Day 12

Day 12 29'14.459 N / 145'09.481W

Just like my little tracking device, apparently I needed a re-boot. Yesterday was a tough day for me. Nothing in particular happened or didn’t happen, I just kind of hit a wall. The morning started crappy as you know from my last post, and my spirits just took a nosedive from there. I felt small and fragile most of the day, and was very homesick for my friends and family.

I had a great night’s sleep (well, as great as it can be sleeping for 1-2 hours at a time) and as a result, this morning I am feeling much better and more positive. Once of the things that was bringing me down was that I was having a very hard time making decisions about my course, and since I have never done a big trip like this was very confused as to the best trajectory and how to calculate that. It just felt so daunting. I would panic that I was going the wrong way, and ended up jibing way too much and looking like a drunken sailor by my track. Another thing that was/is really getting to me are the unpredictable swells. When one randomly comes from the side, it is so jarring and agitating. You never know when they will hit, and when down below, the noises that accompany them are really awful. You would think I would be used to it by now, but it is still very disconcerting! It honestly feels like my boat might crack apart into a thousand pieces…..then I pop up on deck and everything seems as calm and normal as ever. It is a strange phenomenon!

I do love it out here, but I have to admit that I am counting the days until I arrive in Hanalei. My dad reminded me yesterday though that once I get there I will probably wish I were back out at sea. So, my challenge is to stay in the moment and really be present with every nuance of this experience.

Anyway, here is to a new day and a fresh perspective! I feel like I am on a good course now. I have 878 miles left and I plan on making the very best out of them!

Day 11

Day 11 30’24.838N / 143’06.936W

Well I suppose this day was bound to come....I woke up feeling completely exhausted (not enough sleep the last 2 nights) and extremely grumpy. When I looked at my chart plotter, the 1000 miles ahead of me glared at me and seemed daunting at best. Last night was full of bizarre new noises, which in my mind turned into some major problem with my boat. I laid awake ruminating about my choice to head back south…or should I jibe and head back towards the rhumb line….back and forth and back and forth….rumination central with a healthy dose of self doubt mixed in (this course selection part and strategy has been my biggest challenge). All the while the swells were heaving Haunani to and fro, which means I was flying around in my bunk, which does not make for restful sleep at all. Then, add in the awesome AIS alarms going off at 3 am that I could not silence for the life of me. Imagine the shriekiest noise on earth and that is what I was dealing with (in this pissed off mindset no less). Of course I am grateful to have such alarms, but when they are going off every 5 seconds warning me of a boat I already know is there…..seriously, I could’ve jumped out of my skin! On top of that, I hadn’t showered (except one bucket shower) in 10 days and I felt disgusting. The obnoxious swells that send my sails (and me) flopping and slamming are enough to make me insane. The new noises inside my mast that sound like a shaker full of metal are beyond annoying, and add heartily to my irritability.

I am being a little dramatic and facetious, but you get the idea. My reality of living aboard a 34 foot vessel bobbing around in the middle of the Pacific became very unromantic this morning and it got to me. I suppose it is par for the course after being alone at sea for 10 days, but I wasn’t expecting it because until now I had felt so great and positive. I had to take a lot of deep breaths and then get over myself to face all of my daily tasks. I had some coffee, got a great pep talk from Thomas and some wonderful supportive messages from my friends and family, which helped a lot, but I still felt like shit. SO I had a little talk with myself….time to turn this all around!

I put on some music, made some pancakes (without eggs I might add, since they all froze and cracked from the dry ice –can you say buzz kill?), and not so patiently awaited a warm “shower”. The engine was charging the batteries, and as soon as the water was hot, I was in there! After my luscious shower, I tried to tackle my spinnaker so I could get this ship headed downwind to make some better headway (again still annoyed with myself and lack of experience in strategy and navigation of this sort). I bit off more than I could chew however and tried to fly it in too much breeze (for my comfort and skill level). It was more than a handful and by the end of that exercise I needed another shower! I am glad I tried, but I will stick to my genoa if the breeze is too much, which is frustrating because I cannot efficiently head straight downwind, which is what I need to do. This morning was the morning of what the f*ck am I doing out here anyway? Who’s brilliant idea WAS this…as I got catapulted across my galley one more time.

