The Shaka Challenge :: PSSA's inaugural singlehanded transpacific sailing race

Right now, I have 8 friends sailing alone across the Pacific Ocean!! If you count all of the new friends I made at the start of the Singlehanded Transpac, the count goes up to 22! Four of these sailors are my dear compadres from The Pacific Singlehanded Sailing Association's inaugural Singlehanded Transpacific race, The Shaka Challenge. Bill, Matt, Patrice and Larry all left Marina Del Rey one week ago. They are about half way across now, and I am dying to know how they are doing! 

The sendoff was a wonderful affair! It was a beautiful Southern California morning when we all gathered at Cal Yacht Club to bid them bon voyage. In attendance were PSSA club members (a few of whom are singlehanded transpacific veterans) and throngs of families and friends there to support our guys. Cassiopeia and I were lucky enough to be the race committee boat, so I had an amazing perspective as the racers sailed by us and headed off to sea. They are sailing for the island of Oahu and will arrive in a week or so (give or take depending on the boat).

I am tracking them obsessively (heres the link), and wondering all the while how they are doing. What are they feeling? How are the sea conditions? Do they find it as magical as I did? What is their favorite thing about being out there? I cannot wait to ask them all of these questions and more when they get back to LA. Meanwhile I am sending all my love, energy and support their way! 

Singlehanded Transpac 2018.... and a few deep thoughts!

I just watched the sun set over San Francisco bay, leaving the Golden Gate bridge as a glowing silhouette. This view is always stirring, but tonight it touches me more deeply than usual. Today I watched my friends, some old and some new, all intrepid sailors, sail under that iconic bridge and out to sea. Today was the start of the 2018 Singlehanded Transpac. The last of the light is gone now, and all I can do is think of them all out there on their first night of many, alone at sea. 

 Every moment today brought back visceral memories for me. The most poignant of which was when Carliane pulled away from the dock. As she turned back and waved at all of her supporters, I could not hold back my tears. I know the magnitude of this moment is no different whether male or female, but I feel more kindred with her, because like me, she was the only woman in a sea of male skippers setting out to sea alone. Our feat is not different from that of the men, but the fact that women are rare in these races aligns me with her, as two chain links encircling one another do to make the chain strengthen and grow. It also motivates me further to lure a record number of women to be with me at the starting line in 2020.

I wrote that on June 23rd, from my brother’s home in Tiburon, CA. I never got around to posting it for some reason, but today, when a handful of racers have finished in Hanalei, and it hit me that Carliane is about 24 hours from the finish, I feel moved to do so.

When I saw her proximity to land today, more memories started flooding me, and my excitement for her (and all of them) became palpable. I can still feel it, the bittersweet realization that landfall is imminent. This will be her last sunset at sea, her last sunrise, her last starry night. I can feel all of that stirring my own soul. Also, the excitement to make landfall and hug those we hold dear, but the simultaneous mourning of the last taste of a freedom that I am sure I will never be able to put into words. I don’t profess to know how she is feeling, but I am so grateful for our connection and that her journey has sparked in me of so many important realizations about my own…mainly that I want to go out there again. Now I can feel why people are called to make this crossing over and over again. The pull is strong, and I can only assume (and hope) that there are more answers out there to the questions that tug at my soul. 

My thoughts and mojo are with all of you brave sailors as you trickle into Hanalei Bay this week. I wish I could be there with you under the tree, but instead, I am with you all in spirit!!!

I will close with a quote from one of my new friends (and favorite sailors), Bill Meanley, who is making the crossing again as we speak, and is also within a day of land:

 “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is out here today because that might jinx us.  So I won’t mention the warm, steady trades blowing 15-20, the seas smoothing as the cross swell diminishes, the beginning of puffy tradewind clouds, the vast expanse of the sea all around with no hint of the distant civilization over the horizon, just the soft moan of the wind, the sound of breaking waves and of clear blue seas rushing past Dolfin”s hull.  I can’t tell you any of this because then Mother Nature might take it away…..But I can tell you is it’s pretty nice out here.”

Carliane leaving the dock, shot between heaving sobs

Pt. Dume and Return :: A Wonderful Day on The Water!

Photo by TAMI RAE of LOADED CANON

To say our team is flying high after Saturday’s race, would be an understatement. Not only was it an incredible experience on the water, but we placed 4th out of 12 boats in a class of very accomplished and experienced racers. I entered this class because I knew we wanted to use our spinnaker, and I erroneously thought the other class was non-spinnaker. I also am more comfortable with this kind of longer distance race, so it didn’t feel quite as intimidating as the shorter buoy races. That being said, I also knew we were jumping in with the big dogs! As nervous as this made me, I felt it would be a good way to push ourselves! And push ourselves we did!

The start was very exciting, as we were much more in the mix than usual, and there were more boats (or so it seemed). My nerves were holding up pretty well until I found myself sandwiched in tight quarters between two boats with skippers at the helm whom I know and admire. All of a sudden my belly was doing flips and my knees were shaking. Despite my nerves, we maneuvered well, and it felt good. I have to commend Lara on her strategy and coaching at the start, as we definitely had one of our best! The only thing that I regret is that I couldn’t get up to speed like I wanted to after we crossed the line, and we were quickly left in the dust. Not for long though, because we tacked away from everyone and out to sea (which was Lara’s and my original plan based on our gut feeling and research of wind prediction before the race).

This proved to be a good call, as we moved really well up the coast towards Malibu staying outside. The breeze was stiff (up to 20 knots at times) and at one point we became very overpowered as my boat often gets. I tried reefing the headsail first based on a recommendation of my sailmaker, but quickly found that my original thought of reefing the main and keeping the genoa out was a better call. Once we did this, we started pulling away from the boats around us, and were able to point again. We had to shake out the reef about 30 minutes later as the wind came down to 9-11 knots, but that decision to reef gained us considerable headway. As we got close to our mark in Malibu, the wind dropped to almost nothing, and it seemed that we, and all of the boats around us came to a screeching halt. As we prepared to tack around the buoy, Lara wanted me to tack tight in front of another boat, and I wouldn’t (couldn’t). She was a beautiful wooden boat, and I was convinced I was going to hit her if I tacked that close. As much as I trust Lara, this was a time when I had to let my own feelings take over. She assures me we wouldn’t have hit (and I do believe her), but she also reassured me that she respects when I need to over-ride her based on my own comfort level. This is an example of what I LOVE about our boat. We are always communicating and clarifying, so we can all grow and keep a calm respectful vibe on the boat.

