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!

New Adventures Await! 2018 Singlehanded Transpac, Here We Come!

I am sitting here at dawn, watching the sun slowly illuminate the Golden Gate Bridge. In the gentle light, I can see a tanker swiftly making its way under the bridge and heading out to sea. I still cannot believe that Haunani and I crossed that same threshold and into the great unknown just 8 months ago. My journey feels so far away and surreal, and most times I have to remind myself that it really happened. Thankfully this week I have gotten to connect with some of my fellow racers to finally be able to share bits of our experiences, which has helped with that reminder. Though I do not know any of them well, just being in their presence, and knowing that we all shared (albeit separately) such a profound experience is grounding for me.

Our little gaggle of sailors in Tiburon

As I drove into the Bay Area for my first visit since I departed the dock in Tiburon with all of those brave souls, I was reminded of so many milestones and moments. Memories flooded my being as I saw the little marina that housed Haunani and me for 2 weeks before the race, and the yacht club where I met everyone for the first time, and the dock from where we all cast off, and finally the Golden Gate Bridge, which will always be a symbol for me of the beginning of my great journey home to myself.  As I experience all of these remembrances throughout my visit, I have consistently had a feeling of disbelief, like I need to pinch myself to remind myself that all of it really happened. I wonder when this sensation of incredulity will dissolve and (hopefully) morph into a deep knowing that lives in my bones.

I find myself wishing I were able to more vividly recall sensations and daily memories of my voyage. My video footage helps, but the actual memories seem to morph into one another. It leaves me craving more, and wanting to feel it all over again. I want to be surrounded by the magic of the watery disk again, I want to feel the expanse of the huge and powerful sea surrounding me and urging me on, I want to witness the private showing of weeks of magical sunrises and sunsets.

Every time I see the horizon over the Pacific, she calls to me. Her allure is irresistible, so much so that I have surrendered and have decided to enter the 2018 Singlehanded Transpac with my new love, Cassiopeia, and do it all over again. Please stay tuned. I am working on a very exciting project as a way to honor and feature the women of the Singlehanded Transpac, and the race itself. I am so excited and inspired…..and yes, just a little bit INSANE!

"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds... where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you beyond the next turning of the canyon walls."

- Benediction: Edward Abbey

Saying Goodbye to My Haunani

Until today, I hadn’t worked on my Haunani in over a month. Life and other obligations have gotten in the way, but time is ticking down and we need to get the horrible job of dissembling her completed for once and for all. Even though the sting of her loss gets a little easier with time, I have never gotten used to seeing her in such a state of destruction and disarray. I was pretty “together” for most of the day today, but when it came time to leave, I had a moment. I was looking around at her trusty bones, and a wave of emotion came over me stopped me in my tracks. Everyone else was outside, so I allowed myself the moment. I allowed the sadness to well up and the tears to flow. I closed my eyes and remembered the feeling of her strength as she and I barreled across the Pacific together. As I sat there  in her companionway (my favorite spot on my trip) in an urban boat yard, I could almost feel the motion of her strong back as she spirited us through the crazy seas and wind that spiced up our journey to Hawaii. I wandered around to each little space that holds so many memories and let myself take them all in. I even caught myself hugging the bulkhead at one point as I said a long and tearful thank you to my beautiful girl.

I thanked her for being a catalyst for change and healing in my life. I thanked her for giving me the confidence and courage to put one foot in front of the other from the day I bought her to the moment we made it all the way to Hanalei Bay. I thanked her for being so stout and steadfast and for making me feel so safe in the middle of a vast and stormy ocean. I thanked her for all the good times, all the Catalina trips, all the times she provided sacred space for healing and introspection. I thanked her for the hard lessons as well as the smooth ones. I know it’s crazy but I feel like I am talking to a person when I talk to her. I love her so much and I am going to miss her so much when she is really gone. I wish we could sail together one last time, but I know now that our time together ended as it was meant to, and our last epic sail together will forever be emblazoned upon my heart and soul. There will never be another Haunani, that is for sure. 

