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The various shades of Blue in Paradise

There are many shades of blue while at sea. There's the deep royal blue of rolling waves under storm in daylight—a blue to be respected. Shades of turquoise and emerald salt water layered over white sand and reefs. There's the steely gray blue of a flat sea under an overcast sky. The frothy pastels and periwinkle of a wave's crest, just before it smacks the tail of your stern. There's the metallic blue of sea sparkling under the sun. A myriad of yellows, pinks, oranges, and purples as the reflecting sun sets behind the ocean's silhouette. A deep navy hue at midnight. The vast blackened blue, dreary eyed on night watch.

Our shades of mood are just as varied as we make this adventure "home." Laughter, inspiration, exhilaration, love, anger, frustration, and tears. I shared on facebook the other day ...

"The family sailing life is HARD WORK. Big payoffs, but it's physically and emotionally draining sometimes. Sometimes we fight in beautiful places. Sometimes I'm depressed and anxious in scenic locales that you can only get to by boat. Sometimes I feel devastated and like everything is wrong amidst turquoise blue and the lull of crashing waves. But that's the cosmic joke. No matter where you are, there you are. I'm saying yes to feeling all the feelings in the face of adventure. I'm saying yes to love. And, I'm saying no to the alluring trap of the grass always being greener. Oh, and a big fat YES to red lipstick at sea."

In response, I think my pop said is best ...

"One thing that I came to realize after spending time with you guys is that you're doing an extremely HARD thing. While it's true you're "living the dream", I don't think most people connect the "dream" and the difficulty. Raising Jude, living in a confined space, and irregular sleep patterns is a hard way to live. Facing the fear of the unknown elements is truly difficult but very courageous.The benefits from your experience doing this will be unparalleled by most anything else. I really believe, deep in my heart, that what you're doing is preparing you to do greater things in your life. All three of you. I have the utmost respect for you and Jon. I'm at peace with your decision to do this."

How's that for Decision?! This is certainly the hardest decision we've ever made. The logistics of leaving alone were an enormous hurtle for Jon and I to conquer. At the onset, Jon and I mastered each difficult decision with more diplomacy than we had ever mustered before, and that new found diplomacy was part of how we knew our compass was calibrating right.

Living full time aboard a boat, the lack of personal space is laughable. The boundaries of this experience corner you into dealing with your shit because when shit hits the fan, there's nowhere to go! Well, there's the bow of the boat. Or you can jump in and go for a swim. Or turn the other way and walk 5 feet from your culprit—whether your culprit is your lover, your whining toddler, things falling everywhere inside the cabin as the boat heels, or your misbehaving outboard. You tell me. When your feathers are ruffled and you need space, does 5 feet cut it? Hell no! Yet here we are, amidst the hardest yet most fulfilling shades of blue, feeling all the feels and making it work.

I think you almost need to be a bit of an extremophile or a glutton for punishment to thrive in the family sailing life. There are times I want to quit. In fact, one week before our big Washington to San Fran passage, I almost bailed. I'll just fly to San Fran with Jude and meet Jon there, I thought. Amidst bouts of depression and anxiety, I feared that the various shades of mood and blues would worsen at sea and I would find myself in an impossible passage of life with no escape. My friend Kristi spent hours with me on the phone, asking some hard questions. "Why are you doing this?" Jon and I had to resolve that question down to it's core before we left. I mean, we knew in theory why we're doing this: because we've been planning the trip for 6 years ... because I've wanted to do this all my life ... because it's badass! But there were deeper reasons we had to resolve. For Jon, I knew he hit the nail on the head as he said, "... because I want to be the sort of person that can do this. If I don't do it, I'll regret if for the rest of my life." My resolve is very similar. This is who I want to be. I know that by leaning into the challenges we face on this adventure, I'm fast forwarding my personal growth. The growth of our family. My ability to deal with adversity while simultaneously reveling in the exhilaration and awe we find as the sails set amidst the juiciest of nature's scenery. And having come all the way down the United States west coast, we now know that we'll trade this lack of personal space, the hard work, the lack of funds, the cranky idiosyncrasies of a boat, and cramped quarters with a toddler for being stuck in traffic in the city any day.

After our first 7 day passage at sea as a family, a fellow sailor friend wrote:

"For what it's worth, for many years of cruising the nastiest conditions I encountered were when leaving home, in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, trying to get from Friday Harbor to Port Angeles: 40+, shitty seas, horizontal water everywhere, etc. Well, you've seen 40+ and shitty seas, in an area that has a reputation for kicking people's asses. Not sayin' you won't see harsh conditions again; Neptune can have a short memory and an evil temper. But now you have a metric, and when other people are soiling their shorts 'cause it's blowing 25 and they're heeling hard and waves are breaking into the cockpit, you will be cruisin' with grins on your faces, stoked at how flat your boat's staying and how fast you're sailing with a reef in the main. Not many people have what it takes to do what you're doing; not many people realize how deep you have to reach inside at times, how many meetings you will have with yourself, and how dissatisfied you will be at times with what you find. Self-knowledge always seems to come with a price. But you guys are taking that all on, and that's wonderful."

It's been an amazing trip down the U.S.coast. We lazed and dazed in British Columbia for the summer—our subconscious completely unaware of "autumn" looming in the seasons, bound for a year in the sun as we continued south. We conquered our first offshore passage as a family: 7 days at sea, 100+ nautical miles from land, during which we basked in the spiritual bounty of the full solar eclipse. During the totality of the eclipse, it literally felt like every cell in my body was being bathed in silk. We cruised under the Golden Gate bridge after that intrepid week at sea, unfolding a cacophony of life and sound abound as herds of sea lions undulating through the waves, sharks, countless species of birds, humpbacks, dolphins, and the SMELL of land (it's a real thing!) surrounded our boat. It was a riveting welcome after a desolate week at sea. On the other side of the bridge, San Francisco—where land and winds and time and humans all worked in concert to orchestrate a magnificent meeting with the sea. We were greeted in the Bay area with overwhelming love from family, friends, and fortuitous encounters with strangers. We spent the better part of a month in the bay area as Jon assisted another sailing vessel to L.A., and Jude and I soaked in the California sun and played with our friends aboard sailing vessel Tuamish. We sailed through the Channel Islands with our crew Robyn, the first of which was San Miguel island. Landing there was the first time that we felt like we've arrived. A hot, arid, and turquoise blue climate vastly different from the dank and mossy northwest. My fellow family boat momma, Laura Sage, aboard Tuamish very eloquently captured the essence of the islands when she shared, "The Channel Islands swept me in and has captured my heart. The landscape, flora and fauna and wildlife was stunning. A land virtually untouched, feeling more like Jurassic park."

We'll now spend the better part of October in the San Diego area, as we prep for a couple more passages down the coast of Mexico into the Sea of Cortez. I'm looking forward to more red lipstick at sea and feeling all the feels, as we conquer the various shades of blue in paradise.

I'm pretty sure we were fighting 5 minutes before this photo, then all tumbled down on the grass and fell in love again. <3


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