After we rounded the mark at Malibu, we headed out to sea again on the hunt for pressure. Once we found it, Jana and the foredeck team got the spinnaker up and flying.  Jana Davis doesn’t normally sail with us (even though I wish upon a star every day that she could), but she was able to on this race. She is a foredeck wizard and an all-around amazing human being.  She brought all kinds of knowledge, humor and good juju to our boat, and we are so grateful for her! We were able to run down the coast at a good clip for a while with our spinnaker full and in doing so, we were neck and neck with some great boats. We have an asymmetrical spinnaker, so we were unable to head as deep as we needed to and we started to head away from our mark (out to sea) more than I was comfortable with. That coupled with the wind dropping a bit lead Lara and me to the decision of losing the spinnaker and heading dead downwind, wing and wing to our mark. This was apparently the ticket and what I believe actually made the difference for us in placing as well as we did. We started moving well, and making a solid course towards our last mark at the breakwater. Right about at this point, Tami Rae of Loaded Canon with Eddie Hollister at the helm of a very badass looking skiff approached us. They zoomed all around us taking pictures while the ladies acted as a human downhaul on the whisker pole (I forgot to rig a downhaul before we left). I have included some of her amazing photos of us below. If you haven’t checked out her work, please do. Her images are beautiful! Please check out her work here. Also, if you want to see more photos from the day or buy prints, the link for her gallery from this race is here. Also, I will have an interview featuring her coming soon to my blog!

It just after this that we heard a “mayday” over the VHF. Our hearts all skipped a beat and our boat went silent as we realized that one of the boats in our race had lost a crew overboard. They had also lost their rudder and were unable to get to her. The mood aboard Cassiopeia became very somber as we all listened intently and sent out prayers for her speedy retrieval from the chilly sea. We were too far to have been able to help, and there were other boats closer, so all we could do was to continue sailing and hold her, and their crew in our prayers. You could have heard our collective cheers and screams from far away as we heard that she had been pulled out of the water by a fellow racer. It gave us all pause and generated a hearty conversation about PFD’s and boat safety. We are so happy that she is ok!

As we got close to the last mark, all of the boats that had been in front of us on the spinnaker run were now behind us. It wasn’t a huge lead, but it was big enough for us to be able to round the mark first and make it to the finish line before them. It was very exciting as we all converged and tried to finish a race in little to no wind. Making it to that last mark basically consisted of the waves pushing us there. The wind came up just enough for us to power up to the finish. We finished within inches of another boat which was extremely exhilarating!

As we cranked up the engine and headed down the channel for home, we were passed by Whitney Green on Pacific. Whitney shouted out, “nice race Margie”! I was completely blown away and humbled by this. We have only met a few times, and I’m sure she doesn’t realize that I have always looked up to her from afar. Her words meant so much to me and were the icing on the cake of a wonderful day!

As we toasted our day and had our ritual debriefing in my cockpit, I looked around at these strong and unique women with such gratitude and awe. Each had given everything they had all day long, and together we sailed a great race. We didn’t know how we had placed at this point, but we felt so happy with how we sailed, and our collective joy lit up my slip!  The theme of the day seemed to be trusting our intuition. I know that the few times that I trusted my gut and made calls based on that, that it proved invaluable. I think Lara had the same experience. I see this as another opportunity for me/us to look at how important it is to sail my own race and not get caught up in technicalities (shoulds, or supposed tos) or what others around us are doing. We proved to ourselves today that following our gut and making calls that may have seemed strange in comparison to our competitors was the right thing for us. In the end, this is a great metaphor for life, no?

All images
by TAMI RAE of LOADED CANON

Light Air and Big Learning Curve

We had our work cut out for us yesterday for our Wednesday night race! The wind was very light, so we knew it was going to be a challenge, and by the end of the evening, we found ourselves in an accelerated learning program for light air sailing! As we headed out, Lara took the helm and did a lot of practice tacks and jibes to get a sense of Cassiopeia's maneuverability. As she did this, I realized I couldn't chicken out anymore....no more crying wolf that Its too tight when she wants me to tack or jibe close to another boat. There was a lot of laughing as I called myself out on my phobia. Joking aside, it was actually a worthwhile thing to do, because I was able to understand the space and maneuverability of my boat in a new way. I finally have hope that I will get over my nerves about this. I called Lara's exercise "desensitization therapy"....and it certainly was.

We were a little late to the line on our start, but had good speed nonetheless considering the conditions, so it turned out OK. The wind stayed light but consistent on the course until we were just about at the windward mark. I was struggling with steering the whole time, and was grateful for all of the experienced sailors on the boat who kept me on point and helped me! Its is so hard to steer in light air, and I am so excited to get better at it. Yesterday was a perfect day to practice! I loved listening to Carrie as she coached the genoa trimmers on sail trim. She was recently called our secret weapon by Neil Fraser (of Mexican Divorce who has known her since she was a kid), and I know he is right! She trims our mainsail like nobody's business, and is always contributing to what is happening on the boat with her extensive knowledge of all things sailing. Once we rounded the mark, it became so light that it was hard to fly our genoa, even with a pole. All of the boats around us were struggling with the same issue, and their crews were performing all kinds of weight shifts, acrobatics and sail configurations to try and eek the most out of essentially NO wind. We would get excited if we started moving at a speed of more than 1.5 knots! It was fun to hear and try my crew's various light air tricks and tips. As the dark of night consumed the post sunset glow, we were almost to the breakwater. At this point we were getting really excited because the wind came up to about 3 knots and we were moving better than we had been in a while. As we rounded the channel markers however, we were back to floating forward at a knot or so. It was so quiet and still, and the sight of all of the die hards around us trying to make it to the finish line by the cut off time was so beautiful. The ladies on the foredeck did their best to pole out our headsail, but in the end human “poling” was what worked best-three ladies holding  the sail out to try and catch any wind that was available. It wasn’t much, but we actually kept moving (though I could have walked faster). If we had had five more minutes, we would have made it to the finish, but alas, 8:30pm rolled around just before we made it.  As we rolled up the headsail and I cranked up the engine, the mood aboard Cassiopeia was enthusiastic and jovial despite the conditions and our DNF! 

We were lucky to have Carliane Johnson aboard our boat as an honorary team member. Carliane is going to take off in about six weeks on a huge adventure that is dear to my heart….the Singlehanded Transpac.  She learned to sail later in life, and is essentially a self-taught sailor, but her tenacity, dedication and resulting mad skills makes it seem like she has been doing it for a lifetime. By throwing herself into racing and single handing at every opportunity, she has become a very admirable sailor and racer. You can read more about her badassery in my interview of her here.

I am blown away more each time I sail with these amazing women. I feel so grateful for each of their energy, wisdom, humor, love, prowess and enthusiasm. I cannot wait for Saturday, when we will be sailing in the Del Rey Yacht Club’s Berger/Stein series, Pt. Dume Return race. Im hoping this year is a little less wild than my experience last year (you can read about that here)! We will be sailing against a lot of very experienced racers and well sailed boats out there, so this will be a wonderful challenge for us!

All photos by Robin Mohilner

Wednesday night racing and our first win!

