Time to wrap up a different kind of a sailing season. Like everyone, we experienced our lows! Cancel, cancel, cancel. Young adults, adults, trips to Isle Royale. In a fit of hope we rescheduled the teen trip, and got within a stone's throw of making it happen via a pre-board COVID testing regime for ourselves and our excited teens. But in the end, the testing capacity was not there at the time we needed it.
On the flip side, our day sails took off, setting to rest our financial worries (for the time being) and attuning us to the acute privilege we share of getting out on the peaceful, restful, airy, fresh, wilderness that is Lake Superior. Add to that the good luck of relatively dry, hot, sunny weather, and many thunderstorms conveniently barrelling through overnight. We celebrated birthdays and anniversaries in unprecedented numbers and received profuse thanks (and generous tips) beyond any previous year. Maybe our purpose this summer was to respond to the sense of crisis by offering people a short but thorough break from the anxiety that seems to fuel moments in history such as these.
Fall continued the day sail bonanza but by then we were less anxious about $$$ and more aware of our own need for, and permission to, R and R. Mark and I spent 3 nights together, sailing back from Grand Marais to Knife River, in mid-September. We had not sailed overnight alone, that we could remember, since our honeymoon! We enjoyed ourselves immensely. The peace and quiet, the dulling of daily tasks and responsibilities, and the mesmerizing, contemplative effect that Lake Superior wind and waves, inspired several deeper conversations about our future. We see the inevitable "launch" ahead as the girls leave home, and until now had not looked past the sadness of that (despite its rightness--we know it's all good!). But during this time we returned to our two-some energy field, on our beloved boat home packed with the memories of the dozens of people who have lived with us there. It helped that the girls were managing their lives at home just fine without us. We started to imagine "the next chapter." No concrete plans yet, and it is still a few years away!--but know that it will surely involve sailing, and people, and adventure, and making the world a better place.
On a long MEA weekend, the Gordon family sailed to the South Shore (Port Wing) to see some old and faithful homeschooling family friends. It didn't work out quite like I envisioned. The trip across on Thursday morning was boisterous, with an inauspicious beginning. Ten minutes from departure, Lamar assessed the wave height and then told us, from the top of the hatch, "Good night everyone. I'm going to bed." Cedar and Mark put up a double-reefed main and I got the headsail out, but we were quickly overpowered and the wind was really more NW then SW....Mark determined that the main should come down. Cedar and I were not up to the task, I guess, and with a huge main sail flapping around and the boat turning pretty wildly, I eventually returned to the cockpit with my tail between my legs and took over the helm. In short order Mark had the main under control. Next he gybed the headsail, while informing me that he had ripped the main sail yet again while getting it under control a few minutes before. (That thing is in tatters and a new one has been ordered. )
Port Wing did not live up to its "tropical" reputation--the sand beaches were cold and windy, the "warmer" water was 40 degrees and brown, and the wind howled in the rigging. To top it all off, all but Mark had colds by Friday morning.
Still, all agreed it was fun. Our homeschooling friends were as hardy and loyal as ever; we managed three chilly visits. Otherwise, the girls spent the day in the cozy heated cabin. Mark and I braved a few walks. Friday night we watched the movie "Lincoln" on the computer with ginger cake and tea. Saturday morning we rose on the early side (given October morning darkness--another factor I had forgotten about when we made this plan in sunny August) and got out on the water while it was still pretty calm. The radio bleated anxiety--small craft advisory, winter weather advisory, rain and snow and wind--so we turned that off and enjoyed the ride. The winds never got above 10 knots from right behind us, so we motorsailed to get to full speed. (I guess that says something about our desire to get back!) It did rain/snow/hail lightly most of the way, but the girls stayed inside and I was bundled to the hilt and never got terribly cold. We were home by mid-afternoon and Mark hauled Amicus II out of the water less than 48 hours later. With snow and gales predicted for the next two weeks, it seemed best.
What will our world be like when Amicus II goes back in in April of 2021? All predictions welcome!