I just came back to writing this after finally feeding myself. I am already feeling better and turning it all around, but in closing, I want to remind myself that all of this challenging stuff is just as important as the rest (if even for comic relief) and it feels good to be able to express my feelings about it so that I can move through it all! It’s all about balance in the end right? Here is to the ups and downs and all the twists and turns of this and every journey…and life. And, here is to living in the moment and accepting that I will arrive exactly when I am meant to. All I can do is sail my boat as fast as I can, to the best of my ability and let the rest go. Easier said than done, but I am working on it! And, by the way, never underestimate the power of coffee, pancakes, cleanliness and old school Jimmy Buffet!!

Day 10!

Day 10 31’32.675 N / 140’58.601 W

I am writing this as my boat lurches about on huge dark blue rollers. Really the only place to be is wedged somewhere, so that’s what I am doing now with my trusty laptop. I woke up today to a different feeling in the air. It’s warmer and feels tropical somehow. I think I have found the trades! I am still in total awe of this experience and the beauty that surrounds me at all times out here! I will admit though, that today is the first day that I am feeling antsy and impatient. I have not laid eyes on another soul for this whole time, and even though I have been in touch with my family through my tracker, I feel very far away from my “real” life. It is surreal.

My brother asked me today how I pass the days out here. My first answer was “trying not to fall over”. Sounds funny I know, but it’s so true. I cannot let down my guard for one moment, or I will certainly be flung across my cabin. Making food and coffee has become an art form. If you saw my stance while doing so you would laugh heartily at my expense! The bruises on my body look like a celestial chart gone rogue and I have never been this sore in my life. The constant balancing takes a toll, then you add sail trim/management and just dealing with boat stuff…trust me it is intense. I am trying to keep myself fed and semi-clean but that too is tough with this movement. I actually found dreadlocks in my hair yesterday…and I have fine hair so getting them out was an interesting endeavor. I may have lost an entire handful of hair in the process (and I don’t have much to spare)! I eat out of cooking pots and often drop half of it on my lap. Drinking water has earned me some new skills and a realization that wide mouthed water bottles are not the way to go on the high seas! I am glad I am the only one here to see or smell me and I am very glad I can laugh at myself!

I have had some technical difficulties with downloading my grib (weather) files to see what’s going on out here. It has been frustrating for sure. It is especially important because there is a big storm that is headed towards the islands, and I need to be prepared with my strategy for how to best handle that (where to place myself) if and when it becomes an issue.

Despite all of the callenges, I truly am happy out here, and it is mostly fun. It is a magical world no matter what time of day it is. There is always something new and captivating to witness and take in. The changing moods of the sea and sky really captivate and inspire me to no end.

The wind is up so we are constantly moving now (we are doing 7-9 knots on a downwind run). I needed that speed for a little encouragement! The big tasks for me at this point are to keep us moving as fast as we can and to figure out my most efficient course strategy. I have no experience with this kind of thing, so I am relying heavily on my intuition as well as common sense. I seem to be holding my own, but who knows, because I have no idea where my compadres are. I do know that I am headed in the right direction at least!

Casting Off The Docklines

Departure :: July 2, 2016

I am writing this from Haunani’s cabin about 600nm along my way to Hawaii (pictures will be added when I return as I don’t have the capacity for uploading them now)

Everything has happened so fast that until now, I haven’t been able to really slow down and reflect on what it felt like to leave the dock. The days leading up to that much anticipated moment were a roller coaster ride of emotions. I had the most insane nervous stomach, and had to take deep breaths about every 4 seconds to quell my nerves. I carried on during those days, allowing myself the feelings but also maintaining my focus on the goal.