There exists a very bizarre thing that has been a constant phenomenon in my life. I make vehement proclamations that I’ll never do something, and then next thing you know, I am doing that very thing!!! Two of those examples come from my sailing life. I would tell anyone who would listen that offshore sailing wasn’t for me….”I have no desire to do that”. “I’m just a day sailor” (or at the most, a Catalina voyager). Well, we all know how that turned out! The other thing I would always say is that “I am not a racer”. Somehow I didn’t count PSSA races and then later the SHTP in this statement, mostly because I was out there doing those things for the adventure of it, not the racing aspect.

Well, I have finally admitted that I am indeed a racer, and all of a sudden find myself campaigning Cassiopeia in not only PSSA races, but the sunset series, and the Berger Stein series. I am sure there will be more, because I have definitely gotten bitten by a bug, and I cannot stop the train. I suppose it is in my blood (thanks Pop!), and I cannot deny it anymore!

We have participated in two races in the sunset series so far, and I could not be happier with how we are doing. Our team is amazing, and just as I had hoped, we all bring a variety of experience and know-how to the table. The common thing we share is a desire to support each other in being our best in each moment. There is an air of enthusiasm, mutual support and encouragement each time we all meet, that sets the tone for a positive experience around the race course! It is a safe place for us all to learn and try new things, and I do believe we are all benefiting from that. It feels so good on our boat, that I told them after our last race that I was falling just a little in love with all of them!

Last week, we actually took 1st in our class, and I am excited to see what this week holds for us! I am so proud of this spirited yet humble group of women who grace the decks of my Cassiopeia! As with most things I proclaim I will never do, and then do anyway……I feel that something important is brewing here. For me, I know it is a big shift in perspective and a huge opportunity for growth as a skipper, sailor and teammate!!

Thank you my lovely badass ladies!

Catalina To Port: A PSSA Race

From the starting line located near Palos Verdes buoy "10PV", leave the West End of Catalina to port, finish when Catalina East End light position 33 18.1162N 118 19.0570W is within 0.5 NM and bears 350°M from the helmsman's position. The skipper shall take his (or HER...I added this :-) ) own finish time. Handicap distance 41 NM.

 This is my 3rd year racing in The Pacific Singlehanded Sailing Association’s Catalina to Port race. I doublehanded with my boyfriend, Stephen. It was our first time doing this in a race, and we were very excited about the opportunity to share in this experience. I absolutely love this race, because of the varied conditions and points of sail over the course of a day, but mainly because the backside of Catalina Island is a magical world. It’s uninhabited and dramatic coastline makes one feel light years away from the intense energy of LA. And if you look to the right, you can see my favorite sight of all time, and without obstruction……the horizon over the wild Pacific!

  Our start was at 11am off of Palos Verdes point. I was very happy to see so many boats out there as we approached the PV buoy. We had eight boats all in all, 3 doublehanded, and 5 singlehanded. DIstraxxion, Jeff Coyle’s XP 44 was our rabbit boat. She always takes my breath away when I see her sleek lines and powerful rig! If Jeff weren’t such a wonderful guy, I might feel pretty intimidated by the sight of her!

We had a bit of a rugged start, but once we got on track, we were moving quite well. The winds were light at first, which caused a bit of a confusion for me as we tried to figure out which tack towards the island was favored. We made a mistake by heading out on a port tack for too long. Distraxxion, Velocity  (Thomas' Hobie 33) and Katin (Jason's Jeanneau Sunfast 3200) headed the other direction and it became apparent to us pretty quickly the mistake we had made. One thing I learned from that, is to be more patient when the wind is light, and not feel pressure to DO something about it, but rather to allow it to show me the way. Despite our bad call, we were moving along well towards the island once the wind filled in and we were on a starboard tack, and made it to the west end of Catalina by about 3pm. We rounded the island and headed out to sea for a bit trying to get into a good position for our downwind run towards the East end.  With our spinnaker flying well, filled by a steady breeze, we made good way down the coast (even though I was still kicking myself because knew that the aforementioned three boats had left us in the dust). It was fun to be out there flanked by the rest of the fleet though, who were at various positions around us, flying spinnakers of many colors.

 Brian on Slow Poke (Ranger 23T) kept all of the boats connected and communicating all day by checking in with us to see how we were doing. It was fun to hear how everyone was faring, and especially to get the report from the boats ahead that there was big wind around the point coming into the east end and our finish. We heeded this warning and doused our spinnaker just in time. The wind was up around 20 knots by this time and right on our stern, and we were able to move quite well wing and wing with mainsail and a reefed genoa the rest of the way. At one point (see the video below) I was steering us along towards the finish, and I was overcome with gratitude, not only for the majesty that surrounded me int hat moment, but also for all that I have learned as a sailor in the past four years. So much has happened, and so many lessons have been learned. Some were hard and some were magical, but through them all I am still so blown away that I am able to be out there in the wild blue, surrounded by nature in this way. It brings a tear to my eye as I write this. There is nothing like it anywhere else!

 We finished around 7:30, graced by one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. The sight of the sunset over Church Rock and the East End is probably my favorite thing about this race! Church rock seems the most appropriate name, for I felt I was in the most sacred house of worship in that moment. After we finished, the wind shadow of the island slowed us to a peaceful pace, and we cranked up the engine and headed into Avalon for a much needed and well-deserved meal at the Lobster Trap.

 I am as always, so grateful to PSSA and all of its seasoned sailors for the opportunity and inspiration to learn and grow as a sailor. I am also grateful to Stephen for being such a great teammate and for teaching me so much along the way. I am hoping that my autopilot will be ready for me to singlehand the next race in May, which is the Santa Barbara Island race.

Go Team Cassiopeia!

As much as I love sailing, racing, and buoy racing in particular, has always intimidated me, especially the starts! I think it is a combination of PTSD from so many intense starts and races with my super confident and competitive (read: proficiently aggressive) Dad at the helm, and a lack of confidence with tactics. Longer races are so different, and even in those, I am mainly flying by the seat of my pants (and as I told the race committee who wanted to place me in the more experienced class….being a big chicken at starts and following people over the line). That is slowly changing though, and being a skipper for the first time in the Sunset Series last night is already helping to build my confidence!

As I mentioned in my last post, the decision to race came to me in a moment, and within a week I had assembled a wonderful crew of women. Our experience and personalities run the gamut, and after being on the boat together yesterday, I can see that we are going to make a great team! There is already an air of supporting each other to grow not only as sailors, but in our personal lives. A personal example for me is in the seemingly never ending challenge of trusting myself and what I know (not down playing my skills and playing small). I can already tell that these women are going to gently yet strongly help me past this life-long challenge.

