of the marina, whether on a fun day sail with friends, a trip to Catalina, a race, or a solo practice sail, I say a prayer of gratitude and take a moment to soak in the blessing of being able to have this outlet in my life.

Full Moon Sailing :: Soul Food

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.

Tough Decision :: Aborting My First Big Race

I am not sure where to even start with my experience yesterday. I guess I will start at the beginning. When I decided to enter the SHTP last September, my sailing career took on a life of its own. Until then, solo day sails (albeit many) and solo trips to Catalina were the pinnacle of my singlehanded sailing experience.

As a way to train and learn, and take things to the next level, I joined PSSA (Pacific Singlehanded Sailing Association). I am so grateful that I did, because even at this early stage in my membership, this group has pushed me to learn and grow as a sailor in ways I cannot even explain.

heading out of my slip

Merely their existence as experienced and brave singlehanded sailors is inspiring, then you add the actual experience of being surrounded by them all on their boats at the start of a long race, and the expression “being humbled” takes on a whole new meaning. I was sincerely taken aback yesterday as we all gathered and swarmed for the start of our race to Bishop Rock (about 100 miles offshore). I was so proud to be a part of it, and felt pretty good as Haunani and I crossed the starting line neck in neck with all of these experienced guys.

preparing for the start (in the midst of badasses :-))

We all headed out, and fairly shortly (as usual) Haunani and I were at the back of the pack. I still felt good though, and we carried on, taking in the beautiful day. The wind came up a bit about 30 minutes out and I was getting overpowered and pushed down into a big tanker. I needed to be able to point higher and make my boat perform more efficiently. I first reduced my headsail and traveled my main way up, to see if that would help. It did for a bit, and I was able to clear the tanker. It soon became obvious that I needed to reef my main as well though. I noticed at the start that two of the guys were already reefed. I wish that I had followed suit. When I reefed, I had a few embarrassing snafus (thankfully I was alone) involving my new 3rd reefing line getting stuck around my boom and an accidental 360. It was not pretty, and I was a sweaty mess by the end of it all. I did get Haunani reefed though (even if it was NOT in record time), and we were on our way once again. It was a beautiful day, and I was thoroughly loving being out there. The afternoon light started to soften, and I was marveling at what we were actually doing out there. Despite my lifetime of sailing, I have never sailed a distance like this, nor through the night….let alone by myself!  As we sailed along, I noticed that my new autopilot was not holding a course as it should. We were rounding up and zig zagging. I hand steered for a while and that was much better (so I knew that my sail trim was ok). I was getting hungry and was in need of warmer clothes and the head, but couldn’t leave the helm. When I did my boat would round up and basically stop. It was very frustrating to say the least.

As the frustration set in, so did all of my fears and self-doubt. I started to imagine the night, and how I would handle this issue as well as all of the other unknowns that lurked. I have AIS and radar, but truthfully have never had to trust in them as a safety measure in order to sleep without worrying. I was afraid I would never sleep, and I was already exhausted (I had not slept well the night before because of nerves). This little cocktail of emotions and exhaustion was what sent me spinning off into a bit of a melt down. The tears came, and then came the “what do you think you are doing out here” self-deprecatory thoughts. I went down every road from feeling I was letting myself down (as well as my Dad…and Thomas who had worked so hard in the days before my race to make my boat ready), to the fear of being judged by my fellow sailors, to “imposter syndrome” (those of you that have it know what I am talking about :-)). It was a negative spiral and I knew I needed some perspective. I called my dear friends Thomas and Silvia who had just been out on Thomas’ boat to watch the start, and they were both extremely supportive and offered calming and sound advice…mainly not to beat myself up and to do what I felt was right. I then called my Dad and Jaime, who both said the same. That is when I decided to turn around and head home. I was completely mortified to have to call in on the radio to announce in front of all my fellow racers that I was quitting. It was a very hard moment for me, but also a necessary one, so I bit the bullet.

