Travel Reference
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horse diesel work a little harder. Soon I was rounding the last, red, channel marker, leaving
it to port, and choosing a heading in the general direction of Lanai. The wind was slowly
picking up, and I dashed up to the mast, after throwing the gear in neutral. The washy hiss
and splash of a gentle bow wave sounded up ahead, assuring me that we were definitely
under way.
Murphy was getting lonely or bored and a little weary of the continual noise of the engine.
He started meowing, softly at first, then that turned into an angry yell, “Is there anyone who
gives a damn?” he was saying. I jumped down below, grabbed him and his box, and hurried
up again. The sun was up now, and he was quite content to sit in his box in the morning sun
and smell the fresh breeze coming across the bow. He sniffed in appreciation and began
washing his paws: a sure sign that all was well with the immediate world.
The wind increased in strength to where I could set the self-steering vane, and eventually I
was able to turn off the noisy, little engine. The silence was most welcome. I said a thank
you prayer to God for all the good things that had been bestowed upon me and felt at peace
with everything. We drifted along at three knots, easing up and down to a slight wave swell.
I was free from the confines of the helm at last, something every single-hander will appreci-
ate. Frigates were dotted around in social groups in the sun. The island of Oahu was a great,
green emerald blazing in the morning light; it looked stunning with the crumbling volcano,
Diamond Head, forming the familiar skyline. I couldn't make out Molokai or Lanai yet in
the grey, blue distance.
Déjà vu was heeled over slightly, in response to the wind's pressure on the sails, wafting
gently up and down as she eased herself along towards her distant destination. The sun was
warm on my body; there was no need to wear clothes out here, and it felt exhilarating to be
so utterly without care or responsibility. I wished everybody on earth could feel like this at
least once in their lives. Maybe they do, I wouldn't know. Maybe it comes in other forms,
other lifestyles? I have lived quite a varied life and have never felt this euphoria in anything
but when I am alone, out at sea, far from land, in warm sunshine and danger free weather.
This works for me, probably not for everybody.
I made my way up to the front where the hobby horsing motion was more accentuated. I
climbed over the pulpit and onto the bowsprit, and sat down at the forward point looking
towards where we were headed. My outstretched feet just cleared the purple blue water
hissing quietly underfoot. I thrilled at the feeling of how alive my lovely, lady boat felt.
Yes, she was alive at sea, moving in quiet dignity as she pressed along, her skirts whis-
pering slightly. I turned around and faced back towards the stern. Looking high up at the
mast and slightly fluttering sails, I saw with pride her innocent, white wings full and by and
asleep, her teak decks wet and bright in the sunlight snaking in a curve out of sight behind
the freshly painted cabin, and her bright, bolt-studded port holes winking in the glare. Yes,
