Gratitude, both the name of the boat-home that would carry us far away and the feeling that washed over me as I boarded the boat on that morning of July 10th 2024. The name inspired in me a quiet thankfulness for this vessel that would carry us across the waves.
Having ensured we were well-provisioned with supplies, fuel, water, and a dinghy for shore access, we cast off the lines around 11AM and motored out of the harbor, leaving the familiar boston sailing center behind.
Southward we headed, turning east then southeast at Nixes Mate. We continued southeast through The Narrows, a less narrow passage than the alternative Nubble Channel, passing the iconic Boston Lighthouse. The wind picked up, initially playful but soon intensifying into strong gusts. To maintain control and prevent uncomfortable heeling, we reefed the sails and continued onward to Massachusetts Bay.
We were making great progress with steady winds pushing us along at a brisk 7-8 knots. We decided to have lunch on the way to keep the momentum going, cruising past Plymouth Bay around 5 PM and into the whale-rich waters of Cape Cod Bay. Back in Boston, it was a scorching 90 degrees, but out here, the wind had a chilly bite that made me want to put my jacket on. The wind temperature was confusing, with warmth in the air one moment and an icy chill the next, hinting at the mixed conditions we were in for this journey.
Our attention was soon stolen by a magnificent sight: out there in the solitude of Cape Cod Bay, where we appeared to be the only boat around that windy day, we spotted it–first, a spout broke the surface, then another. While we were watching, a massive whale was breaching right in front of us. It was an unbelievable, magical, jaw-dropping moment. We were so caught up in the magic that we totally forgot to grab our phones or cameras, but the feeling of awe we shared among friends will remain.
With the wind coming from the south, we had to tack a few times — our goal was to spend the night in Sandwich and cross the canal close to slack tide around 7:30 AM the next morning. The sun dipped below the horizon around 8:16 PM, forcing us into some night sailing. As we approached Sandwich Marina around 9:30 PM, the dark breakwater marking the entrance to the Marina loomed ahead without its usual reflective markers. To make matters more challenging, a large, well-lit fishing boat was gaining on us. We tried to let it pass, but it turned out we were both headed for the same marina. Maneuvering into our slip was a test of skill with the wind, current, and poor lighting working against us. After a few attempts, we finally secured the boat safely with Neil’s excellent steering.
We made use of the shore facilities and celebrated our successful arrival with a first dinner on board and plenty of cheering. Not bad for a first day on the water! We covered 52 nautical miles with a top speed of 7.2 knots.
Moonrise over the entrance to the Cape Cod Canal
Day 1 meditation: Long passages on a single tack are great for meditation and this first day was no exception; as I settled in the cockpit, hearing the waves and the gurgling of the water, I allowed my mind to wander. And, on that day, my mind naturally wandered to thoughts about my body changing as I get older. So, I allowed myself to explore those thoughts. Yes, I understand in theory that perimenopause brings significant changes, from bone degradation to a slower metabolism, but experiencing it firsthand is a different reality. I've been trying to frame perimenopause as a way to understand and accept these changes, moving away from the insecurities I felt growing up.
Back in 2022, I managed to fast every day until 5 PM and followed a highly restrictive diet, believing I could do it forever. I stopped fasting because I was constantly feeling unhappy: cold, weak, angry, and in pain. That, along with life events like changing jobs several times and the stress of accepting roles that stretched my abilities, took my focus away, and the weight returned.
The resentment of this yo-yo experience has a way of taking over my thoughts and muddying my experiences. As I lay in the cockpit, trying to reject the ever-present myth that I just need more exercise (a myth that is becoming increasingly obvious with the success of GLP-1 agonists), a thought emerged - the possibility of accepting the default state without trying to change it.
Let me elaborate—for my ancestors, the default state was the only state they knew. They accepted it because they had no choice; distractions from the default state were not readily available, and if they were hungry, they had to work for it! The default state is what I often forget to accept when I cannot change the conditions around me—like being in this cockpit, accepting the motion of the boat, and the pull and tug of the waves. The default state is often boredom and that is OK.
Made aware of the urgency to be present in the default state, I turn my attention back to what I know is real, to what my body is feeling. And that day was chilly and the waves had white caps on them. And then, a little hint of hunger, the baseline, the default state is broken, and I realize: it's not just external pressures that break this, it's also the internal ones. And I realize that the default state will change whether or not I behave in any particular way. We are in a perpetual state of change, the default state is change.