Despite the agony of making the decision, I am glad I headed back, because my autopilot continued to give me problems (even worse at that point). Despite this, we had a beautiful sail home and it provided some quiet time to reflect on what had just happened. I realized that technical difficulty aside; I was not ready for that trip. I had not sailed my boat (except 2 short sails in super light wind) in almost three months. I had done a lot of sailing on other boats, but not the kind I needed to do to prepare for this trip and keep my chops up. I was rusty, and as a result, my confidence was not where it needed to be to tackle something so big and new. I also did not give myself sufficient time to learn and become familiar with all of my new electronic equipment, including my autopilot. It was a bit of a scramble at the end to even get me off the dock yesterday.

What I learned through all of this is that I have a very solid foundation, but in deciding to take on this new level of sailing, I am once again a beginner. I have to be patient with that fact. The way through it is practice and exposure, and knowing when I need to back off….like yesterday. I have become healthily aware of all that I have to learn, and am very committed to learning it. The next month will be filled with long practice sails, and deep study and practice with my new equipment. Everything is always all about growth and the process for me, and a big part of that is embracing and learning from the tough stuff. Yesterday was one of those times and I am very grateful for it!

Haunani and I tucked safely back into our slip around 7:30pm

my very short lived trip recorded by my tracker

Thanks to my dear SIlvia for capturing these shots

Clearing Out The Cobwebs

It has been a long time since my Haunani has been out of her slip for a sail…almost 3 months to be exact! During that time there has been a flurry of work being done upgrading her systems and overhauling everything from electrical wiring to rigging. Thomas and Jerome have both been working so hard getting her ready for my season of racing with PSSA, and ultimately for my big adventure, the Single Handed Transpac in July. Yesterday I was so excited to head out for an afternoon sail with Jerome and Thomas to go over the operation of my new NKE autopilot as well as to make sure the other new electronics were all performing as they should. We had very little wind, but it came up enough for us to move along a little and accomplish what we needed to do. As much as it was a sail with an official purpose, I cherished the opportunity to have my dear friends and mentors out on my boat if even for a couple of hours.

Thanks to my sister Silvia for capturing these great images of our little sail!

heading out of the marina

Expanding Horizons

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..]

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!

No More Waiting

I am not sure when complacency finagled its way into my days. It’s unsettling to me and I have been trying to find what it is that I am supposed to learn by this turn of mood. When did I start waiting for things to happen? Where did the bright spark go that has always driven me through my days as I do even the most simple of things? I know there is an ebb and a flow in life, and I should really GET this after 48 years, but this ebb has seemed so extreme. It is as if I have lost my bearings in a huge expanse and do not know where to turn for direction. So I am just floating. There is discomfort in the floating, yet it has taken hold and until this morning anything else has seemed taxing and scary even. 

My usual solace in times like these has been taking to the sea aboard my beautiful Haunani. She is unable to help right now though, as she has been sitting in her slip, torn apart and without a rudder for the past 2 months. The reason for this (upgrading so many things for my upcoming sailing adventures) is very exciting, but the reality of being without her has been challenging, especially when I feel as I do right now. I am so grateful to my friends with boats who have taken me out with them over this time, but as wonderful as those sails have been, there is nothing for me like the medicine of being out there alone, on my own boat.

I feel like I myself have been without a rudder the past few months, with little or no control over my path. Its as if I have been temporarily blind to all of the resources within my reach, as well as the ones within my own being. Thank God something shifted this morning and a veil has lifted. I can see and feel what is around me more clearly, and it feels as though things are coming to life. Not unlike a limb waking up after being asleep. I feel tingly and uncomfortable, but also excited at the prospect of movement.

I suppose January 10 is a perfect day then to jump whole-heartedly into this exciting year! NO MORE WAITING! I have never been a wait-er, and my brief dip into the waters of this lifeless place was enough for me. That’s not to say I will not be patient, but I will be actively patient, and at the core of that action will be self-love and self-nurturing. It will not be the kind of action of years past that drives me to the point of depletion and pain; it will be gentle action that always remains in sync with my inner compass.

