On Kailoa, particularly during an overnight passage, we are totally in sync with the planet’s rhythms, which generally go unnoticed in our land-based lives. A sunset signals the coming of darkness at sea, and last night was one of those events.
Our 220-mile passage took us around Cape Fear, past frying pan shoals at about 8 p.m., under a waxing crescent moon. On cloudy nights, it’s pitch dark, and navigation requires effort. During this passage, we were in total blackness.
Despite the challenges, we navigated through the darkness with steady determination. Spotting a distant tugboat, we strained our eyes to discern if it was towing a barge. AIS didn’t provide any more clues. The situation became tense as we rounded frying pan shoals off Cape Fear. With little room (< 1 NM) to maneuver, we had to clear the vessel and the shoal in the blackness of the night. Our successful navigation through these obstacles filled us with a sense of accomplishment and a reminder that we can overcome challenges.
We take turns on the watch at night, sometimes three hours on, three hours off, sometimes four hours on, and four hours off, depending on who’s most tired. It’s been freezing, and keeping warm is a struggle. Temperatures have been in the low 30s, and who knows how cold it is when you add dampness and wind to the equation? It’s hard to stay focused when the seas are calm, but the night requires vigilance as we watch for other boats, buoys, and other hazards that one might encounter along the way. We watch for wind shifts. We watch the trim of our sails. We ensure we keep course hours upon hours. Being at the helm is work. There’s no instant gratification. You must take the long view with a leap of faith that as the hours tick away, so will the miles, and eventually, your future port will be in front of you.
Spotting the dim lights of a city 30 miles offshore or the waypoint channel marker at the harbor entrance leads to a sense of success in staying the course. But it’s not just about the destination. The journey, with its challenges and triumphs, brings us closer as a team. We depend on each other, and this mutual reliance fosters a deep sense of care and connection. Whether laying a blanket in a lap or warming up some coffee to take the edge off, we look out for each other, strengthening our bond and making us feel like an integral part of a unified team.
We reflect on the message in a book our daughter gave us called “The Comfort Crisis” by Michael Easter. The author shares his experience living in nature during the winter in the Alaskan backcountry and discusses how facing discomfort head-on can be transformative. He states, “Hardship was a constant companion of our forebears, molding their physical and mental abilities. They frequently faced the harshness of nature, exerted significant effort to secure sustenance and shelter, and constantly encountered dangers to their existence”. Engagement with adversity is absent in contemporary humans living in climate-controlled homes and unlimited resources. Easter believes that intentionally embracing challenging experiences unlocks our innate capacity for growth and resilience. Even though we are cold, Easter’s book reminds us of how privileged we are, at the age of 66, to live and grow through this experience.
On night passages, we eagerly anticipate the first glimmer of the sunrise a couple of hours before it emerges, signaling the beginning of a new day, a new place, and all its possibilities. The sight of the sun, traveling 93 million miles in 8 minutes and 20 seconds, radiates warmth to our bodies as the night fades to daylight. This miracle, which would go unnoticed while in the comfort of our bed at home, fills us with a sense of hope and excitement for the new day ahead.
Kailoa signing off!
Happy Birthday to our niece Molly, who turns 33 today!
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