Sea Change Expeditions is three weeks into our month aboard, sitting at anchor in Taconite Harbor. Pea soup fog keeps us from seeing much outside, but we are grateful for the chill after serious heat in Marquette and Houghton. My heart is full, so here is some of the outpourings....
Two nights ago we sailed here from Michigan on a rainy, dark overnight. Mark called it just hours before takeoff, having decided that a nighttime passage would be the best wind and the safest journey, despite the fact that we had just completed a full day of programming and were still tired from our overnight two days before. Everyone but me adjusted quickly. I struggled. My eyes were heavy with weariness and Mark didn't lie about the potential for rousting conditions and/or rain. Sensing my wariness, he did all the heavy lifting, lying in the cockpit with the on-watch crew most of the night.
For me, lying in the quarterberth by the back hatch, it was a relatively peaceful and stable night. The red light from the chart table cast a familiar light on the cabin. The swishing of the waves through the hull was loud and constant and assured me of fair winds. The motion went from calm to gentle--and stayed there. Transitions for on-watch were efficient, the only sound the clicking of caribeanners to harness oneself to the boat, the clicking of the cabinet handle holding the muffin snacks, and the muffled clunk of bog boots climbing the steps. Then, the low tone of conversation as the person leaving tells the person arriving the conditions, the direction, and what to expect. At one point, fully awake, it was silent for so long that I wondered. Then, a single question from Mark, dozing in the cockpit, "How's it going?" and Katie's cheerful and wide awake reply. "Fine! Yep!" Ahh. Katie is at the wheel, and all is well. I could drift off again, satisfied that the winds were steady and the pelting rain was not getting anyone down. When Mark finally got me up at 4:00 CT, I could make out shapes in the cockpit and the rain was reduced to a drizzle. Brandi was just going on watch, and so together we watched black turn to gray turn to lighter gray--not the gorgeous sunset morning, but it had its particular charm. Birds chirped nearby and flew into the cockpit. The rhythmic swish of the waves became slowly visible around us. When it was light enough to video without a flash, I made an attempt to catch the feeling. Of course, the video didn't even come close.
Yes, we've reached that comfortable state--we've formed, stormed, normed, and are performing now. We can take off into the biggest lake in the world in rain and fog right when everyone else is going to sleep, and barely skip a beat. We arrived in thick fog and overshot the entrance to the harbor, despite our 2-knot speed, four people peering out, and my eyes glued to the radar. On our second attempt we found the breakwall before hitting it, and put-putted our way along it until we were in. Safely moored, we finished our day with a special dinner--a free range chicken and mashed potatoes. By evening we tried a sing-a-long with the guitar, discussed books, and did art. Andrew is an amazing artist and Isa loves to paint in his pen drawings.
Meantime, have we done any good in the world outside our cabin? Thursday's program in the drizzle with 24 6th graders reassures me that we are doing something right as well. After our plastics talk, our skits, our games, and our boat tours, we bring the kids to our homemade sail map of Lake Superior, signed by hundreds of coastline kids who have committed themselves to the "Clean Cold and Clear" Challenge (what we want for Lake Superior). We urge them to sign only if they are ready to step up in some way, and we have numerous suggestions if they are still wondering what they could do. Over half the kids signed.
Our last week will be a long, slow homecoming. Lots of time back on the north shore. Several more school programs and virtual programs. Visits with friends and meet-ups with Cedar and Lamar, including a potential home track meet that we all hope to attend in Two Harbors. We'll see what actually happens but I know it will be good.
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