SO...here is to trusting that compass. Here is to truth: speaking it, living it and allowing it to guide me. Here is to trusting the power of vulnerability and not recoiling from its aftermath. Here is to valuing myself more by trusting myself deeply and taking a stand when I need to. Here is to being fierce and not throwing myself under the bus for another’s comfort. Here is to actively honoring the grace and beauty that exists in every moment of every day. Here is to loving without fear. Here is to creating. Here is to listening, and making space for the muse. Here is to honoring all that I have created and worked for in my life by relishing in each and every detail and blessing. Here is to cultivating good health.  Here is to joy, peace, contentment and bliss: may I see that these things always exist if I allow them in. Here is to asking what I can do each day to be of service in even the smallest of ways. And finally, here is to trusting my strength, skills and wisdom enough to know that I can embark on the biggest vision quest of my life on July 2, 2016.

Horizons

I have been thinking a lot about horizons lately. I think looking out at the mid-pacific horizon every day for the last 10 days (since I have been on my home island of Hawaii for the holidays) has accelerated that. Not only is it a familiar and soothing sight from my childhood, but also a new awareness about it has emerged in me. As I look out each day at that immense delineation between the tropical sea and sky, I am viscerally reminded that in 6 short months I will be literally surrounded by nothing but this sight for many days on end.

There is so much possibility that lies in the horizon. It represents literal possibility as well as a metaphoric one, which is so cool, because this entire journey for me from day one has been (and continues to be) both of those things.

The literal is obvious: developing new skills, overcoming technical challenges, increasing my physical fitness, performing new kinds of mental gymnastics, preparing my boat, and so on. The metaphoric is more mysterious, because so much of it is unknown, or invisible, like what lies over the horizon. I know that the nuggets that will come from the soul searching of this endeavor are things that I cannot even imagine or fully grasp now. I have unearthed some gems already as I prepare, but I know that nothing will compare to the moment I set sail alone and lose sight of land for the first time in my life.

It is perfect that a new year is starting as I reflect on the magnitude of all of this. I felt it fitting therefore, to officially register for the SHTP yesterday as a symbol of my commitment and intention. I am very excited for what the horizon of my next 7 months holds. The vision and intention that I am personally holding very sacredly in my minds eye is one of my beautiful Haunani carrying me safely into Hanalei bay sometime in mid July 2016!

Happy New Year to you all!

the horizon from the northwest shore of the Big Island of Hawaii

Learning. Learning. Learning

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.

Tim plotting our first leg

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

Our trusty instructor, Eliott

stormy Isthmus Harbor

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

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.

My morning with Dad's log

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!

an early morning reading session. finishing Jessica Watson's book, True Spirit

Whats currently on my nightstand:

Here are the links to some blogs I have found inspiring and informational: 

http://www.donnalange.com

http://whitespotpirates.com

http://theboatgalley.com

http://www.sailing-women-on-yachts.com/sailing-offshore.html

http://www.jessicawatson.com.au

http://yachtswoman.blogspot.com

http://indefinitelywild.gizmodo.com

http://www.rebeccaburg.com

The Exciting Journey of Removing My Mast Partner (just a tad of sarcasm here)!

I have always loved manual labor and getting my hands dirty, and when it involves a sailboat, I am seriously happier then a pig in sh*t!  My Dad took sailboat maintenance to an art form (and perhaps even a form of meditation), and thankfully I was steeped in that mindset from a young age. I don’t think I will ever be as meticulous as he was with his boats, but I do my best and have fun along the way!

Thankfully I get to work with my dear old friend Thomas, who doesn’t mind me hovering while watching him work (anxiously waiting for something to help with). He is so generous and gracious about it all. His knowledge and skill level are unparalleled, and. I have learned so much in the past two months of pulling Haunani apart to build her back up again. It has been an incredible journey! The project yesterday was remove the mast partner (the collar of metal that holds the mast where it passes through the deck) in order to re-seal and re-seat it to prevent leaks. It had been leaking pretty badly, and after my last wild sail, and a small waterfall down the mast inside the cabin, I knew that it was time to address it.

