March 2, 2022

In the past, whenever I thought about us one day finally ‘casting off the dock lines’, I have to admit I had imagined it being a joyous and exuberant event. I had romanticized it, Charles and I, our hands held aloft in victory, me spinning like Mary Tyler Moore as we boldly headed out from Ballena Bay Marina, our home for the last five years. As we rounded the familiar curve at the entrance and wove our way northward through the deeper channel of the surrounding shallows we would gaze out at our old ‘weekend anchorage’ located about a mile from our slip. We would do one last lap around ‘the neighbors’, the 60 ft ketch with kids that were always up for a good play date.

As we slipped under the Bay Bridge we would stand arm-in-arm, waving, thinking of the countless times we have crossed under her sturdy beams or anchored behind her protective islands, we would wave to the waterfront of San Francisco, our old anchorage at Rincon Point by the Ferry Building (how many times were we chased out of there?), we would do one last ‘spin’ for the sealions at Fisherman’s Wharf, waving at the tourists who get so excited when you wave back. Goodbye Ghiradelli Chocolate and Aquatic park where we finally got to anchor even though we are too big, goodbye Chrissy Field, or Alcatraz, or Angel Island depending on which way we would eventually choose to go. That would have been amazing,… perfect even.

The reality however, was quite different. There was considerably less fanfare, no spinning with arms outstretched, and very little waving. Instead,… *sigh*,… we headed to the boatyard. We should have known that things were about to go sideways. As we maneuvered down the channel the wind picked up, blowing our ‘Welcome’ mat overboard followed by Charles’ favorite hat. We should have immediately turned around and gone back to the safety of our slip.

For the past five years we had been working through and crossing off all of the biggest boat issues we needed to deal with in order to leave, and pulling our mast and checking/replacing our very old rigging was the last big thing. Back in February we had booked a two-week spot in June at KKMI Boatyard in Richmond, before retirement & leaving was even a brain niggle, and before other forces (each incredibly stressful in their own right) all started piling on. We had plenty of time to get the mast work done and get to Monterey Bay in time for summer vacation with the kids, or so we thought.

Our budget generally dictates that we do the bulk of the work ourselves. Pulling the mast was going to be a huge project but we were excited to get through the next two weeks and start our new life. Little did we know that the previously mentioned forces were starting to line up. The pandemic had resulted in severe supply chain interruptions and labour shortages which meant lengthy delays and steep increases in the cost of parts as well as shipping. Two weeks became two months and the previously dreamed about vacations in Monterey Bay with the kids, became vacations on a mast-less boat in the boatyard.

In addition, we have always known that if we wanted to take the kids sailing we would have a pretty brutal and lengthy court battle with their Mom when the time came for us to leave the bay area. As a result we had decided to begin the court process a year early so the issues would hopefully be resolved by the time we were ready to leave the following year. But, by pushing our leaving date up a year, much of the court proceedings now coincided with working on our mast. Poor Charles. The one blessing was that, due to the pandemic, court was now on Zoom, meaning he just had to be at the boat, wearing a nice shirt after a bit of a face-wash. Having to physically attend court would have been much, much worse.

As the court date loomed, the hits kept coming. Charles got word that his older brother had passed away suddenly at his home in Reno, Nevada. We were supposed to be attending his daughter’s (Charles’ nieces’) wedding that week, but would be attending a funeral instead, and then in early July my Aunt in Canada suffered a severe fall that we were told she was unlikely to survive. Thankfully she is a fighter and a remarkable inspiration for the power of not giving up. I was able to celebrate her birthday, in person, with my family, in September after the Canadian border opened.

As with any difficult time, there are always the bright spots. Although bummed about not getting their vacations in Monterey, the kids were troopers, enjoying a nice mix of paid labour and largely unsupervised leisure time. We took afternoons off when it got too hot and explored the local area, did some boogie boarding, shopped at a local market and bought ‘exotic & unusual’ fruits and vegetables to try. When my birthday came along I declared that I would not spend it in the boatyard! So we took the kids camping in Monterey for the weekend instead.

Other bright spots were the friends that came to help (thank you Roxie and especially Jamie!), as well as those that came to visit, show support and keep us energized, focused and excited. With everything that was going on, it was family and friends both virtually and in person that kept us moving forward, encouraging us and reminding us that what we are trying to do is amazing and the rewards, if we make it, will be astronomical. Thank you all, we love you so much!