We headed to the start with a lot of time to spare, practicing our tacks and jibes, with our faithful Robin (now dubbed bow rider) on the bow calling traffic and such. Lara and I got into our groove with communication and timing, while the rest of the crew got up to speed with their jobs. Lara is so calm and confident, and helps me to stay centered. She was on top of the timing and guided me expertly towards our start! Carrie and Gabi developed a seamless operation in handling the genoa sheets with my undersized (and underpowered) winches. Carrie was on the main trim like nobody’s business. I teased her that I could see the fire in her eyes the minute we started sailing. She hasn’t sailed in many years, but let me assure you that nothing has been lost. The woman is amazing and her contributions to tactics and sail trim are invaluable…not to mention her humor and fierce competitive spirit!

We were in the last class to start (cruising B, non-spinnaker), so we had the benefit of being able to clearly tell who was in our class and where they were on the line. We pulled a risky maneuver and started on a port tack at the pin. If we had had more wind, it would have worked better, but as it was, we were a bit slow. As a result we weren't able to cross the boat on the line closest to us and therefore had to tack away because they had rights (they were on a starboard tack). This ended up being ok though, because we were able to pull away from them and push them up a bit to get moving on our way to the mark. We had a short course, and did fine heading up to our weather mark.

My only regret is that we didn’t motivate to use our whisker pole on our way downwind. We haven’t had time to practice with it, and my pole is a bit messed up. The last time I used it was in the middle of the Pacific, and on a different boat, and it has some battle scars.

We placed 4th out of 11 boats in our class, and I am so excited about that!! Not too shabby for our 1st race! No matter the outcome, we had a great 1st race, celebrated by a big enthusiastic toast at the end of it. I, for one was celebrating our amazing crew, and a job well done! I am so very grateful for this opportunity, and to be able to sail and grow alongside these strong and talented women! The thing that I am the happiest about, is that we truly are a team. We are there to support each other in very way and the energy between us is one of real respect and support. There was no yelling or criticism, which for me is a welcome bit of fresh air. I am very excited to see what this season brings! I imagine growth and friendship will be at the top of the list!

The ladies!!!!

photos by bow rider (aka: Robin Mohilner)

A New Adventure for Cassiopeia and Me!

The wind is coming up early and strong for a Marina Del Rey morning. It is gorgeous and clear from where I sit in my new apartment overlooking the marina, but the wind is somehow unsettling. The cacophony of clanking halyards and howling wind is making me feel antsy.  It always amazes me how the wind can be so disconcerting to me when I am on land, and today is no exception. It feels eerie and dramatic, especially for 7 in the morning. Perhaps if I turn my thoughts to the sea and all of the adventures she promises, I will feel less ill at ease. Truth be told, I cannot wait to get back out there. Soon, I hope!

Cassiopeia and I are working towards that goal now, as we slowly ramp up our game. I have been sailing more lately, and as I slowly emerge out of the haze of the past months, I can see in my mind’s eye my next sailing goals and dreams materializing. My sailing adventures fell to the back burner for a while as I navigated some personal challenges. Slowly though, I feel the fire being stoked, and I can feel the horizon calling me again.

The most recent development is that I have decided to race I the Sunset Series here in Marina Del Rey. These races are our local Wednesday night buoy races put on by California Yacht Club, that go from now until September. I have crewed a lot in this series and other races like this in my life, but have never skippered my own boat in them. As I am sure I have mentioned here before, race starts intimidate me, and being in charge of a crew of people has always felt daunting to me. So, I decided to do it anyhow! Just as with all other decisions in my life, it just came to me one day that I should do this, and with an all-woman crew. So, that is what I am doing. Thankfully I have a lot of wonderful ladies in my life who love to sail. I have invited a crew of experienced racers and enthusiastic newbies alike, and I fall somewhere in the middle.  My goal in doing so is to create and foster an environment of mutual support and learning, so we can all learn and grow from wherever we fall on the spectrum.

A new and wonderful friend of mine, who is a very experienced racer has agreed to be my coach and tactician. I am so grateful, because the thought of going in cold and without support would stop me in my tracks. I couldn’t be more excited (or intimidated) about this new adventure. I have been taking a clinic on race starts the past 2 weekends. Last weekend I was coached by my talented and experienced boyfriend on his boat, and this weekend I will be sailing with my friend Lara for the first time to get our strategy and communication plan together for the season.

Last night I attended the seminar for the race series. I went alone, as none of my crew could make it. I will admit that though I saw some familiar faces there, I felt really intimidated. It reminded me for a second of how I felt when I walked into the skippers meeting before the Singlehanded Transpac. Everything sounded at once familiar and completely foreign and daunting. I know myself well enough to know that I need a hands on experience of all of this in order for it to start to make total sense. I have faith that it will, and have faith in myself that I will learn exactly what I need to exactly when I am meant to.

I am so grateful to my friends for being willing to embark upon this new journey with me. I feel so supported and so excited to have a team of strong women by my side as I dive into this new adventure! I know that we will all emerge better and stronger for it!

A little heartbreak........and a lot of excitement!

I have been absent from this blog, and even my precious boat for some time now. Life events and responsibilities have been pulling me away. There is not a moment that goes by, however, that I don’t miss the open sea or the blessing of writing about my adventures out there, and my heart is always pulled towards the horizon of both things.

Making the decision to abort my plans to race in the Singlehanded Transpac again in 2018, was one that wrenched my heart in a huge way. I felt so called to do it, and to recruit more women to do the same, as well as to document all of our experiences as a vehicle to inspire more women to embark upon amazing adventures such as this. My personal prayer and goal was to have a record number of women race in 2018 (a meager 4 would have done the trick) to make a start at bringing more parity to the race roster and the finish line in Hanalei.

I just found out tonight that there are now three women registered for the race this year. I knew about my friend Carliane (through whom I have been living vicariously in all of her race preparations), but learning of two other women was a happy surprise to me. If I am honest though, my heart broke a little when I heard, because I want to be there so badly. Also, if I (or any other woman) were registered, we would have our record year.

As I have written about a lot in this and my art blog, this has been a year of letting go for me. It has been a year of redefining so many things. Part of letting go has been about releasing what is not meant for me, to make space for what I need. The only thing I can do now as I nurse my aching heart, is to trust that my original decision is the right one, and that this is not my time. I am called to once again let go and allow what is meant to be to unfold gracefully.

I bow down to and celebrate each of the women and men who have registered in this year’s race, for that act alone is brave and powerful. I am grateful that the number of women on the roster of this historic race is increasing, and I hope to be able to interview each one before they cross the start line in June. No matter what, I am with you each in spirit, and will do my best to be there to cheer you all on at the start, and hopefully hug you in Hanalei at the finish of one of the most amazing things you will ever do!

The Trailer for my short film, Journey Back to Myself, is here!!