The first phase of this project took about half a day, and was fairly tedious and frustrating. Thank God for the ridiculous banter between Thomas and me, which kept the mood light (and masked the annoying fact that it took hours to pull out only a small amount of old sealant). Raising the partner only ¾ inch took many tools, a ton of elbow grease and a fair amount of cussing (and it was NOT from Thomas).

Today we will go back and clean out the remnants of the old dried goop, re-seal the area between the mast, deck and partner, then re-seat it with some nice new fasteners that will be much easier to remove if there is ever a next time.

Hitting The Ground Running :: Haunani's Preparations So Far

On September 9, 2015, something big shifted for me. That was the day that I realized that my dream of sailing to Hawaii alone would become a reality. I think most of you have read the story of the fateful conversation that re-lit that flame for me. If not, you can read it here. I have had the goal of doing this trip before my 50th birthday, and if all goes according to plan, I will be setting sail in The Singlehanded Transpac 1.5 years before that big milestone!

reaching into marina del rey after a beautiful sail

Since that day a couple of short months ago, it has been all-go around here. I kicked it into high gear with boat and Margie (more on what that entails later) preparations. As I have done so, I realize more each day how much needs to be done (and learned). I am so blessed to have an amazing support system, ranging from my loving family, to enthusiastic friends and blog followers to my mentors and the experts who work with me on my boat. This would be beyond daunting without them!

As I write this, my boat is pretty much torn apart. To give you an idea of the scope of the preparations I am making, here is some of what is going on so far:

The rudder is off for inspection (and as it turns out, due to moisture in the rudder and expense of a repair, I am getting a new elliptical rudder), the main hatches are being replaced, the aft cabin is open and bare, ready for all kinds of electronic installations, the most exciting of which is my new NKE autopilot. I am very grateful to my biggest supporter, my amazing Dad for this incredible addition to Haunani. This system will give me so much peace of mind, as I embark upon a season of singlehanded racing, and then of course, my big trip to Hawaii in July. NKE is an impressive company that has been manufacturing high-tech autopilots for more than 30 years. You should definitely take a look at their website to get a sense of how badass this piece of equipment really is! Jerome Sammarcelli, of SAILUTIONS in Marina Del Rey imports and expertly installs these systems and will doing so with mine soon! He has used and installed many, including on his own boats, and swears by them.

being a TOTAL geek withI my new autopilot!!!! I am SO excited!

the rudder coming off...it did NOT float. It was a big job for the diver

my rudder in the divers boat

one of the samples drilled to test the rudder

we found a crack in the rudder post cap/emergency tiller insertion point

a drawing of the new rudder

the forward hatch coming off

my chart table area and old panel partially stripped of the old set up 

The New Panel...who knew I could get so excited about something like this??

My long time friend, Thomas Lehtonen (expert marine electrician/all around boat guru/sailing badass), will also be installing an AIS (Automatic Identification System), a repeater display for my chart plotter and radar down below, a new VHF radio (with all of the latest safety features), a new stereo (because I NEED my music), and a Sirius marine weather system. Along with all of that, there will be an entire re-build of my electrical panel, and a reorganization of my chart table area. There will be more to come in phase 2 (solar panels, a hydro-generator and a wind vane/emergency rudder), but this is it for now.

As far as sails and rigging go, I purchased two new sails, that I have never had on my boat before: an asymmetrical spinnaker, and a storm jib (which will be used with a moveable baby stay).  I had 2 additional reef points rigged in my main sail for a total of 3 (we rarely need more than 1 for Southern California coastal sailing). Obviously there will also be a very comprehensive safety inspection of all of my rigging as time goes on. My boat is sturdy, but she is old, and has never done any kind of offshore sailing before, so she and I are learning and growing together as we prepare!! I am involved with as much of this work as possible (at the very real risk of annoying the crap out of my team :-) ) and I am grateful to learn many new things each day.