I have never felt so supported in any endeavor (yes, I will say it again). It was truly a team effort to get me here, and in those last couple of weeks, everyone seemed to step up their game to the point where I felt no stress at all (at least logistically speaking). My amazing brother and his lovely wife welcomed me into their home for two and a half weeks, fed me, leant me their car, ran errands for me and let me cry on their shoulders when needed. I have already written about the ladies and their heroic efforts in transporting my stuff up from LA and helping me prepare Haunani for our voyage. The owners of the marina where I stayed were beyond generous and gracious, and did not charge me for my slip as a way to support my journey. My friend Whitall helped me watch the weather for the week before the race, on top of offering his support and expertise as always. My dear friend Bill (a kick ass chef), volunteered to make all of my meals and froze them for me in single serve bags (seriously a life saver every day that I am out here). My sister in law Kate, drove all said meals (among other things) up from LA and schlepped my extraneous crap back with her. My new friend and fellow racer, Barry offered his support and knowledge any time I needed help or answers. My friend Rich built a super awesome shelf to stow my (potentially lethal) hatch board. Brian Boschma not only loaned me the famous emergency rudder, but came to my boat to help me trouble shoot an autopilot issue at the end of a busy workday when I was freaking out. He also followed up and as the race chair, has been a huge source of support throughout! Then of course, there is Thomas, without whom I wouldn’t be sailing to Hawaii right now. I know I always write about how thankful I am for him, but I don’t think words will ever do it justice. He continues to astound me with his generosity and dedication to my goal and to me. He flew up a few days before my start to sail with me and to help me knock out the remaining items on the dreaded list. Having him by my side professionally and personally throughout this journey has given me amd continues to give me great solace and strength. Somehow in those last days however, having him there transcended all of that. I don’t think I will ever be able to adequately express my gratitude and love for him.

The days leading up to my departure were filled with practice sails, unexpected and last minute boat repairs, provisioning, double-checking, organizing, and random projects, midnight worry sessions, lists upon lists….I could go on and on. We had a skipper’s meeting and a luncheon the day before the start, where I finally got to meet the rest of the racers and their families. It was wonderful to finally meet in person and to be able to encourage and support each other. I was especially happy to se my two PSSA buddies….a familiar anchorage in a sea of unknowns!

When the day finally arrived for me to leave, I awoke from a good night’s sleep with nerves aflutter. My amazing support team helped out with last minute provisions and checklists, and then all of a sudden I found myself being released from my side tie (another racer’s boat) and into a journey that I had been anticipating for so long. I backed out without a hitch (you know how nervous I get about docking and un-docking) and bade a final farewell to my family and friends on the dock. There were cheers for all of us as we pulled away, but of course I could feel mine the most profoundly. I motored out into the channel in front of the yacht club and set my sails. I was surprisingly not nervous. I was excited and ready, and somehow infused with confidence and calm. The next hour was a blur of tacking around in Raccoon Straights preparing for the start. As I got closer my autopilot remote stopped working, so I had a few weird moments made weirder by being in tight quarters with 20+ other boats. I recovered quickly and at 12:08 or so I made it across the start and headed out into the bay. The sail out was exhilarating to say the least. We were hauling ass and I was in my happy place! As I finally crossed under the bridge, a whale surfaced just near me. That is an omen I will never forget! I was really doing this!!!! The next few hours were spent tacking away from land with my fellow racers. We would wave and shout encouragement as our tacks crossed, until finally we all started to disperse onto our individual journeys. The last I saw of any of my compadres was early in the pre-dawn hours on Sunday. Two sailing vessels barely visible except or their nav lights in the foggy darkness. Since then I have not seen a soul (apart from 2 tankers from afar). It has been Haunani and me out here doing the best we can to chart a course across this huge sea.

I am humbled to be able to experience this magic, and to be able to push myself in this way. I am very present in my experience out here, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t counting the miles and hours until I arrive in paradise to see all of my fellow sailors, and especially my Dad. That for me is a vision I will hold in my mind’s eye until I feel his arms around me in Hawaii.

You Are As Ready As You Think You Are :: Wise Words

Yesterday was a big milestone for Haunani and me and all of the boat preparations so far. We had our safety inspection for the Singlehanded Transpac. The inspection was conducted by our designated LA area inspector for the SHTP, Whitall Stokes. I felt like I was very well prepared for the day, having gone through the checklist (what seemed to be) a million times. When Whitall arrived, we went through the list item by item. There were a few issues, and one glaring oversight on my part, but all in all it went well. By the end of the three hours that it took us to finish, my head was over full. Mostly full of thoughtful and useful recommendations from Whitall, but also of some sneaky fears that started to creep in due to all of the talk of what-ifs, safety precautions and such.