After a year of hard work, my short documentary about my journey across the pacific is finished! I am so grateful to all of the people who helped me to make this project come to life in ways I could have never imagined! The film has been submitted to various film festivals and so far has been accepted at The No Mans Land Film Festival in Carbondale, CO, and is also being presented as as an unofficial selection at The Waimea Ocean Film Festival. I am so humbled and blown away that this project has taken on such a life of its own adn is being so well received. I am excited to see where it goes! 

The website for my film is JOURNEYBACKFILM.COM. Stay tuned for opportunities to watch it in its entirety!!

Many thanks to my AMAZING and generous team (please see film website for the links to their bios and websites):

 Editor: Lauren Saffa

Creative Consultant: Chris Woods

Original Score: Chris N. Woods and Chris Lee

Sound Mix: James Berek

New Horizons :: A Clearing of The Clouds

A year ago today I was literally sh*tting my pants with nerves. I was about 2 days away from casting off into an adventure on which I had no idea what would transpire. As I wrote about in my blog then, there was the chaotic last minute boat prep scramble, and the nerves around what I was about to do. What I did not share, however, was that there was also a lot of personal turmoil going on during these days. I didn’t have bandwidth to acknowledge it back then (or I would have surely lost my mojo), but it wounded my heart and soul deeply. It STILL takes its toll on me, and I am frustrated with myself about that…and angry that I let it do so back then. It has remained a cloud over my journey for a long time, and am ready to clear it. I won’t go into details, but I will say that I need to let it go and wholly reclaim my journey for the huge and transformational undertaking that it was.

As the one-year anniversary of my departure approaches, I have been revisiting many aspects of my experience. The ones you see on my social media are the easier ones to share. This part is a bit more delicate, but to stay in line with all that I am embracing in the wake of my trip, I am called to honor all aspects of my experience, not just the “positive” ones

I have touched on my depression in the months after my return, but I never fully revealed the whole story for I am only now ready to admit the depth of it. It was partially due to the destruction of my beloved Haunani, but it was also due to this unresolved energy from an unfortunate situation that hovered over my trip and return home. That made it impossible to fully embody the joy that should have come from such a feat. I am finally coming out of my melancholy, and am feeling the lightness of life again and so I am able to begin to embrace the magnitude of what I actually accomplished. I am grateful to my years for the knowledge that everything is temporary (which is what got me through), but even with that, it has been an emotionally challenging year.

As I get Cassiopeia ready for the 2020 Singlehanded Transpac, I can see that I have a huge opportunity. I have the opportunity to have a do-over if you will, and at the same time to reclaim the gift of my original journey by relating to it differently. I am trying to hold these things as a banner of inspiration as I prepare myself.

It helps that having done this before, I feel much less angst as I ready my boat for 2020. I am able to approach the process with more awareness and finesse.  I am a significantly different sailor and boat owner than I was one year ago, and that alone makes me feel empowered. Due to this increased awareness, I can be much more in control of the process than I was able to be last year. I have more time and space in which to make thoughtful decisions. I also have much less of a budget to work with, which creates its own opportunity for mindful choices and prudence. All of these things make me feel more grounded in this experience.

The physical preparation is an important and necessary factor of course, but I am seeing that this time around, my emotional prep and care need to take a front seat.  I am choosing to take better care of myself as this next year and all of its responsibilities and challenges unfold. I am choosing to speak my mind more clearly when it comes to my needs and opinions. I am choosing to keep the energy around my boat and myself clean and clear of negative energy and the emotional turmoil that it inevitably creates.

These three things seem so simple, but they were things I did not so diligently attend to last time, and I was adversely affected by that. There is no way to go back and change the hard stuff, and even if I could, I would not trade the lessons that I received. What I can do is look forward and choose differently.

This is the year that I am turning 50. This is the year of stepping into my truth and strength fully. This is the year of listening to my gut and trusting it. I proved to myself beyond a shadow of a doubt by sailing alone for 2500 miles that I CAN TRUST MYSELF. Now it is time to live that truth on land! No more playing small. No more not speaking up when I know the answer. No more accepting crumbs and convincing myself it is the whole cake. No more putting others’ emotional needs before my own, or as I often describe it, “throwing myself under the bus for another’s comfort”. This is the year of finally understanding that what other people think of me is none of my business.

The ways that I have been supporting myself in doing this are many. I found hypnotherapy, which after 20+ years of talk therapy seems like a magic carpet ride to freedom. With the help of an expert team, I took all of the footage from my journey and turned it into a short documentary. Watching the footage over the past year slowly and firmly planted in my soul the affirmation that I indeed sailed alone across a vast and stormy ocean, and into my own truth and power. Releasing this film into the public eye and allowing others to witness my experience is a bold (and scary) move for me of reclaiming my journey for my own. Grieving the loss of Haunani over the six months of her deconstruction allowed me to acknowledge how she healed me, and also to let go of her so that I could allow space for new adventures on a new vessel. Grieving the loss of a love and the illusion that I created around it is still a work in progress, but is allowing me to learn about self-forgiveness more than anything else. This is probably the single most important lesson that I feel called to learn right now.

Just as it did on the morning of my arrival to Hanalei, the heavy shroud of fog and clouds is lifting, and I am seeing my own rainbow framing all of the hope and possibility of a new year and a new phase of my life. I am so grateful to the darkness and to the challenges and successes of this past year. I am especially grateful to all of the beautiful humans in my life who when I am down, always remind me that there is hope, that trust is possible, that love conquers all, and especially for holding up a mirror and reminding me who I am and what I am made of.

I am grateful. I am excited. I am ready for 50! I am ready to sail across the ocean again

BRING  IT  ON!!!!!!!!

A Video of My Talk at "Take The Tiller", a women's sailing workshop

I was very honored to be a part of Half Moon Bay Yacht Club's annual woman's sailing event called "Take the Tiller" a couple of weeks ago. It was an all day hands on affair, geared towards women with moderate sailing skills, to build confidence and command at the helm. When the women came in off of their eventful day on the water, we gathered together in the yacht club's wonderful meeting space. Martha Huddle, who runs the women's sailing program invited me to be the keynote speaker for the event so that I could share my experience of the Singlehanded Transpac and all that I learned as a result. I was thrilled to be able to share my journey with such an engaged and enthusiastic crowd!

Thank you to everyone at HMBYC and all of the lovely people in the audience for making this a night I will never forget!

Martha being the amazing woman that she is!

Some thoughts on Bravery and a Shout out to Nathalie Criou!

I have been thinking a lot about bravery lately, and what that means to me as a woman and as a sailor, and how those two relate. Something popped into my Facebook feed today by Brene' Brown that stopped me in my tracks. She was talking about her daughter's graduation from high school and all of the emotions that emerged in her as a result of that milestone. Its a great post, and you can read it here. In that post she said that their family motto is that it is "okay to be brave and afraid at the same time". I love that, and as I read it I realized that I have experienced the power of this very paradox in my own life. I have found that by allowing both, deep growth and great accomplishments are possible (and even inevitable)!

