They Call Me Captain [#14]

Kidding. They do not.

Not my kids, not John, and definitely not the actual captain we hired to safely deliver us from Edgewater to Charleston last week.

But glimpses of my would-be captainhood — of everyone’s for that matter — ruled our four night passage (and 3:00 a.m. watches).

We almost didn’t take the boys with us.

We almost sent them down to Charleston ahead of us. Would four days at sea without so much as a step on land be too much for them too soon? Would it slaughter the Boat Dream before we even raised the sails? Would they hate it? Hate us?

Mutiny seemed likely. And devastating.

But then we reminded ourselves what this journey is supposed to be all about: exploring, experiencing, educating.

Not just when it is convenient or isn’t scary. Not just when the details are in perfect order or when everyone thinks it sounds like fun. But literally always.

Gut check moment #4,623.

Once we stopped to really think about it, the choice was obvious. Of course the boys would come. Of course they should come.

It would be hard. They might in fact hate it. They would undoubtedly hate us. But that had to be OK.

As a family, we’re in uncharted waters. We didn’t spend years getting the boys used to living on a sailboat. We didn’t ease into the Boat Dream with glorious charter vacations in the Bahamas or live-aboard sailing school in the Med.

We just dove in.

We did so knowing there’d be Oh #$*@! moments; appreciating the fact that there wouldn’t be an option to turn back. Not really, anyway.

But diving in was just the beginning. Now that we’re bobbing about on the surface, we have to actually stay afloat — to keep our heads above water long enough to breathe and maybe drift along with the current a bit, but not so long that we forget how to freedive beneath the waterline once in a while.

Explore. Experience. Educate.

Apparently, it takes some serious practice in order to practice what you preach. But we’re committed to the lesson plan and we’re getting there.

Here’s a short list of the sailboat magic Wyatt and Hudson would’ve missed out on, had John and I not stopped for that pre-passage gut check:

• Tracking pods of dolphins
• Swimming 30 miles offshore in the North Atlantic
• Learning to read a chart plotter
• Correcting the autopilot
• Keeping middle-of-the-night watches at the helm
• Seeing schools of flying fish fly
• Photographing fiery sunsets
• Observing the Milky Way before moonrise
• Taking outdoor showers on the transom
• Sailing — actually sailing — in a wide open ocean

And now, their first passage is already in the books. They’re practically salty old sailors. They didn’t barf. They didn’t sink. They didn’t kill each other (or their parents). They made it. We all did. Even Bear survived, much to her own shock and awe.

We untied our dock lines in Edgewater just before midnight on June 24th and arrived in Charleston on the afternoon of June 28th. We were greeted by shiny mega-yachts, good food, and a charming old city.

And, best of all, the promise of a two-day visit from a handful of our favorite people.

Charleston, we love you already.

Nobody called me Captain on this trip, and I’d bet two toes nobody will on the next — which is a real bummer because I have a feeling it’s gonna be a tight race to the title.