We are home!

We entered Boston Harbor in the early afternoon of May 31, after traveling 1610 nautical miles from the British Virgin Islands.  We were ensconced in fog since we left the whales, and motored the final 24 hours in relatively calm seas.  The temperature hovered in the forties overnight, and we wore triple layers on our watches.  We did not escape the fog until we passed Deer Island, and found Boston to be basking in Summer weather.  Harbor seals and birds greeted our arrival, with one young wren landing on our boat and hopping into the cabin for a half hour rest.  It seemed lost as it later hovered over the water trying to decide whether to settle.  We were concerned that we were taking it from the plush environs of Cohasset to the grit of East Boston.  Do birds have accents?

In order to clear customs, we were instructed by officials in Portland, Maine to meet an officer from the Department of Homeland Security at Boston Yacht Haven.  Boston Yacht Haven is the monstrosity built by Les Marino at the end of Commercial Wharf.  After Marino’s death, it was sold to a new owner. The marina contracts with the government to permit government mandated docking and boarding to take place on its docks.  The Nicholas Cage look-alike officer was quite friendly, and asked to see our passports. He did not examine our water jugs to make certain that they contained only water, nor did he come on board to look for terrorists.  In fact, when I tried to hand him the contraband fruit and vegetables, he instructed us to eat them on board.  After we passed the rigorous examination, he said I needed to check into the office at the marina.  I asked why, since we were not staying there.  He just shrugged and said that the management probably wants us to fill out paperwork.  When I got there, the marina manager demanded a $75 docking fee for the 5 minutes of government required business.  Maybe Dick Cheney purchased the marina.  I refused to pay and we cast off.  As I write this late at night on Tuesday, I have not yet been arrested, but I suspect that my phones will soon be tapped.

We went over to Boston Harbor Shipyard and Marina operating on diesel fumes.  Slip E8 will be the home of Welcome III until the boat is pulled for the winter.  We sat on the dock, stunned at what we had done.  Thank you Michael – we did this because of your willingness to fight sea sickness and fog to make our way home.

For me, this marks both the end and the beginning.  I have always wanted to sail offshore, occasionally harboring insane thoughts about sailing full time for a few years.  This trip to and from the Virgin Islands was the reachable part of that dream.  I started planning this many years ago as I read about and admired sturdy offshore sailboats.  I had partners in these dreams with my father and brother, who were not only interested in sailboats, but encouraged me as I reached.  In April of 2004, I located the boat that met my criteria.  I spent the next year and one half determining what sort of voyage was possible, and then equipping the boat and planning with those who agreed to be part of the offshore sailing. Of equal importance were those whose onshore support allowed me to take the time away from my life and obligations.  In particular, this would not have been possible without the loving encouragement of Kate, who was hugely relieved that she did not have to be part of it.  She had to do double duty at home, including walking the dogs when it was my turn.  My law partner Paul tended to both his and my clients in my absence.  My business partner Johanna continued to attempt to extract milk from the dry cow.  

I have been able to achieve an important personal goal.  The boat trip was not around the world, but it met my desire to be a successful offshore sailor.  I learned a tremendous amount about sailing, offshore passage making, and myself.  I have achieved something personally meaningful, and can now begin planning new challenges.  I now know that if I reach, and am flexible, good things happen.