What happens when you take a small group of teenagers away from their families, friends, school schedule, phones, and organized activities, and sail for twelve hours across to Isle Royale for a weeklong circumnavigation? Well, quite a lot.
We’ve taken hundreds of people sailing on multi-day trips, and the transition to boat life for teens is not so different as the rest of us. I love watching people adjust to life on a boat. There can be a sense of a vacuum at first (“What do we do all day?”) But then, the hours just start to drift by. This year’s teens were lucky; their adjustment to the motion was gentle and built over time. At first, they did a lot of sitting and watching the waves roll under the hull with a gentle rhythmic gurgling. Then they start to branch out. There were conversations to be had, card games to be played, or riddles to be worked out in the cockpit. There was reading, writing, and painting, sewing, napping, and vegging out. They might seem occasionally bored, or excited, for a time, but as the days progress, the wind and waves draw them in, turning off stress hormones unless they are actually needed—like when the boat heels over in a gust or the body is submersed in chilling water.
Teens, we have discovered over the years, are all night owls. This means they are very slow in the morning, barely able to roust themselves out of their sleeping bags and store them away in time to sit down to breakfast. Cracking eggs and cutting fruit is done willingly but slowly. After a few mouthfuls of oats, cinnamon, and honey, they are able to reflect briefly on their sleep or their dreams. Bug bites are reported, snoring documented.
Sailing this year was delightfully comfortable, with surface water temperatures on the open lake reaching 60°F or above by early July. Someone was always at the wheel, “on watch” for an hour at a time. The rest of the crew, “off watch,” moved about as the spirit moved them—now up at the bow (harnessed to the boat in case of sudden heeling over), now back in the cockpit with a book, now down below getting a snack, playing cards, or napping. If it’s windy and bouncy below, lunch is carefully handled. Bowls of soup get passed, one by one, with crackers, to people already sitting down. Bread, cheese, and peanutbutter is self-serve from the galley sink, where condiments clank against each other but cannot tip over.
Once we arrive at our destination for the day, the anchor goes down, the motor goes off, and in the sweet silence a subtle but dramatic transition takes place. No longer are we “on watch,” responsible for keeping our boat moving safely and efficiently through dangerous territory. It is now a home, not to be thought of as a vessel (except by the captain) until further notice. The sails are covered, the kayaks launched and the dinghy assembled. Once the ladder is lashed down, it doesn’t take long for someone to jump in. Soon we are all dipping, yelling, shouting. Swimming in Lake Superior, everyone agrees, makes them feel “alive.” As this wakefulness encompasses the group, energy re-builds. Fancy jumps, egging each other on, a few slip on the deck. The sound of good clean fun is music to our ears. This is the way things should be. Who can argue with the vitality of youth?
Then, things settle again. We dry off. Dinner prep begins. Books and magazines come out, and another round of card games begins at the table. Someone goes fishing, or takes out the kayak around the anchorage. Dinner smells start to pervade the cabin.
Because of the heat, we eat out in the cockpit. For the first time all day, serious sides come out. Over one-pot meals of potatoes, beef, lentils, and vegetables, slathered with the condiment of choice, we pass a question for everyone to answer in their own way. Stories start to come out and the chatterers learn to listen. Who has mentored you in your life? Who have you mentored? What mistakes have you learned from? What are you most proud of about your family? What is your biggest challenge in school?
Dishes take time, and no teen that I know does dishes quickly. Adults try to help; we stack the bowls, scrape up leftovers for tomorrow’s soup, start the kettle for hot rinse water, and make it as easy as we can. But still, teenagers need to contemplate dishes for a few minutes before they stick their hands in the cold soapy water, and it will be at least half an hour before they emerge.
Then, right about when the adults are winding down, teenage energy begins to ramp up. Stories become hilarious or edgey. Mark and I retire, leaving our counselor to handle the evening antics. Comments, teasing, jokes, can be taken too far, but teenagers also have a strong sense of fairness. If the score is uneven, chores are switched around until everyone agrees that the playing field is fair again. No one wants to go to bed with hard feelings.
By 9:00, the bugs are out and we are all in the cabin with the screens up. The card marathon begins that would go on indefinitely, accompanied by louder and more raucous commentary and laughter. The tone gets conspiratorial but when I concentrate and listen, I’m relieved. They are still kids.
When lights out is called, things quiet down. From the v-berth I hear the sounds of teeth-brushing and bunk-making. The storage bins are shoved in and out a few times. There are still giggle eruptions and “shhhhhhh…..” as they do their darndest to settle down. The little mini-fans are on, the nightlights are turned off, and soon all is quiet.
I write about “them” but of course they are really all different from each other. Luke’s broad and deep understanding of climate change and penchant for losing things. Steinar’s limitless longing to be in the water. Aliya’s readiness to help in the kitchen and sharpness to pick up any game. Mason’s vigorous and delighted rowing in circles. Owen’s steadiness at the wheel. Finnlay (our counselor)’s light footstep everywhere, and his constant communication with all of us.
It's good to know, when we hear so much about problems, that kids are still kids—innocent, eager to do the right thing, fun-loving, curious, and respectful of authority. What is needed are adults that know how to create the world that will allow them to act their age.