Cassiopeia's First Race

Saturday was my 1st race on Cassiopeia! It was also my 1st race period on my own boat, outside of PSSA races (and of course the SHTP). It was the first of the Berger/Stein Series races and it was from Marina Del Rey to Malibu and return. Being near the start line as everyone was tacking around waiting to begin, was such a wonderful experience. I knew most of the boats, and was now seeing them all from the vantage point of my own as I sailed by them waiving hellos and shouting good lucks! I missed being aboard dear Eggemogin, as I had in the two years prior, but this was a new beginning for me, and I was excited to try something new. We didn’t have much wind, but it was a lovely day to be on the water! I was lucky enough to be double handing with my dear friend Whitall, who taught me so much in one day about light air sail trim, and despite the super light conditions, we were able to keep moving all day. We, like almost everyone else, aborted the race just before sunset (about 2nm from our mark in Malibu). It was futile to try to finish in those conditions, and I was just happy we got as far as we did. The sunset was reason enough to be out there anyhow, and we heartily drank in the beauty and solace that unfolded before our eyes as we made our way home. I was literally moved to tears by the majesty of it all.

It’s hard to accurately convey why every sunset on the water can drop me to my knees. No matter how many I have witnessed or how frequently I witness them. It always feels new, and it invokes a sense of reverence in me like nothing else I have ever felt. Nature in general, and the sea in particular is truly my “church”. I feel the closest connection to spirit when I am out there, and the sunset hour seems to be the most sacred of those times. As the sun splashes its light along the horizon, the veil between worlds seems to be almost non-existent, and I can viscerally experience being one with God, nature, the universe (whatever you want to call it....to me it is all the same). Being on the sea is where I can most easily connect with the indescribable magic of that realm. I always try to capture the magic in images and video, and this time I think I came pretty close, although nothing is like being there in person drinking in in with every fiber of my being.

Sacred Horizons

January 3, 2017

Six months ago today, I witnessed the first of seventeen majestic sunrises over the Pacific as I made my way to Kauai on my beloved sailboat, Haunani. The day before, I sailed out under the Golden Gate Bridge past anything familiar and into a 360’sphere that would change me forever. I have said before that my journey didn’t really change me, but rather reminded me of who I really was. I was indeed reminded of what was inside me all along, but I am realizing now, that that very fact has changed me. I feel I am on the precipice of something profound, and watching San Francisco disappear in my wake and then arriving in Hanalei Bay seventeen days later was just the beginning of my transformation.

When I reflect on my journey, the most stirring memories I have are of the stunning sunrises I was blessed to witness. The glow of the sun slowly illuminating the dramatic horizon was an elixir for my heart and soul and motivation for my weary body. The sun would come up again, no matter how treacherous or stormy the night, and would evoke a sense of wonder and promise in me no matter my mood. She would shine a light across the sacred horizon to illuminate the mysteries of the night and transform them into possibility and motivation. It was like being born again every day. No matter what the disposition of the sea, the sunrise was a shot of grace into my soul that would without fail remind me of all that is right in the world, and renew my determination.

It is in the spirit of that renewed determination, and also the necessary release of my beloved Haunani, that I rename this blog “Sacred Horizons”. I am as ever, gazing out into the mysterious promise of luring horizons with hope and determination as I navigate this next phase of my life’s adventure.

Meet Cassiopeia!

