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good to have him back on-board; he was a good crew and fine brotherly company. Stockier
than I, his extra strength was most welcome on a number of occasions and his dry sense
of humor best appreciated only by a twin brother. He had a gift of seeing the funny side to
most situations and would always have people laughing in no time at all.
For the first time in a while we were able to sit and relax in the cockpit enjoying the morn-
ing sun beating down on us. It was a sparkling day with the emerald green St. Maarten
shrinking behind us. The self-steering vane was silently working, and the promise of a sail-
ing adventure was as real as the tangy, salt spray on our lips.
It is hard to describe the joyous feeling of sailing to someone who has never sailed. There
are no similar motions to be found on land as the sea has several different moods. These
motions will cause mal de mar in most cases when one is new to sailing and even to old
salts that have been landlocked for a long time.
That morning the motion under Déjà vu's keel was easy and graceful. Swaying along like
the lady she was, she rolled slightly to the purplish blue waves that washed under her keel.
The sky was vast and bright with white, puffy clouds along the horizon and scattered about
the blue orb. Frigates, terns, and other sea birds wheeled aimlessly around and there was a
quiet and peaceful quality about.
The feelings that Gavin and I experienced now therefore were of absolute joy stemming
from such wonderful freedom with a boat at our command, fully provisioned with food
and spares. We had some cash to spare, were young and healthy, and sailing in one of the
most glorious areas in the world. We had thousands of sea miles ahead of us with exciting,
spicy islands and places to visit and new friends to make. What more could a person ask
for?
For me, there was a joyous feeling of achievement to see and feel Déjà vu surging power-
fully ahead propelled by nothing but loads of free wind and knowing that I had built her
from the ground up in my backyard and here she was, lively under foot, her sails crackling
in the bright Caribbean sunshine, heeled over slightly in the warm, easterly trade wind.
There is freshness, purity, and a sense of timelessness that comes from sailing: a private
quality that flows from the heart, that makes a soul sing with happiness, a challenging ex-
perience that always strengthens one's character, and when the salt is in the blood very little
else can take its place. There is really nothing quite like surging quietly along in a well-
found boat in the warm trades.
I was standing on the coach roof when Gavin appeared from the companion way. He looked
ahead over the spray dodger and I did a little jiggery jigs with the weasel face where I bared
my teeth in a flat-lipped grimace which we had perfected as kids. It was the usual sign that
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