I concurrently read a blog post by my new friend and one of my sailing inspirations, Nathalie Criou. Nathalie is a veteran of the Singlehanded Transpac (2014) and is currently in France getting ready to race in the Solitaire Urgo le Figaro , an historic French singlehanded race, which starts on May 26! In her post, she speaks of her "healthy dose of fear" as she comes face to face with some of the top sailors in the country. She is a very accomplished sailor herself, and I am sure she will give them a run for their money, but what means the most to me as someone that looks up to her, is that she is acknowledging her humanness in so many ways. She also has the best attitude about it and says that learning a lot and having fun will happen no matter what, which I love and wholeheartedly agree with!

After reading her post today, and knowing that she is over there on her own preparing to sail in a very prestigious and challenging race, I had to stop for a moment and acknowledge her bravery! She is brave to believe in herself enough to do it, and she is brave to do it, and she is brave to admit her fears. The latter, to me, is the biggest piece of her bravery! 

Please join me in cheering her on, and stay tuned for an interview with her here on my blog when she returns from France!! My hat is off to you Nat!!!!!

The Importance of Embracing The Ups and Downs

I am feeling very raw today. As my life changes course and I adjust my sails to heed a calling I cannot ignore, I feel more and more vulnerable. As one of my favorite teachers, Brene’ Brown says, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” As much as I know this deep in my bones, I am writhing with the discomfort of it…yet even in that discomfort, I trust the deep truth of it.

As I approach 50, I am feeling the need to shed some layers. I am tired from a lifetime of presenting a polished and “acceptable” version of myself to keep the peace in my life. I am learning that the most important thing I can do right now is to trust myself and be true to what I feel. I cannot help but relate this to my journey across the Pacific. I was called on to trust myself every moment of every day out there, even when it didn’t feel comfortable or easy to do. I had to trust in my foundation as a sailor and as a human. I had to know that when all was said and done, the truth and strength that lay within that act of trust was enough….that I was enough. I learned out there that I did not have to audition for “the part” (the part of being all things to all people) anymore, and that being the whole raw unadulterated version of myself was more than enough. This was a huge realization for me, because despite all of the things I have accomplished in my life, I have never felt like I was enough. I always thought (still think sometimes) that I had to do more and be more, just to be accepted and deemed as worthy by those around me. I know that this is not a unique plight, but the reverberations of how this revelation affects me personally are shaking me deeply right now.

I am still working on allowing all that I learned on my journey at sea percolate so that I can assimilate it into my daily life. This integration is often painful, however as I come face to face with very old and stubborn habits that are alive and well in my land life. One of those habits is allowing my trust in myself to waiver when I sense doubt in another. My knee jerk reaction is to abandon my own ship in order to keep the peace with another (to quell the horrible feeling of their displeasure). I can see now that when I do this, I am betraying myself, and that is the ultimate betrayal.

So today, I am crawling back up onto my ship and taking the helm with purpose. I am calling on the strength and deep self-trust I felt at sea to remind me of who I really am. I am calling on the oneness I felt with spirit as I plummeted across the Pacific to remind me that all is well, and as it should be. I am calling on the healing powers of nature and Mother Ocean to remind me of the infinite goodness in myself and the world. Being alone at sea reminded me of the order of things, and that that order just IS. There is no need to audition, there is no need to jump ship, but rather to simply be mindful of my own ship and the manner in which I sail her so that she is at one with the flow of the sea.

Ps….I have been posting some videos lately on my Facebook and Instagram feeds about the ups and downs of my journey (I have added a couple below). I have gotten some strong reactions from people who felt that they needed to worry about me because it looked so hard and uncomfortable.. Please don’t worry! For me there is so much strength in sharing the down times, for they are fertilizer for healing and growth, and I would never trade any of them for anything! It is in that spirit that I share this part of my emotional journey with all of you. For me, it’s all the same. This is WHY I sail!

Beware of F Bombs!!!!! :-) A raw and real moment at sea!! Its all a part of the process. I embrace it all!

MEET KASS SCHMITT!! Solo Offshore Sailor Extraordinaire!

Friends,

Meet Kass Schmitt! She is about to take off (IN 2 WEEKS!) on the OSTAR (The Original Transatlantic Singlehanded Race) with the goal of becoming the first woman to win! I have not met Kass in person yet, but we have corresponded and connected on social media. She has graciously agreed to be a part of my documentary project about women solo offshore sailors, and I cannot wait to meet her in person for our interview! Our correspondence alone has shown me what a true badass she is! Kass is the perfect blend of graciousness, kindness and pure grit! I have no doubt that her race will be a success. She is still looking for support for her campaign, and I want to share the link here to her Indiegogo page so that perhaps some of you can reach out and make a donation! Every little bit will help her achieve her goal! At the very least, please follow here progress on Facebook, and/or her wonderful blog!

Here’s to you Kass!!!!!!

Humble Pie! Handed to me by a crazy day on the bay.

What a day!!! I was planning on single handing for the Berger Stein Pt. Dume and return race yesterday (we single and double handers are trying to represent so they keep this series open to us), but I am very glad that fate intervened and my big brother ended up joining me at the last minute. It was a wild and crazy day on the bay to say the least, and having an extra person with me was a life saver! We headed out of the marina towards the start with all of the other boats, and as we got out towards the committee boat, the wind came up pretty quickly and hinted strongly at the wild ride that was to come. I am slowly learning Cassiopeia’s ways, and one thing I learned early on is that I need to reef early and conservatively. She has a tall rig and a lot of sail area compared to Haunani, and becomes overpowered terrifyingly quickly. I reefed my main and my genoa for the start, and I am glad that I did, for she was a handful even with those reefs in place.

As usual, the start stressed me out like crazy. I simply HATE them. I hate being so close to everyone (especially being shorthanded), and I also hate trying to figure out my strategy, because honestly I have none. I wish I could just take my turn and go, because once we get away from the line and out to sea, I am comfortable and confident, but sailing around the line with all of the other boats, creates a lot of anxiety for me. I hope to get over this one day, and I will keep being brave and putting myself in the mix (and learning from my mentors) until I do!

Our course was MDR to Pt. Dume and back. We were hard on the wind all the way up, and the wind was mainly over 25 knots and sometimes up to 30+.  As we tacked our way up the bay, we took a beating. The sea was intense, and the wind was gusty and fierce and we were consistently over powered. In hindsight, I should have taken a 2nd reef in my mainsail, but since my 1st reef is very deep, I somehow thought the second would be overkill. After talking to my mentors and looking at photos of the race, however, I realize that I was very wrong. I also realized that I need to have a smaller headsail on hand. My 140% is reefable, but trying to reef (on the roller-furler) it in those winds was painful (I saw dollar signs flying out the window as the sail flogged during the process). If I had reefed the main again, I would have been able to point higher and I wouldn’t have been pushed down so much.