I will always mourn the loss of my beloved Haunani, but as time goes on I am healing, and the sadness is lifting. Now that my insurance claim is settled, I feel it timely to introduce my new love, Cassiopeia. She is a 2005  Hanse 37. As I deconstruct Haunani, I am upgrading Cassiopeia and preparing her to be my companion in the next frontier of my sailing adventures. She is a lovely lady, a bit more sophisticated and "fancy" than my rugged Haunani, but she is comfy fun and FAST! I look forward to learning from her as I tackle my next set of sailing goals. We have entered the 1st of The Del Rey Yacht Club Berger race series, and plan on doing all of the Pacific Singlehanded Sailing Association races this winter as well! Little by little I will replace her electronics with all of Haunani's, (VHF, AIS, digital radar Chartplotter, stereo,etc) as well as some other choice items (windlass and NKE autopilot to name a couple). I am still learning her ways, and figuring out to navigate her layout efficiently.  I could move around Haunani blindfolded, but now I find myself tripping all over Cassiopeia as I get used to her set up. Its actually comical sometimes. I am sure this will all shift soon, but I would be lying if I said it has been a seamless transition. Haunani and I were one, and I still pine for the old girl, and the familiarity of her bones. 

From Behind the Veil

“You're doing this for YOU! No one else. Everything else is noise. External feedback has no power. YOU know what you need to do. This is your journey. Your legacy. Your walk about. Stand in your power and find your answers. I love you and believe in you”.

This little gem was sent to me on the eve of my departure for Hawaii by my baby sister. She is a wise one, who drops truth bombs like no one else I know. Sometimes I marvel that I even have to be reminded of such things at the ripe old age of 49 (and by a sister 8 years my junior no less), but I admit that I do.

Though my physical walk about is over, I am reluctantly realizing that the inner vision quest that it sparked is only just beginning. I don’t think I realized until this week, that what I have been experiencing lately is not so much a depression or a funk, but a rebirth, or a coming of age…well shit, isn’t that exactly what a vision quest IS? There has been a heavy veil upon and around me since I returned from my voyage, some of it is made up of tangible reasons, and the rest is made up of sheer mystery (otherwise known as sheer torture). It makes me think of one of my favorite books, The Mists of Avalon (based on the legend of King Arthur). The mists are a magical veil shrouding a land full of mystery and wisdom, that can only be parted when one is in full connection with oneself and spirit (at least that is my interpretation). As I do the work needed to part the mists, the veil is lifting and things are slowly becoming clear once again. I have been here before, so many times, but never like this. This work is not easy, I tell you. I don’t think I have ever before gone farther into the abyss of transformative darkness. I can see light peeking through the heavy veil, but I am still in here swimming around, looking for buried treasure and hoping that soon, very soon, I will be able to surface and breathe the fresh clean air on the other side of the mists.

As I navigate the depths of this challenging time, I am trying to live by my sister’s wise words. I am trying to move through it with my own truth at the center, rather than pull of the opinions, judgements, criticisms and even praise of those around me. As my brother lovingly told me last month while watching me take in (into my actual body) the energy and moods of a group of people, “wow, you are such a sponge”. I am indeed, and I feel it now more than ever as I finally realize how badly it needs to change. I am slowly learning to create an energetic boundary around myself, but until now, I have not had that ability.

How this relates to my sailing journey (finally, Margie, jeez!), is that I am realizing as I look back that I often allowed the energy and opinions of people around me to shroud my experience of preparing for and completing the Singlehanded Transpac. As single-minded and confident as I was, I allowed myself to be emotionally and energetically pulled into the realm of other people’s emotional realities. I allowed the criticism that I heard and experienced get under my skin and affect my attitude. I allowed myself to feel people’s fears (even when I did not have them for myself). And finally, as comforting as it was most of the time, I realize now that I communicated WAY too much on my actual journey (via satellite tracking device) with the people in my life to the point where their worries, fears and feelings started to infiltrate and affect my daily experience on the boat. I am thankful for modern methods of communication, and for the love and concern of those close to me, but if I had it to do over again, I would seriously limit my communication.

All of that being said, I wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything. There are so many gems that I could never put into words that I experienced on this journey. I am in no way trying to downplay the magnitude of it all. I simply know that I am still mining the depths of the experience as I come out the other side. So I come full circle in this post, and I stand here, open and humbled… ...raw and receptive… waiting for ‘my answers’.