I didn’t realize how much of a toll all of this had taken on me until I woke up the next morning. I was utterly exhausted and my brain was swimming with what-ifs and potential scary scenarios that had never so vividly crossed my mind. I tried to shake it all off with a good cup of coffee, a work out and a workday on the boat, but it lingered heavily nonetheless. Thomas and I spent the afternoon working on our next batch of to-dos (which seems to be growing by the day, by the way). As focused as I was on our projects, all of my uncharacteristically paranoid thoughts continued to swirl (I hope I don’t get knocked down, what if my rudder falls off and I cannot get the e-rudder installed, what if I slip and break my leg, what if the electronics all fail and I am left to my own devices, what if I hit a shipping container, what if, what if, what if…..you get the drift). At the end of the day Thomas told me how amazing this was going to be for me, among other supportive and positive things. When I heard him say all of this, my thin veil of “toughness” was pierced, and I promptly welled up and pretty much lost it. I blurted out through my tears “I am scared”. There, I said it! Once I did, the waterworks turned on in earnest and I was able to voice every little worry from the real to the ridiculous. Thomas was, as always, the best listener and holder of space. He allowed me to let it all out, but also reassured me and helped me get back to a place of peace with it all. I am so grateful for our friendship and his support....I have no words. I am still feeling a bit raw, but I don’t want to run from that because I know that allowing these feelings is important. The process of preparing for this life changing adventure is every bit as emotional as it is logistical. The emotional was steering the ship yesterday, and I am so thankful that I am able to let my feelings out, experience them, and process them because they are an integral part of my journey. 

I suppose “scared” is an extreme term, because I am not terrified, or debilitated by the fear, but I say “scared” because this is unknown territory. As with every step of this journey, the unknowns have been daunting at times. With each experience of them however, I have moved through them to a new level of awareness… and also usually to a new fear. It’s a process and I am fully in it.

As one of my PSSA colleagues said the other day about me and my journey (when asked by another friend if he thought I was ready): “she is as ready as she thinks she is”. I am pretty sure he did not mean it to be taken in this way, but I look at this statement as a huge opportunity for me to believe in myself despite my fears…an opportunity to not allow them to derail me but rather to invite them to inspire self-inquiry and therefore growth.

Today I am feeling a bit more upbeat, and I am grateful for every feeling and nuance of this entire experience. It is already making me a stronger person, and a lot of that has come from allowing all of my feelings along the way. Its how I generally roll in life, so I am not sure why it feels more poignant in this situation, but it does.

my trusty inspector!

my trusty inspector!

 

 

400 Miles :: Finding My Way To Myself

I am not one to lose my words or ability to express my feelings very often, but somehow these two skills have been eluding me for days since I returned home last Wednesday morning from my 400 mile solo qualifying sail (for the Singlehanded Transpac). There was so much anticipation and nervousness leading up to this endeavor, that now that it is over, it seems far away and surreal. I had a lot of trepidation about this journey, but truthfully, leaving the dock was all it took to put the nervousness at bay. Once I was headed out, I felt at ease and at peace with what I was about to do.

After a lovely visit from some friends, and a flood of intense emotions that I did not expect, I left the dock at about 10pm on a Friday night. It was one of the most beautiful nights I have experienced in a long time. The wind was stiff, warm and uncharacteristically out of the north. The moon was waxing and just full enough to cast a beautiful light on the whole scene. As I exited the breakwater, I noticed a pretty large swell as well as more wind than I originally anticipated. Since I was heading out at night I thought I would be conservative and reef early. I am so glad I did, because once I attempted to reef my mainsail, I realized that the reefing lines were not in place. They had been removed that day to be reconfigured, and due to a misunderstanding, were not reinstalled (either by me or the person working on them). I was so disappointed and upset because I had bit the bullet, faced my nervousness and left the dock……I was on my way. I swallowed my disappointment, took ownership for my oversight, took a deep breath and headed back in to deal with it. Thankfully, I was close enough to the marina so that I could turn back and run the lines at my slip and not on a dark swelly sea. Once the reefing lines were in place, it was pretty late, and I was cross-eyed (not to mention the old sea adage of never leave the dock on a Friday was bobbing around in my head). I did not want to start my journey feeling like that, so I opted to get a good night’s sleep and head out early the next day. In the end, I am glad I did.

Saturday morning was a fresh start. I left my slip at about 7am, and headed out. I motored 10 miles to the northwest to get out to where I might see some wind. Thankfully at about 10am, the breeze came up and I was able to cut my engine and start sailing. My journey officially began in that moment. I was to sail 400 miles solo and non-stop before I returned home. The wind built throughout the morning, and before I knew it, I was double reefed and flying along in up to 26 knots of wind. I made great time out past Santa Barbara and San Nicolas Island. By the time the sun started to set, I could see them disappearing in my wake. I was a little queasy on this leg, which was very disconcerting as usual. I still loved every moment though and as the evening went on, I became more and more in shock and awe of what I was actually doing.

