Letting go

When you are married to a sailor, you start to accumulate innumerable boat parts, many of which you don’t know the name of, nor even the use. We have built shacks and sheds to hold these precious items if they are not yet on the boat. We have a particularly interesting collection of anchors. I have no idea why so many- some for dinghies and larger boats, some perhaps intended for Sputnik for use during a big blow in a small anchorage. Not sure, but here one sits as a front porch ornament:

another at the side of the house in the weeds:

and still another leaned up against the wood pile.

There are more. Believe me. And that can be a good thing, but right now they are some of the things that are weighing us down, anchoring us to this place.

So…. it’s less than a couple of weeks before we have to be out of our house and full time living on Sputnik. It’s because we rented our home for July 1st and so whether we are ready or not, that’s the deadline. We are also required to leave the dock as our moorage runs out then too. No dillydallying.

Which we absolutely are not btw. Our closest know this because they see us slowly falling apart when someone asks us when we are leaving and what our plans are. We can respond blithely, oh, just wandering down the coast, go to Mexico, maybe to the South Pacific... like it's nothing and it is easy to get there. There is waaaay too much to do that it is hard to even see that horizon or if it’s possible. At this moment we are writing new lists about what else needs fixing, the necessary errands to town for this little screw and that washer, the spare alternator, the design flaws of some of the things we have built for the boat to protect us from the weather, Lee cloths, backstay blocks, staysail sheets, first aid kit set up, flares, etc etc. Minutia.

We are so grateful to our friends who took pity on our panic and came together on a Sunday to plough through a significant number of house tasks. There was no way we could bang them out on our own in this pinched timeline. They helped trim windows and doors, stack wood, move garbage, install outlets, tear down our dilapidated kayak shack. It was an uplifting day. Yay friends!

And then on Monday we were back to ourselves, not always handling the stress well. We are awake at 5 to learn about weather forecasting perhaps, watch other sailors brave the seas on YouTube, divert ourselves a bit with some a wordle or suduko or the news of the latest atrocities of the government of our neighbouring country, then it’s back to it, packing, building, buying things, painting, fixing and setting up, barely holding back despair and fear.

How in the world do people do this? We have so many role models who seemed to manage it all so easily: Beth and Evans, Lin and Larry, the Smeetons, Alvah Simon, etc etc. We are definitely not them. This is one of the more difficult things we have ever tried to accomplish: just to let go the lines, or weigh anchor and set out.

We have been letting go of some things other than the lines - like a lot more money than we had budgeted. By a long shot. Yes we need this part, those four new batteries, that welding job, that spare, this rigging block. On and on it goes - all justified because we are planning to head out there, offshore where things break or will be thoroughly tested. Hopefully the bleeding stops soon.

It’s the unintentional letting go that is harder to take. Like leaving my wallet on the roof of the car at the fueling station and then driving off. The wallet is somewhere on the highway between Horseshoe Bay exit 7 and Seabird Island. So the money inside is gone, of course. And the extra task of having to replace all of the identification and bank cards when things are already chaotic.

I also almost willingly gave up the down payment plus shipping for a used watermaker being sold on one of the forums I frequent on Facebook. Fortunately the bank suspected the scam before I did and didn’t allow the e-transfer to a supposed Ray Butin in Quebec go through. I thought I was pretty thorough in my vetting; but obviously someone in a call centre saw me for a sucker and just about had me for a couple grand.

I have been drawn to the idea of Swedish death cleaning, which I take to mean going through all of your possessions and culling to what is absolutely necessary. Trips to the dump, selling things on the buy and sell, setting up a free pile and perhaps storing away the things we are attached to or can’t make up our minds about. This is also the longest we have ever lived in a place and it is incredible how many things we have accumulated- tools, and especially anchors. They have to go somewhere and not everything will fit on the boat.

I also acknowledge that I’m anticipating the hardship of letting go of this home for a while, these beautiful fir and cedar forests, the food garden, this Salish sea, this community, our family and friends.

It is most difficult to let go of the idea that I had of myself. That person who is accomplished, can lead, gives back through the roles I have been privileged to be in. Now I’m in a pretty focused and inward facing job. My self worth is not now tied to what I did for a career. I’m humbled and being tested in different ways.

A final word about anchors and letting go. We have at the front step of our house a special large stone from Kwem Kwem up Atkasam (Howe Sound). One that my dear friend/mentor Shane picked out for me, one that could have been a Quasanatun - a traditional anchor the Salish peoples might have used for tying a line of a canoe to keep it near shore. He shared that another meaning of the word is that of a teacher and holder of wisdom. And I have that right here at my door. I have a feeling I will earn that wisdom through this process of letting go. And trust that Jud and I will get through this together,