Eventually you get used to the idea that there is no one else there.  No safety line.  No sounding board for when you begin to doubt a particular course of action.  The joy of a large fish fighting on the line soon leads to the realization that one man can’t eat the whole fish alone and the shame sets in of letting the creature go to waste.  When the blue waters of the open ocean turn black at night there is only the monologue in your own mind to help rationalize your fears.

In the beginning of my journey these thoughts and fears were in the forefront of my mind.  A deep melancholy would set in each evening and overshadow the beauty of the sun setting over my own private expanse of ocean unhindered by land or the makings of other men.  Time has a way of dampening these thoughts and with seven months of cruising now under my belt I give them little more thought than most drivers give the monster sports utility vehicle racing down the highways next to them at 80 miles per hour.  

The question is asked so often I can no longer count how many times or from how many people I’ve heard it, “doesn’t it get lonely out there”?  There is nothing more inherently lonely in singlehanding a small boat around the sea than there is in coming home at night from a day’s work in the office.  There are fewer distractions here which does makes your thoughts more tangible.  The commonality of the question belies the loneliness within the human spirit, that feeling that I think we are all so prone to feeling.  The real fear is not that sailing alone is more lonely, but that you are forced to come face to face with that loneliness and in turn, face to face with yourself.

I believe that Thoreau was right when he said that, “most men lead lives of quiet desperation”.  I believe it because I myself was doing exactly that before I sailed.  Being nothing particularly special myself, I assume others share and feel the same.  For me sailing alone has become my opportunity to recognize that desperation for what it was, come to terms with and drop the mistakes of my past, and identify those things which are truly important to me in this life.  What greater opportunity is there?

I am torn with what I should do with this blog.  I haven’t yet found a balance, or even understand what is of more interest to those who are following this sojourn.  For those contemplating a cruise of their own would you rather hear of the four day slog to weather from Roatan and the exhaustion that set in when the engine would shut down every 30 minutes preventing sleep and forcing me to jury rig a fuel line, or the more personal side of the people I’ve met and the things I’ve learned about myself and others along this strange path?

There is a story that I’d like to tell, but first I have to write it and also give those people who make up the story a chance to read it first.   I may have changed my mind about putting into a marina here in Bocas del Toro.  I need fuel, water, and another couple of days to set things right, but I may be heading out sooner rather than later. 

Lee Winters
Phone: (281) 336-0855

www.SailingForSOS.com
Email: Lee.Winters@SailingForSOS.com