The next few days were filled with some of the most jaw dropping beauty I have ever seen. I was brought to tears numerous times. I felt as though I was in a sacred cathedral surrounded by spirit. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. Waking up every day in a 360’ bowl of glassy purple-blue sea to watch the sun rise out of this horizon was beyond breath taking. The color palette and texture was ever changing, so much so that I found myself exclaiming out loud on a regular basis. I tried to capture this magic in photos and videos, but I am quite sure that they will never do justice to the majesty that I witnessed out there.

The wind was very light for most of my journey, but apart from a couple of becalmed hours, it was enough to keep us moving. I was disappointed to not have more wind, but I realize now that having to be patient and sit with the quiet of it all was harder (better) for me than it would have been to have been distracted and consumed by the constant boat handling and movement that comes with big wind. I had to sit with myself, which mostly was harder than usual, becauseI had a hard time sleeping, and became exhausted. That coupled with my mild seasickness and lack of good hot food created a painful scenario for me. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of food, I just had really shitty food. I did not plan well, and underestimated the need for hearty home cooked meals. On a trip this short I could have easily planned for that, but did not. I will never do that again!

I did not see a soul in those 4 days and 4 nights, apart from a tanker in the distance. It was surreal to say the least. It was just my girl, the sea and me. It was the first time in my life I had been out of sight of land, and surrounded by 360’ of horizon for days on end. I thought that this might scare me, but instead, it gave me great solace. Surprisingly, I had no fears the entire time, except a brief bout of delirium (induced by sleep deprivation) in which I went down some negative roads about the possibility of pirates boarding my vessel in the night. Apart from this silly moment, a few battery issues and the angst that was created by feeling sick, I felt very safe, secure and happy out there.

I came to appreciate the simple rituals of my days and nights on the boat. I woke every 1-2 hours and logged my position, checked my sails, my batteries, the horizon and my chart plotter for ships and then tucked back on for another nap. During the day I was awake more, but still kept the routine of logging my position and checking all of the above regularly. I had a morning routine of cleaning and organizing the boat for a fresh start to the day. Mornings were when I felt best, so anything that required any energy was done then. The days and nights went on like this, augmented by nature’s beauty bringing me to my knees on a regular basis. I saw whales, dolphins, sea birds, land birds, jellyfish, dazzling stars, dramatic moonsets, sunsets and sunrises, the gamut of colors and textures of the sea and sky…it was utter magic. I listened to beautiful music, took sea water showers on the bow, lounged around without a stitch of clothing in the mid day sun, organized my boat, did some writing……there was a never ending infusion of beauty and inspiration which kept my spirits up despite feeling pretty crappy for most of my trip.

My favorite part of the trip was my last day and night. I was finally feeling better, which was cause for celebration in itself, but somehow that day seemed to hold the most magic of them all. I took in the sunset over San Nicolas Island on the bow with my 1st glass of wine of the trip. The combination of the island’s odd shape and the cloud formations made for one of the most spectacular sunsets of my life. I watched the liquid golden ball slowly drop as I reflected on so much….this experience, my life, loss, love, growth, my upcoming pacific crossing…it was a very introspective moment for me.. I was able to let go of some big things as that night arrived. Soon after dusk, I heard the blow of a whale very close to me. I could not see where it was, but the sound was so awesome and comforting. I was settling in for a long night of no wind (based on the predictions that were shared with me by sailing friends), when I felt a little ruffle in my hair. That is when I knew in my guts that I would be home by morning despite that bleak wind forecast. The breeze came up and I was soon scooting along into the night. When I reached Santa Barbara Island, the wind died for a bit, but I could see the wind line out past the island and my prediction definitely came true. I had the most incredible sail home that night under an almost full moon. I was moving along on a close reach at about 7 knots and Haunani was in her groove. I spent much more time on deck taking it all in than I had been able to before. I was feeling so good and was also so happy to be approaching my goal of sailing 400 miles alone. At about 4am, I crossed my personal finish line, and had a solitary celebration as Haunani carried me home. I watched the sun rise over Santa Monica Bay and turned my engine on as the wind died to travel the last 8 miles to the marina. I received so many lovely and supportive texts and calls as I made my way home, and was greeted on the dock by friends when I pulled in. All of this topped off with a HUGE and much needed hot breakfast complete with mimosas. I was delirious but beyond happy!