Perhaps true gratitude lay not in finding a fixed default, but in embracing the ever-changing nature of existence. And when we learn to become comfortable with these state changes, with accepting and sitting in discomfort without trying to change it, then we occasionally get rewarded - like noticing that whale breaching the surface - had I not sat in this slight discomfort of being tossed by the waves, feeling cold and warm, I probably would never have experienced it!
Day 2: A Battle with the Elements
We woke up early on day 2, eager to conquer the Cape Cod Canal. But the current proved to be quite the opponent the closer we got to the end of the canal! We made good progress at about 5 knots until we neared Buzzards Bay. Then, the current and strong wind slowed us down to a painful 1-2 knots, even with the engine in full throttle. To fight against the current and wind, Andrew steered us close to shore where the push was not as powerful. Fishermen on shore had their lines out, but as we approached, they frantically reeled them in to save their precious lures from becoming tangled messes. Determined not to be swept back, we pressed on.
The powerful current pushing us back also produced dangerous looking ripples in the water.
The morning on day 3 looked promising for a sail day, so we wasted no time getting underway. We’d lost a day, but reaching Nantucket on this adventure was still on the agenda. We needed to cross Buzzards Bay and the infamous Woods Hole passage during slack tide around 3.30PM, according to Andrew’s trusted Eldridge tide book – his go-to guide for sailing around Massachusetts. Sergey had also made progress in coming up with a jury-rigged solution to give us our second reef back.
Andrew not messing around
Sergey checking the chart
Buzzards Bay spread out before us, a total transformation from the previous day. The conditions were much better, and the boat was itching to go. We ripped through the water at an average speed of 6 knots, loving every minute of it. Sergey’s solution to the second reef had worked! We arrived in the vicinity of Woods Hole around 12.30PM, and Hadley Harbor offered a brief layover, where some members of the crew indulged in a refreshing swim before lunch to cool bodies and spirits.
Speed and Happy Crew
Hadley Harbor
Quick side note: On the way to Hadley Harbor, we had a major “head” issue. We'd dealt with the usual portable toilet smell before, but this was next level. As the boat tilted, the head filled up with, well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. The weird thing was, there was no drain! Our bilge pump was working fine, but the water wasn't going anywhere. So, Sergey and Neil got to work cleaning things up and using the shower pump to dump the mess overboard.
After doing what we could for the head and at the scheduled time, we navigated the narrow channel through Woods Hole, emerging into Nantucket Sound smoothly and without incident. The south-west wind filled our sails, propelling us forward at a steady speed, even reaching a max speed of 8.3 knots at one point–a stark difference from the day before. In the excitement, we almost forgot about the head disaster if the smell hadn’t gotten even worse, especially when the boat leaned on a port tack. Gross! But hey, Martha’s Vineyard and Vineyard Heaven’s West Chop were coming into view, so we tried to focus on that. With plenty of daylight left, we decided to keep going past Vineyard Haven and into Edgartown. After a few tacks, we dropped anchor for the night by Chappaquiddick Island.
It's a race!
Eight knots!
While Andrew and I made dinner, Sergey and Neil decided to launch Neil's shiny new DJI drone straight from the boat. Talk about risky business! It's hilarious looking back at the drone footage and seeing Sergey's sleeping bag waving like a flag in the wind.
Epic Drone Footage (sound on!) "And she flew her sleeping bag shaped flag, as if to say, here we stand, here we sleep!
Sergey wasn’t about to let the head situation slide and I’m very grateful that he didn’t because the “room” where I was sleeping was adjacent to the head. After another round of cleaning, he decided to figure out what was causing the leak. He removed the panels covering the tank and bam – there it was! A leaky cover on the starboard side–basically, every time the boat tilted, it leaked. We didn't have any duct tape (classic boat crew move), so Sergey used some electrical tape to hold the cover down. It was a temporary fix at best. We knew we couldn't go anywhere without pumping out the tank first, but the pumpout boat had already stopped for the day. It was time to relax and … hopefully forget about the boat’s less pleasant aspects.
Hello Gorgeous
Happy Crew
Day 3 meditation: We made rapid progress that day, with plenty of wind and sails raised to take full advantage of it. But what is wind? What is this force that we can harness to move us to our desired destination? Wind is a process that happens when conditions are unbalanced—it is air moving from a high-pressure area to a low-pressure area—the earth's climate trying to balance itself. As I sat on deck that evening, watching the sun dip below the horizon, a thought occurred to me: if we stop and wait, doing nothing to harness these forces, we drift, both in sailing and in life. And how do we avoid drifting? By harnessing these natural processes caused by unbalanced conditions. All we have to do is find them or learn to forecast them.