Once we turned around to run home, the wind was in the 30’s and gusting to 38. We had an unfortunate gybe during which my main sheet snapped and three blocks shattered. I am grateful that was the only damage, because it was very scary and could have been a lot worse in those conditions. It provided another big learning experience for the day: I should have chicken gybed (doing a regular tack and then falling off) instead of attempting a regular gybe in those winds. It’s painful to admit my stupidity, but those kinds of mistakes are how things stick in my brain sometimes. I jury rigged a new sheet (using my preventer) to secure the boom, and we dropped the main. We flew home under Genoa only, at between 8-10 knots. The swells were building and we had a few very fun surfs! It was hard work to steer though, and my hands are still feeling it as I type this. I was very happy to get back into the marina, even though docking in that wind provided one last hairy adventure to cap off my day. My brother was an amazing crew, and when we were finally safely close to home, we toasted the day with a cold Heineken (I just found out they are gluten free by the way!)!

As I fix my boat, and reflect on the day, I am so grateful for the opportunity to have gotten to sail Cassiopeia for the first time in intense conditions. I learned a lot about her and myself on that race. I have a list of things I need to change about her set up to make her more manageable for me alone in those conditions. I also realize that before I go offshore alone with her, I need to do a lot more practice sails in the bay when the conditions are intense, yet manageable so that I can create a symbiotic relationship with her. Part of my ease with Haunani was that I had sailed her alone for so long that I could move around blind folded. Also, she was a lot more forgiving of a boat than Cassiopeia is, so everything always felt more manageable. I know that my relationship with Cassiopeia will get there, but I don’t want to jump the gun and put myself in challenging situations at sea before we do. It is a process, and one I intend to honor and take very seriously!

As always, I am so grateful to my mentors and teachers who generously give me the opportunity to debrief with them so I can learn in retrospect. I am also grateful to the crazy day in the bay for teaching me so much in a short time! Finally, I am grateful for all that I have been through until now that has taught me how to keep us safe and moving on a day like that! I am a very different sailor than I was at this time last year, and I am sure in a year from now I will say the same. I love the learning and growth that is always available as I move through these wonderful adventures!! I am also grateful for the opportunities sailing provides for me to remind myself of the importance of “bravery not perfection” (if you have not seen Reshma Saujani’s Ted Talk about this, please watch it!!).

(All photos are by my talented and wonderful big brother, Chris Woods)

flying home in 30-38 knots with just the genoa! It was a work out with those swells shoving us about!

Catalina To Port :: A PSSA Race

Catalina to Port: From the starting line located near Palos Verdes buoy "10PV", leave the West End of Catalina to port, finish when Catalina East End light (Fl w 6s) position 33 18.1162N 118 19.0570W is within 0.5 NM and bears 350°M from the helmsman's position. Handicap distance 41 NM.

My crew (and dear friend), Scott and I departed the dock at 8am on a beautiful warm Southern California morning. We had a lovely cruise to PV 10 and arrived just before check in. I felt very excited as we headed towards the start, because more and more boats were appearing around us which brought with them the promise of a well-attended race! I believe we had 13 boats entered, and by 10:30am we were all tacking around waiting for our 11am start. I have to admit that I will never tire of the pre-start ritual of cruising the starting area with everyone, waving hello to each other and checking out each other’s boats!

I had my usual nervousness about the start, but was coached well by Scott (and even though did not quite do what he said, I was a little aggressive…. at least for me) and we had a solid start right behind Jerome on Biohazard. As we made our way across the channel, we were holding our own among the fleet, and that felt really good (I am still pleasantly surprised by Cassiopeia’s litheness compared to Haunani’s). Due to the wind angle we had a couple of indecisive moments about which tack was best to make the west end, but once we settled on a direction, we got into a groove and were in a really good place. Cassiopeia was moving well in the semi light wind, and we made good way across the channel. We came around the West end and the wind got really light. As we got closer and closer to Eagle rock, I decided we should tack and head away from the island. As we did that, we caught a little breeze and started to move a little better until we were away from the island a bit and clear of the wind hole that seemed to be plaguing everyone else. From there we headed down the back side moving slowly but well. At one point we tried to deploy my spinnaker (asymmetrical), but the wind was too light for it to be effective, and we decided to douse it and pole out the genoa instead. I have to admit that the mixture of getting to know my new boat (I have only flown the spinnaker one other time, and have never used my whisker pole with her), and the flukey conditions had me pretty flustered. I know that I will get there, but it is anything but a seamless operation at this point!

A lot of people retired from the race early on, and we got close too at one point, but I am glad we stuck it out, because we got into a nice little groove out there, and about 2/3 of the way down the island, the wind came up into the 20’s and provided for a very fun ride to the east end. One of the most fun things for me was converging with Rod on Rubicon III and then having him hot on our tail as we flew towards the finish wing and wing, riding some pretty big rollers. We stayed in front of him until the wind died just shy of the east end light and true to form, he scooted right past us in the light air.

It was a spectacular sunset and a beautiful day on the water. I am so grateful to Scott for being such a great teammate out there. As always we had a blast together! We tucked into Avalon around 9pm and were both exhausted and ready for a hot meal and sleep. We were lucky to get to spend the entire next day and night relaxing in Avalon, and had a fun sail home on Monday afternoon!

Vulnerability

As I prepare for my next big adventure, I have been thinking a lot about bravery, and what that means to me in my life. It’s easy to conceptualize bravery when admiring another from afar, but a little more complicated when applying it to my own life’s journey. And within that journey, it’s simpler to apply it to a tangible feat, like sailing alone across the Pacific, but what I am actually being reminded of right now is that real bravery starts with something much deeper. I think if I had to come up with one word that equals bravery for me, it would be vulnerability. Brene’ Brown, one of my heroes and favorite teachers in life studies vulnerability, and through her research, sheds light on its significance to our emotional well-being. If you are not familiar with her work, her TED talk on vulnerability is a great place to start. She says that “vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.” I would have to agree.

The reason I am thinking so much about bravery lately is not so much because I am preparing to head out alone across the Pacific again, but more so because in conjunction with (and really, as a result of) that decision, I am putting myself out into the world in new ways. As with each time I have ventured to do this in my life, I am feeling extremely exposed and nervous. Not only am I being asked to speak at various events about my experience in the 2016 SHTP, but I am in the beginning phases of creating a documentary film about the history of the women skippers of the same race (to ask the question: “why aren’t there more women participating in solo offshore sailing in general?’). My documentary project is gaining so much momentum already that there is no way except forward. It is truly taking on a life of its own, and I am called to be all in. Between heeding this call and agreeing to speak in public, I am being challenged to embody my own experiences and put myself in the public eye in new ways. In short, I am being asked to be brave. I will be honest and say that this feat feels harder to me than when I shoved off the dock into the greatest unknown of my life nine months ago.

