Arriving on the 'Other Side'

What's it like to see land after nothing but open ocean for 18 days? All I can say is anticlimactic. The day of our expected arrival, we had been scouring the horizon for the outline of St Lucia for over 6 hours before it appeared. The adrenaline of the first hour has entirely worn off by the sixth and we were far too preoccupied dodging squalls to pay much attention until we were very close.

The emotions of arriving at your destination after such a long travel time are strange. I distinctly remember being overwhelmed by sadness that we were arriving, ready to turn around and head back out to sea. I don't think anything can ever prepare you for land; once you're there you just get on with it as if you never left. The most difficult is the couple hours before when thinking (too deeply) about what this journey has meant, and how you will possibly adapt to life again. As the last hours drew near, we discussed what we were most looking forward to. A resounding 'RUM PUNCH' came from Laura and I. We'd heard only good things about the celebrations in St Lucia, keen now to join in. However, the luxury of being able to move, stand still, sit straight, sleep without lee cloth pinning you in, and think without having to constantly brace yourself were other things we were eager to get back on solid ground. Also, we swore that the ability to walk more than 55 feet in one direction would never be taken for granted again!

We also spoke about the highlights of the trip, and here's what I wrote at the time:

First and 100% foremost (but also probably will be the easiest to forget), the highlight for me has been the sailing itself. The best moments of the day were sail changes, discussing the change (which always took far longer than the event itself), and then seeing how the boat responded. Which sail configuration would most reduce this incessant, annoying, super jarring, doing my head in rolling motion? Is gusting 20 knots too much for the A4 sail? If we shook a reef out the main, would it give us more speed, or only blank the genoa? Would bringing the pole forward improve the shape of the foresail, or just cause it to back? We discussed it all at length and often provided our challenging puzzle for the day.

However, the part of sailing that makes the experience either fun and a joy, or hellish, is the people. On Casamara, it was certainly a joy and stuck for words the only way I can think to express just how good the company was, is this poem Laura and I wrote to thank J and S at halfway:

On the 8th of November

We embarked upon a great adventure

Las Palmas sped by

Conversations were flowing about oysters, being a family and polygamy

Solar panel fitting, all fruit and veg doused in milton,

We welcomed Belgian celebs and 100+ year old Ocean cruisers

With a last hurrah at the testing centre and a crazy night at the Tao

It’s safe to say, we were ready to say ciao

The 21st morning brought with it some trumpet horning

Three start lines were traversed, yet in hatch closing we were not well-versed

All our belongings out on deck

Laptop broken, oh feck!

9 days later, we’ve reached halfway

Looking back we have sung and played the nights away

The craic has been stellar and unlike others were not just talking about the weather

Unfortunately we’ve lost some lures, and a bucket, SORRY

But with John’s masterful time telling, the days will fly by and we’ll soon have a fish to fry

We’d like to raise a glass to the two of you

You’ve seen us through, or halfway through

A great adventure so thank you

This ones for you!

Once docked and stepped onto the pontoons, there is no turning back. Primarily because the unstable 'sea legs' and the copious volumes of rum punch drunk within an hour of arrival make it impossible to manoeuvre a sailboat, or oneself.