We cannot control the wind, just as we cannot control all the forces in life that move us—but we can learn to look for imbalances and harness the energy that results from the universe trying to balance itself.
Day 4: A Day of Delays and Decisions
Day 4 kicked off with the less-than-thrilling task of pumping out the boat. It's a necessary evil, but definitely not the most exciting way to start a morning. As soon as the harbormaster's office opened, Neil gave them a call to request a pumpout. We were told that the boat servicing this kind of thing wasn't running yet, but they'd be with us "shortly." Coffee and breakfast filled the time, but their "shortly" must have been operating on island time because we didn't see them until around 10:30 AM.
Pump Out
Sergey sporting a t-shirt that was very appropriate for the moment
We felt much better after the pumpout was complete and started getting ready to set sail. The forecast was calling for increasing fog, so we knew we had to get moving if we wanted to sail that day. As we lifted the anchor and ventured out from the sheltered anchorage by Chappaquiddick, we were greeted by a thick wall of fog on the horizon. A downpour quickly followed. Visibility was almost zero. Disappointed, we decided to head back, as the conditions were simply too dangerous for a pleasant sail.
Maybe we should go back :-)
We turned around and tried to drop the anchor again, but the place we picked was too close to other boats so we raised anchor to find another spot. As we did, Neil suggested we headed for the inner harbor before trying to anchor again in order to fill our water tank and give our boat another good scrub. As I mentioned in a previous post, finding the fresh water dock here is quite the adventure, but this time we knew what to look for! While deciding on our next move, and faced with relentless rain and a storm in the forecast, we spotted free mooring balls and enlisted Neil's help to secure one and hunker down while riding out the storm.
The water dock is the one with the picnic table
Since we were in town for a few hours, we wanted to stock up on supplies and also get rid of trash. The pouring rain continued, we were all wet or humid and didn't really feel like walking around drenched. We had some tea, ate some lunch and waited for an opening in the rain. Around 3.30 PM, after another massive downpour, we called the launch to pick us up. The launch driver was having a miserable day. We at least had a bimini that we could hide under while we waited and thus could avoid the hot and stuffy environment of the cabin. But the launch driver had no such thing.
We stocked up on ice, cheese, bread, wine, and beer. A trip to the local fishmonger yielded the catch of the day. At this point, after the shopping was done, I think we all sort of silently agreed that we weren't going sailing again that day. The allure of sailing out again after provisioning was tempting, but the prevailing weather conditions and our collective exhaustion outweighed our desire for adventure. So, we opted to stay put, sent Sergey and Neil with our provisions back to the boat while Andrew and I visited the Edgartown lighthouse, where I had a chance to talk to Andrew, who had recently visited Israel, about the current conflict in Gaza and to learn about post-second-world-war history that I never learned in school. The night ended with an indulging but well-deserved seafood dinner.
Edgartown lighthouse
Day 5: Summer Day!
What a transformation a day can make! On Day 5, Sunday, the weather gods smiled upon us. A brisk wind filled our sails as we departed early, the morning fog gradually lifting to reveal a stunning seascape and the start of the most pleasant part of the trip, weather-wise. Nantucket Sound welcomed us with open arms, the waves dancing a rhythmic dance beneath our hull.
Sunshine at last! And an opportunity to dry our very wet clothes
We had decided the night before to give up … again … on our attempt to make it to Nantucket. We would be too rushed, having lost our "buffer" days, and it was time to head back to Boston to return the boat to the Boston Sailing Center. So, we ended up retracing our steps. Our window to cross Woods Hole started around 11:30, and we made it just in time. A quick stop for a swim and a leisurely lunch at Hadley Harbor filled us with a sense of summer we hadn't experienced yet – sunny, warm, and... packed with motorboats! The harbor was bustling, a vibrant contrast to the relative solitude we'd enjoyed a couple of days before.
Infestation of Motor boats in Hadley Harbor
Refreshed and ready, we continued our journey across Buzzards Bay. The wind was our constant companion in this crossing, propelling us forward, helping us make progress toward our destination. The sun had come out as well, and we had a fabulous and pleasant day of sailing. The delicious sounds of the gurgling water in our wake filled me with joy. There was enough wind to propel us but not so much to overpower us. As the sun began its descent, we found refuge in the New Bedford Harbor, with its unique Portuguese influence, where I spied a statue of Infante Dom Henrique, the Navigator - a Portuguese prince better known for initiating the Age of Discovery that funded Portuguese ships to set out in pursuit of adventure across the seas. Despite the presence of fishermen's boats all around us, the night was surprisingly peaceful. The Portuguese fishermen did not awaken us at 4 AM like the ones at the entrance of the Cape Cod Canal.
