It’s been a difficult week for me. I struggle between: I’m so lucky and I can’t believe it’s over.
I’ve been “a sailor” since I was born. At some point when I was a toddler my mother accidentally dropped me into Narraganset Bay as my parents tried to hand me over from one moving boat to another moving boat. I have no idea why they were doing this, but I ended up in the drink, and like a good Mom, my mother jumped in after me and saved the day (I was, of course, wearing a lifejacket).
Silly story, but it underscores the point that I’ve been sailing for my entire life. It’s part of who I am.
But now I’m not. I was, just last week, but not any more. It’s weird. It’s unsettling. I’m trying to adjust to the new normal. Yesterday was an especially difficult day as a delivery crew got aboard our Sabre 386 Esmeralde at our slip at New England Boatworks, and after a startlingly brief orientation, sailed her away to her new temporary home in Yarmouth, Maine. Bruce and I went to Fort Weatherill State Park, a few steps from our home, and watched her sail out of Narragansett Bay with someone else at her helm for the very first time. It was a painful moment.
We have enjoyed exceptional adventures on board Esmeralde. Ten (or so) cruises to Maine. Three Newport-Bermuda races, double-handed. Countless weeks and weekends poking around the New England coast. Good friends. Fun times. Squabbles. A lot of work. Good weather. A few storms. Great sailing. Deadly motoring. All great memories, all now filed under “Has Been”.
We signed a contract for the Sabre in the fall of 2004. That winter we enjoyed developing a great relationship with all the excellent folks at Sabre Yachts in Raymond, Maine as our boat took shape. We documented the construction process on our old website, which we re-visit periodically, just to re-live the fun. In the spring of 2005 we took delivery and went for our first sail on our new boat. With the
Sabre build quality and the Jim Taylor design pedigree, she was (is!) an outstanding boat.
Here is a old video from our first Newport Bermuda Race. Apologies for the poor quality.
This past spring, while I was delirious and still under the haze of anesthesia and narcotics from my Total Shoulder Replacement surgery, Bruce somehow convinced me that it was time for us to step over to the dark side and get a power boat. He had a plan. We’d have a great time. We were getting an American Tug. Before I knew it, the deal was done. Cheers!
I can’t complain. I will love the new boat, just as I loved the Sabre. And the Able before that. And my Bianca before that. I sometimes have trouble with the “moving on” thing, but I do move on and will eventually adopt the new normal as a good happy place.