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Romance of the sea
is lost amid raging storms

He says it was also my dream to sail across the Pacific Ocean to Florida via the Panama Canal and spend a couple of seasons cruising the Intracoastal Waterway along the East Coast. But it wasn't, really. It's just that I never had a retirement dream of my own, and my husband, Hal, and I had sailed together in Hawaiian waters for more than 25 years. I never wanted us to look back in our later years and say, "We wish we had."

We spent a year, full time, outfitting our 35-foot aluminum-hull sailboat, named HENCE. I call her a tank since she can take the waves like a champ. The longest leg of our journey was the Pacific crossing, which was 39 days from the Ala Wai Boat Harbor to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. We set sail in mid-March so we could get through the Caribbean and to Florida before the hurricane season, which was the right thing to do because the summer of 2004 brought one hurricane after another.

The downside to the timing was the risk of hitting late-winter Pacific storms. Which we did. Nearly three weeks of the 39 days were spent heeled over 20 to 30 degrees, crashing and bashing up, over and across 20-foot seas and 30- to 40-knot winds and higher gusts. How could this have been anyone's dream?

There is no such thing as being a "couple" at sea. There is the skipper and the crew. There is no "us," no intimacy either physical or emotional. The skipper's job is to get the crew and the boat from point A to point B, alive.

Thank heavens we had a dear friend, Dave, with us who was an expert seaman with an uncanny sense of wind, waves and weather. I pretty much folded after several days of storms and couldn't handle the physical aspects of taking a watch, particularly the night watch, alone.

FOR ME the sea first drained me physically, then sapped my spirit, then broke my heart. I am recovering from the crashing and bashing of the seas, but I will never recover from what I did not experience. I could not get beyond the fear and isolation to thrill in the beauty of blue-water sunsets and billions of stars and the presence of an ultimate being that could create something so majestic and enable a small boat to survive.

I marvel at the romantic image people have of sailing. For me it was living and sleeping in my life vest and practicing opening and closing my knife with one hand in case the boat broached and I had to cut myself loose from the rigging. With the motion and heel of the boat, all actions are done in slow motion as you brace your body for each crash and bash. The good news is, you lose weight because you cannot eat enough to compensate for energy consumption.

Staying below felt safe for me. I could handle that and even found comfort in the daily rhythm of cooking and cleaning. I am just super below. I could sauté heaps of potatoes and onions while heeled over tied in with my galley harness in the bone-chilling winter seas, as well as in the sweltering humid seas of Panama and Central America.

I grew sprouts, made biscuits and baked a birthday cake, which are all things I never did on land. I made hot cocoa and delicious fresh-brewed coffee for the men as they started their watches. I plugged leaks, knew where everything was and kept us orderly. I did not get seasick.

I also was a whiz on the ham radio, never missing roll call for the daily Pacific Seafarers net no matter what the weather. It was a lifeline and an obligation because many family and friends were tracking us through the Seafarers Web site.

I will never do another ocean crossing, but I will continue coastal cruising with Hal as long as we stay within sight of land.

I like having bragging rights to our adventure. My real dream, however, is to be in my favorite place in the world, Hanalei Bay on Kauai, anchored in 12 feet of pristine water surrounded by mountain mists, waiting for Puff the Magic Dragon to appear.

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