Infante Dom Henrique, the Navigator
The sunrise was a breathtaking spectacle, casting a golden glow across the water. The gentle lapping of waves against the hull was a soothing melody, a reminder of the simple pleasures in life. In these moments, surrounded by friends and the ocean, I feel a sense of flow, a perfect alignment with the rhythm of the world.
Day 6: Plymouth bound
The morning of day 6 dawned bright and early, and with no time for lingering, we cast off - armed with an estimate of a seven-hour journey, we braced ourselves for a long day ahead. However, the sailing gods were still in our favor. Strong winds propelled us forward, and we made surprisingly swift progress. The promise of reaching Plymouth by nightfall began to feel realistic. We needed to position ourselves that night to achieve an arrival at Boston the following day in time to refuel before the fuel dock closed for the day and return the boat by 5PM.
While scanning the horizon for whales, I was met with disappointment–no whales on Buzzards Bay. But my spirits remained high as we approached the Cape Cod Canal. This time, the experience was vastly different. With little to no current, we leisurely cruised through, taking in the scenery.
Entrance to the Cape Cod canal on the Buzzards Bay side
Once through the canal, the conditions changed dramatically–it got significantly windier and waves rocked our boat. Anchoring at Scusset Beach for lunch was a chilly affair. The wind whipped around us, and the water temperature was far from inviting. We reefed the sails and the day was undeniably glorious, despite minor setbacks. The sun shone, the wind filled our sails, and the company was perfect.
By 4 PM, we entered Plymouth Bay. The expansive harbor, with its beautiful dunes and houses, was a sight to behold. Unfortunately, the peace was disturbed by the constant roar of speedboats. After securing a mooring, we took a much-needed launch to shore. Showers, a leisurely walk to Plymouth Rock and the Mayflower, and a delicious Mediterranean / Italian dinner rounded off the day. Ice cream and beer were the perfect nightcap before collapsing into bed. The allure of the remaining rum would have to wait for another day. Exhaustion claimed me before I could even make a dent in the bottle.
The two mandatory things to see in Plymouth
Plymouth wasn't just about history; it was also our chance to launch Neil’s drone once more. We found a bench by the seawall, the perfect launchpad for this aerial adventure. In mere moments, Neil's expert piloting had the drone soaring above Plymouth Harbor. And there she was, our beloved water-home, Gratitude, looking absolutely tiny and charming.
Neil ran a few circles around her, I’m pretty sure we caused a minor seagull panic in the process. But all good things must come to an end, and with the battery blinking red, Neil guided the drone back to where we were sitting. Phew, close call!
There it goes. Love the joy on Neil's face at the end :D
Sexy floaty thing!
Day 7: A Final Sail Home
We were up at dawn on day 7, eager to make the most of our final day on the water and a little rushed since we had a long journey ahead. As we exited Plymouth Harbor we were welcomed with good winds, setting the tone for a thrilling journey home. At the helm, I found myself fully immersed in the moment, my mind clearing of distractions. The boat became an extension of myself, responding intuitively to the wind and waves.
At the helm, I found myself fully immersed in the moment
It didn’t feel long at all before Minot Light became visible. We were navigating very familiar territory now. The wind lost some strength as we approached Boston which suited us fine since it was about lunch time and we had plans to have lunch under way. A few beers added to the relaxed lunch. As we approached Boston, the city skyline emerged, a welcome sight. The wind began to subside as we neared the harbor, requiring us to tack our way into President Roads.
Returning home
Our adventure drew to a close at the fuel dock, where we dropped off Sergey before refueling the boat. A minor incident with another vessel added a touch of unexpected drama to our final moments.
Reflecting on the journey, my thoughts turned to the delicate balance of forces that govern both sailing and life. The interplay of jib and main, the dance between high and low pressure systems, mirror the dynamics of daily life. It's about finding the right balance, understanding the flow, and positioning oneself to capitalize on opportunities.
Ultimately, like the wind, life is lived when one takes advantage of the forces in nature. We can't control them, but we can position ourselves to harness their power. Successful entrepreneurs and intrapreneurs, like skilled sailors, understand the direction of the wind and adjust their sails accordingly.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, cozy in my own bed, I could still feel the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull.