Whew, as I read back on all of that I realize how much is already underway in a short amount of time. With the whirlwind of activity and improvements to my beloved boat, has come a certain amount of overwhelm for me personally. One of the things that stands out for me as the most important lesson stemming from this overwhelm, is the importance of being assertive and confident in all of the decision making. I know a lot more now than I did 11 years ago when I bought my 1st sailboat, and I have learned even more than that in the last 2 years of owning and sailing Haunani (both on my own and with crew). I have logged a lot of hours on this boat, and I know her very well, so this round of work on her is so much different than when I first bought her and was fixing her up. I was pretty much flying by the seat of my pants, and was much more likely to trust what someone else thought was best without thinking it through because I didn’t have the experience I have now. I tended to think that everyone else had all of the answers since they were “experts”. While on one hand that is very true and valid (I am lucky to have amazing experts to trust), I was discounting a very important expert….ME. I have a history of having a bad case of self-doubt when in the company of people who know more than I do on any given topic, and sailing has been no exception to this annoying habit. It becomes debilitating at times, and as I become a more experienced sailor embarking on more serious off-shore adventures, I am realizing how important it is for me to step up and own what I know and take charge in the decision making. This is not to say that I all of a sudden think I know everything, or that I will not rely on the expertise and experience of my mentors, but it is to say that I will be believing in and relying upon on myself MUCH more when it comes to what is best for me and my own boat. I am lucky to have people on my team that are extremely respectful of me and listen to and carefully consider my opinions, but I have to say that it has not historically been the case. This is partly I am sure, because of my own lack of confidence back then, but also because sadly, there are still those people in the sailing community who think that being a woman somehow translates into weakness or “isn’t that cute she has her own sailboat-itis". Anyway, I choose not to focus on that, but would be dishonest if I did not include that as part of my experience.

The bottom line is that Haunani is well on her way to being ready for phase one of our adventures. Our second PSSA race is on January 23rd, 2016, and by that time we will have done lots of practice sails to learn our new equipment and will be raring to get out there together!

Our First Real Winter Sail

We have had some big winds and seas (at least for here) lately, and the other day I decided to head out with a few adventurous sailor friends to see how my boat would handle it all. It was blowing 18-20 knots at my dock, so we reefed the main before we even left so it would be in place and we wouldn't have to mess with it as we headed out. I am glad we did, because as we headed out the main channel of Marina Del Rey, the winds were about 22 (or more) knots. We decided to go for it and hoisted the reefed main inside the breakwater and headed out.  As we rounded the breakwall, we immediately became aware of the huge swells that we had to deal with. It was a bit wild and crazy out there! Once we got out far enough, we unfurled our jib but kept it reefed a good amount. As we got going Haunani got into her groove and handled the conditions very well. I was in seventh heaven!!

One thing she did not handle well was the constant barrage of waves coming over the boat. I proved to myself for once and for all that I indeed need new hatches, because within minutes the interior of my boat was soaked. We were also soaked topside. I took one huge wave in the face and was immediately inspired to don my foul weather jacket (I think I was being a tad optimistic/stubborn in not putting it on at the outset). I was so happy out there, and apart from getting a little queasy when I let someone else steer, it was an exhilarating experience!

I was happy with  how my boat handled the seas and the wind, as well as to be personally challenged by a rough and wild day! I am so grateful to my crew that day, and was so happy to tuck in to our slip and toast our sail together when it was all said and done! We looked up the wind after we came in and the Santa Monica buoy reported winds up to 27 knots during the time we were out there. I forgot to check the swells, but they were massive and getting bigger as we came in.