The act of writing honestly about my personal experiences, public speaking or interviewing my heroes itself isn’t scary. What feels intimidating is that to do so, I am stepping out of the relative safety of my circle of friends and private life into a much more exposed arena. Through blogging and speaking, I am inviting people that I don’t know into my personal successes and failures. I am also reaching out across oceans and airwaves to my sailing heroines and declaring my intentions, sharing my humble (compared to theirs) experience and asking to interview them about theirs. I am presenting my talk and SHTP video to groups of accomplished sailors who have many thousands more ocean miles under their belts than I do. In doing all of this, I am opening my experiences up to judgement and criticism as well as celebration and support.

All of these things make me quake in my boots, but as I said in my last post, I am heeding a call and trusting that I am at the right track. As scared and vulnerable as I feel every day, I continue to show up in front of my fears, and I continue to put one foot in front of the other. Brene’ Brown reminds me that “courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen” and “the willingness to show up changes us….and makes us a little braver each time.” And so this cycle of bravery lifts me up and reminds me that as uncomfortable as it can feel, there is also freedom in being seen. There is power in sharing myself wholly with people. There is power in sharing all of the parts, not just the shiny ones. Lately it has been hard, but the more I stick to it, the more I am reminded of the nugget of truth found in Brene’ Brown’s research, that “vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.”  In my life, when I have had the courage to show up and be vulnerable, transformation and expansion always occurs.  So, trusting that fact, I am stepping into the arena and showing up. I am not sure exactly for what yet, but the quaking in my boots tells me it’s going to be well worth it!

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” -Theodore Roosevelt
 

Following The Thread Into Exciting Waters!

  “Such is the passage of time
    Too fast to fold
    And suddenly swallowed by signs
    Low and behold
   Gonna rise up
   Find my direction magnetically
   Gonna rise up
   Throw down my ace in the hole”

  -Eddie Vedder

The familiar itch and call of the horizon is pulling at me fiercely right now. As I try to navigate the waters of my daily life, the sea is calling to me loudly and reminding me of the answers that lie in her vastness. When things become at all jumbled or overloaded in my mind and heart as they are now, that pull feels stronger than ever.

As I wrote that, the image of a huge sieve popped into my mind….so much pouring through, and then the relief of finding the nuggets of truth safely guarded in its web as all that is extraneous falls away. This is exactly why I love to sail alone….being out in the sacred cathedral of the ocean is like an energetic sieve that hands me my truth if I just allow everything to flow through. For me it’s allowing the flow that is challenging sometimes though. The grandest illusion of my life has been thinking that I can control what is channeled through my “sieve”. All I can do is be vigilant in mining the nuggets and tend to the sieve itself, which of course consists of my mind, soul and heart.

Right now the greatest morsel of truth I am finding over and over again is that I need be true to my own compass and follow the call that is bringing forth a whole new direction in my life. The direction feels foreign, but familiar as well because it is woven together with all of the lessons and experiences on my path so far. Every skill and every bit of knowledge of my life has prepared me for this new journey, no matter how unrelated they may seem. It’s the thread again. If I trust and flow with that thread, I am reminded that all is revealed as it is meant to be and when it is meant to be. Sometimes this flow is a gentle brook but lately it has felt like a rushing river that is taking on a life of its own. It is a wild ride but no matter how intense the river, there is a vein of truth in it that shines through and keeps me hanging on. So I am not fighting it and am paying attention at every turn, even to things that might seem innocuous and meaningless. They are all clues and each one is urging me to ask some questions.

For example, I was sailing out of Marina Del Rey the other day aboard my lovely Cassiopeia. I was alone. I was just off the Venice pier, and I was furling out my genoa, and setting my course for a practice sail on the bay. I was doing what I, and many other people do all the time. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a zodiac flanking me. They were obviously following me, and eventually it became clear that they were trying to tell me something. My immediate thought was that they were coming to tell me I was getting too close to a race course that was nearby. When they got close enough for me to hear them however, the man driving the rib was yelling to me that he thought it was “amazing” that I was single handing my boat. My first reaction was one of gratitude and appreciation for someone reaching out to me like that, but when he sped away, I felt awkward. I was left once again with the burning question: WHY? Why is it considered so “amazing” that I am single handing my boat, when no one would probably single out a man out there doing the same? I ask this question not out of defensiveness, but out of genuine curiosity. Getting this kind of reaction most of my life, and especially now, has spurred me to dig deeper into the questions, and to create a project that will hopefully give us some answers. I don’t think it is amazing that a woman can single hand her vessel across bays and oceans because she is a woman, I think it is amazing because she is a brave human being following her call and doing what brings her joy. What is curious to me is that there are not more women who want to push themselves in this way (in comparison to men in the same arena). The questions keep flooding my mind, and my response is to follow the thread and create a documentary that will hopefully scratch the surface of answers.

I will start in the place where I am familiar: sailing. I will start with a documentary on the history of women in the Singlehanded Transpac, jumping off with the real time experience of all of us who race in 2018, and dive back into history from there. I have already contacted numerous past racers as well as some of my solo offshore sailing heroines (Isabelle Autissier, Donna Lange, Kass Schmitt, Susie Goodall and Lisa Blair to name a few) to be a part of this project. I have been met with nothing but excitement and cooperation, which to me is the greatest confirmation that I am on the right track. I hope to meet many of these accomplished women in the next couple of years to shed light on my questions. I am asking these questions from a place of deep curiosity, but also out of a desire to inspire balance in these arenas and hopefully to inspire more women to get out on the water and seek adventure.

I feel my initial questions are just the tip of a very deep iceberg, and I am so excited for what will revealed as my documentary project takes on a life of its own. I am grateful to be a channel for this project, and grateful to all of the women who have already agreed to be a part of it all!

Sailing Portraits

As much as I am a sailor and obsessed with all related things, I am also a creative being. I am a mixed media artist as well as a portrait photographer. I am blessed to do what I love for a living, and recently I have been finding a way to marry (almost) all of my passions to be a part of that. I have been fortunate to have the opportunity to interview some of my sailing mentors, as well as some other sailors whom I greatly admire for my series of interviews on this blog. Part of these interviews is documenting the sacred relationship between the sailor and their vessel through a series of portraits. Thomas once mentioned to me that I should offer this as a part of my photography services, and I am finally taking his advice, and making it happen.

If you or anyone you know might be interested in exploring this option, I would be honored to capture your unique relationship with your vessel and life at sea. This can be anything from action shots to a peek into a simple life living aboard a boat. Please mention this blog post and receive 25% off your first session! Please visit my photography website to find out more about how I work!