We left Esperanza, on Isla de Vieques (one of Puerto Rico’s three inhabited islands), at a reasonable hour but the wind remained east and even north of east instead of veering southeasterly and, even worse, it never filled in the way the forecast had, well, forecasted. Ghosting on airs so light that a wave can surge the boat ahead of the whispering wind, we watched the sun dip and fall. The 30-mile trip would not be completed during daylight, but the wide-open bay that was our destination shouldn’t be too hard to navigate in the dark. It’s the thoughts that carry you away at a time like this. Thinking about what we’re really doing here. Thinking about why it’s been four months since I (Dena) quit my job in Red Hook (on St. Thomas in the USVI) and we’re just now approaching the Big Island of Puerto Rico. Thinking about what it means to have an electric motor and knowing we can’t just steam from fuel dock to fuel dock. The hook these thoughts are hanging on is slow. We’re not new to being slow. On Nomad, in 2017, we formed a loose association of sailors with folks heading down the ICW, absolutely laughing at the idea that we’d remain close to the Garcia 47 (sailor-besties Kris and Steve, amazing people) or even the Gemini, a 35′ tiny-cat narrow enough to fit in the slips meant for Grand Banks-type powerboats. When we switched from Nomad to Cetacea, losing 2 feet of deck length but gaining 2 feet of sparred length and 3 feet of beam, we also had to relearn to sail. It wasn’t just the different hull shapes – we went from a slender sloop to a beamy cutter. We learned and learned, and we are sailing this boat[…]
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