My buddy Brian and I (heading home downwind down the main channel at 7.5 knots)

My 1st Singlehanded Race :: Palos Verdes to Ship Rock (Catalina Island)

Well, I did it! I completed my 1st PSSA Race! I’m trying not to downplay it, but I have done this sail so many times before, that it is easy to try and make it small in my mind.  Truth be told though, despite the familiarity of the sail, it was a big 1st step for me to actually race. It really did feel new this time…. like it was the start of something big. I had a totally different sensation leaving the marina that morning. I actually had butterflies. It felt like I was heading out on a first date with a really cute guy. I was giddy and my breath kept catching as I motored out of the marina. As I pulled out of my slip, I came up behind my friends Jerome and Charles, aboard Charles’ Class 40. We were motoring to the start at PV 10. It was kind of surreal to be right next to that boat the whole way. She’s a beautiful and sleek creature, and couldn’t be more opposite from my boat. Imagine being at a stop light in your trusty old truck, and looking over to see a shiny new Maserati next to you. That’s what I love about PSSA though, that it has a place for all types of boats and sailors, allowing sailors like me to feel welcome and to have a place to learn and grow next to super experienced sailors and high tech racing boats alike.

Charles Calkins' Class 40 heading out to the start

I had about 2 hours on my way to the start to think about the race and prepare myself for a whole new approach to sailing to Catalina. I blasted the requisite bagpipe music in honor of my dad and all of our races together aboard Scottish Fantasy II (where this was the tradition before each race). I also called my Pop for a little pep talk. Until this day, I had only skippered one race in my life, and that was on my 1st boat, with a full crew and an experienced sailor coaching me through it all. The idea of this start was totally stressing me out, because starts in general have always confused me, and this one was a “rabbit start”, where one end of the start line was a moving sailboat. I understood it in theory, but I was a bit overwhelmed to be honest. Not to mention, I was on my own. I arrived to the starting area about an hour early, and spent that time tacking and jibing around to get my chops up to par. By the end of that hour, I had my little system back down again, and was ready to start. It’s a bit of a tricky dance to handle the jib sheets and maneuver without the autopilot while tacking in tight quarters, but one that always makes me feel challenged and gratified as I get the steps dialed in once again.

Thankfully one of my dear old friends, Jaime was in the race as well, and I asked him if I could follow him around to get the hang of setting up for the start. He graciously agreed, (but not without reminding me that we are racing against each other :-)). We all checked in at 11:30, and the next 30 minutes flew by. We were all swarming around watching the rabbit boat and trying to figure out when to make a move towards the start. I for one was sweating and breathing hard with all the maneuvering and abundance of nervous energy in my body. Then all of a sudden, it was 12 and we were all somehow across the line and on our way. It was an amazing feeling to be in the midst of all of these experienced sailors and their beloved boats. I was very quickly left in the dust, but I didn’t care, because I was so happy. My girl was moving along quite well, and despite my autopilot failing me, I had a great sail over. I finished at 3:20, behind almost everyone, but again, I didn’t care, because I was ecstatic with having completed my 1st solo race. I was utterly exhausted by the time I picked up my mooring. I had a cold beer, toasted my girl, and jumped in the water to celebrate a great day.

The rest of the evening held great camaraderie and a warm welcome from the other PSSA sailors. I loved meeting all the guys at our post race barbeque, and was so happy, after a long and festive night to tuck in aboard Haunani for a good night’s sleep in one of the most magical places on earth.

 I finished 4th/4 single-handed sailors. There were 8 other boats racing as well, and they were double handed. As much as I am not in this for the racing, I do hope that with each race I will learn and improve my tactical skills. I am grateful to all of the other PSSA sailors, to my sailing friends and mentors who are always so generously supporting me and answering every little question I have with patience and love, and especially to my Dad for always being with me in spirit.

PS......there is a very amateur video coming soon :-)

happy me about an hour out (and yes, the bimini and barbecue are coming off soon :-))

all tucked in at the isthmus after a wonderful day

Engine 101

I am NOT an engine person, but when you have a sailboat with an engine, its kind of a requirement to become at least somewhat of an engine person. I used to look at my engine as a faraway exotic land, with customs I could only dream about understanding. As time has gone on though, and through the guidance of one of my dearest friends and mentors, Thomas, I have started to learn her foreign ways. The best way for me to learn is first hand. I should be careful what I wish for, though, because with two back to back overheating issues, I got a crash hands on course recently.