Once I got my wits about me and could reflect on my experience clearly, I understood why they make you do this to qualify for the Singlehanded Transpac. It is truly a shakedown trip. It is just long enough to see if you can be out there with yourself, and like the company you keep. It is just long enough to test your boat, your systems and your will. It is just long enough to push yourself to the edge of exhaustion to see how you react. It is just long enough to know whether you like being alone on a 34 foot capsule in the midst of a 360’ sphere of unpredictable natural solitude. Turns out I did! In fact, I loved it!

I loved the solace of the endless horizon. I loved being surrounded by water and sky. I loved that every moment was filled with natural beauty with each experience of it more surprising and unique than the next. I loved the routine of being at sea and the simplicity of daily life. I loved that I could only rely on myself at any given time. I loved that the only one out there to hold me accountable was me. I loved the quiet windless moments and the intense windy ones equally. I loved being a part of every mood of the sea. I loved the moon and the stars and every sunrise and sunset. I loved the sound of the water moving along Haunani's hull as I slept. I loved the steadfastness of my boat and how safe she always made me feel. I am truly humbled and deeply changed by the whole experience, and I know that this is only the tip of the iceberg! Talk to me in mid July!

Lessons learned:

Plan for meals and make sure hearty hot meals are involved!

Measure water intake and make sure I always drink even if I am not thirsty.

I am responsible for my boat, and the buck stops with me.

I need to learn more about efficient energy management.

Take motion sickness medicine before I leave on a big trip.

As Dad told me....make a check list and perform it every day.

SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

our track complete with my 52 mile dogleg in the middle :-)

our track complete with my 52 mile dogleg in the middle :-)

3 Months From Today :: Plus A Little Shout Out

I spent the early hours of my Saturday morning lounging in bed with my dogs, drinking coffee and reading from a beautiful book that was recently given to me by a dear friend. The book is called Blue Horizons and is a wonderful collection of short pieces about some pretty badass sailing adventures. Beth Leonard’s writing style speaks deeply to my soul, my sense of adventure and how the two are inseparable. I lost myself in her dreamy prose for a couple of hours and then headed out on a beautiful Southern California day for a walk with my pups. As I meandered out onto the Venice Pier to take in the waves and the view, something hit me….today is April 2! That means that my departure for Hawaii is 3 MONTHS FROM TODAY! Deep breath! A thousand deep breaths……

I am more ready than I have ever been, yet still healthily nervous about the whole endeavor. I am living and breathing all things Haunani and sailing right now, and yet in these coming 3 months, I still have some key things to prepare on my boat, a 400-mile qualifier to complete, and a boat to get to San Francisco. More deep breaths!

Sometimes I cannot believe that this is all happening! I suppose I should not be surprised at myself, for once I decide to do a thing, there is no stopping me, least of all time constraints. Who says I can’t decide to sail to Hawaii alone and get my boat and myself ready for something I have never done before in 10 months? Ha! It makes me chuckle at myself as I look back at my history of many such (insane?) undertakings. I would like to say it is all me, my headstrong nature, and my powers of manifestation that have made this happen, but I could never have even contemplated this without the help and support of so many incredible people. The one that stands out the most however, is my dear friend and soul-brother, Thomas Lehtonen.

Thomas has been 100% on-board since I announced this hair-brained scheme last September, and has never once questioned my intentions or plans. He has gone above and beyond to bring Haunani up to and beyond par. Not only has he graced my boat with his far-reaching and unmatched expertise, but he has also graced my life with his undying support, deep loving friendship, pep talks and gut busting sense of humor. He is the first to comfort me and lift me up when things get hard, and also the first to let me go out and do what I need to do (without cautioning or judging me) when he knows I need to prove something to myself. My friendship with Thomas could never fit into any kind of description, and certainly not into this blog post, but suffice it to say, I could never have gotten here without his love and support. I love you Thomas! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!

Thomas aboard his beautiful Cal 36, Runaway Blues

Thomas aboard his beautiful Cal 36, Runaway Blues