Cruising the Southern Shore of Lake Ontario, the setup.

It has been a while since we last updated the good old blog and a lot has changed. First we got the big boat, a Southern Cross 35. Then I learned to sail the big boat. I have taken numerous crew out since then, but it has all been leading up to cruising on our own.

Our departure was scheduled for August 28th, 2023. As I'm sure is the case for new cruisers, I spent the prior three days over-provisioning for what was a planned 6 day cruise. Considerable work was all done to the boat to ensure my first mate had her necessary creature comforts. The V-birth was wired so that a heated blanket could be used and the 2000 EV inverter was wired in so that the instapot could be used for meals. Other additional equipment purchased for this journey was a Sea Eagle Razorlite Kayak that we settled on as our tender after the original Achilles inflatable dinghy failed to consistently hold air.

Even though we were traveling no more than 60 miles from our home port, the idea of embarking still gave me butterflies. For most Americans, the uniformity of western transportation provides a sense of comfort from sea to shining sea. Any traveler today can use a smartphone to effortless find an identical, Mobile gas station, Best Western Motel, or McDonald's restaurant. Any airport will have their arrivals and departures, starbucks and newsstands, security and baggage claim. Regardless of the weather a safe journey by land, if not by air, is almost always possible immediately. None of this is true for travel by sailboat.

Sure, GPS has revolutionized maritime navigation even more profoundly then terrestrial transport. However, knowing your position does not tell you about the shifting sandbars, nor the currents that can make you feel like your trying to walk up a downward escalator. Because the maritime does not receive the same investment as terrestrial or air based navigation, your charts do not always have the most up-to-date aids to navigation. The growing development of the coast further complicates night navigation where land and sea based lights became indistinguishable.

Anchorages can be affected by increased water clarity. This can allow seagrass to touch the surface and making holding imposible. Marinas can be full, or there may not even by someone on staff to tell you if there is room. All of this before even considering the weather. The weather defines in which direction when we can travel, the comfort in doing so, and the safety of our rest places.

Even our vehicles are more haphazard. Typically cars and planes are built to very tight technical standards with uniformity around model designs. Things that do no work are quickly identified, recalls issued, and the design centers around a safe efficiency standard. Each old sailboat is modified by their owners over time. They diverge from the standard until they are each their own unique work of art.

All of this makes travel by sailboat wholly different from any other type of journey made in the modern world. To paraphrase a quote from Reading the Glass, 'No one in their right mind would choose a sailboat to get from point A to point B. If you travel by sailboat, the journey is as important as the destination.'

Although those who travel by sailboat clearly do it for the journey, for the sense of unknown, the unknown is still scary. Hence, the butterflies. In my career as a critical care cardiologist, I spend my days imagining every system in the human that might misbehave and subsequently result in catastrophic failures. Often in people that whom, by misfortune or abuse, have put their bodies into a perilous state. Here I was placing myself in such a state intentionally, and my mind rapidly raced between the various failure modes. Sure, none of these were likely, but it is likely to experience an unlikely event when considering a great many of them. Thus, we delayed our departure by one day, just to quiet my nerves.