Yesterday I was returning from a weekend in Catalina with my amazing friends/crew, and about 5 minutes out of the Isthmus, we over heated...AGAIN. Smoke was pouring out and my temperature gauge was pegged. I had just had the engine fixed, so it was beyond disconcerting. Anyway, with a  speaker phone tutorial from Thomas, and support from my crew in handling my boat in super light wind (a little too close to land for comfort), I troubleshooted and fixed the problem. Some would say that the problem itself might have been my biggest stress, but it was actually my fear of getting sick while working down below in swelly warm conditions (sadly I get sick sometimes, and when it happens on my own boat I get so upset), thankfully that did not happen this time, and I was able to replace the spewed coolant and broken belt and get the old girl singing again! Sounds simple, and in fact it is, but being my first time attempting such a feat, it felt huge. Anyway, I feel really grateful for the experience and as always am happy when my boat is all fixed up and healthy!

wondering how in the hell I am going to get this thing to fit :-)

the ladies holding down the fort and sneaking photos while I got my hands dirty :-)

Humble Pie

Today was my first solo sail in quite a while. Since I have officially decided to embark upon this adventure of sailing to Hawaii alone, I have been thinking about my solo sails very differently. Every solo sail before now has been for pleasure, and without any particular purpose. Today took all of that conceptualizing (the only thing it could have been because my engine has been out of commission the past 2 weeks) to a new level. I was finally on my boat alone,  and there was actually a significant amount of wind (which surprised me since my trusty predict wind app said it was only blowing 8-10knots). I quickly realized that I was not just on a pleasure cruise, but was rather practicing for my upcoming solo races and adventures. Everything that wasn’t working became really magnified and I started to think of it all so differently. I was especially thinking about efficiency of movement, and since I was clipped in (I promised my dad today that I would not sail alone without my PFD/harness anymore) it was not as easy as usual. Also, it was a totally impromptu sail, and I wasn’t even wearing what I would normally wear, I mean, I had a sundress on for God’s sake, and no shoes. Plus, I had my 2 dogs with me, (which always adds an extra level of vigilance for me, even though they wear life jackets and are tethered into the cockpit). Anyway, it was not what I would call a relaxing sail. I had to be focused, and I quickly realized that I was out of practice. I was rusty, and I was not as centered as I should have been. Even though the conditions were not horrible, I was handed just enough weather to give me pause and remind me of what I somehow, in my haste to get out on the water and rusty-ness, had forgotten….that I need to approach each sail with mindfulness and intention. I was fairly gently, but necessarily humbled today, and was reminded how important every detail and every action is. In a 3 hour sail, I got very clear that I need to reframe my approach, and get serious about practicing. I learned a lot today:

-that I need to make strengthening my body (especially my core) a huge priority.

-that I need to figure out how to most securely and efficiently keep myself tethered to my boat…..even in these solo day sails in Santa Monica Bay

-that each solo sail from now on has to be more focused and I need to make sure I am very centered and prepared before I step on my boat.

-that my dogs cannot be with me when I am practicing.

-that I need to reorganize my cockpit and economize my movements more than ever before.

-that wearing a sundress is not really the best sailing attire, especially in 18 knots of breeze. :-)

All of that being said, it was a very fun sail. My girl was honking along at up to 7.5 knots, close hauled with a reefed main. That is fast for her (especially at that point of sail) and it felt good to stretch our legs a bit. I am praying for wind like that on Saturday for our race. It will be my 1st PSSA race, my 1st race on this boat, and my 1st solo race. Lots of firsts!! Thank goodness it is a familiar trip (to the Isthmus on Catalina Island), and I will be in great company with the rest of the PSSA gang.