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Across the Sea
letters home from a 29-day transatlantic journey
by Barbara J. Euser
Excerpts:
Dean and Piper and Helane,
Last night just after sunset, I was sitting in the cockpit with Karson. She mentioned some trinkets she had bought in Madeira for friends and family, and I realized I hadn’t bought trinkets for anyone. I don’t like trinkets very much, but they do let people know you were thinking of them while traveling. I am thinking of you all the time. I’ve decided to give you a present of words in the form of a letter. It won’t be chronological, because I am starting on Day 18 of the voyage. And it won’t include everything, because that is not possible. But I will try to paint some word pictures for you so that you can form an impression of the time I spent away from you. . .
. . . . . . In a book I’m reading called We the Navigators, about how stars, sun, wind and currents are used by South Sea islanders instead of compasses for navigation, winds from different directions have different names. I thought about that last night, as the east and northeast winds were making an effort to gain dominance over the southeast wind. The islanders name the winds based where they come from – thus it was Azorian Wind and Moroccan Wind that were fighting against Conakry Wind. The main filled and backfilled, but eventually Conakry Wind won the competition and strengthened, pushing us on our way. . . . . . . . . Slowly and steadily Karson winched me upward. I gripped the mast with my legs and hugged it with my arms, but it was difficult to keep from swinging side to side as the boat rolled in the waves. We had chosen a calm moment for me to begin my ascent, but as Karson hauled me up, gusts of wind caused the boat to roll even more. When I finally reached the spreaders, I was shocked to see how much farther I had to go. But Karson kept raising me, and I kept pushing my prussig loop up, with the spinnaker halyard coiled over my right arm. Finally, I reached the top of the mast. I then had to uncoil the halyard and feed it through the block. Of course, it tangled.It took all my concentration to focus on what I had to do. Do not look at the water. Do not look at the horizon. Do not look at the little deck so far below. . .
