kateandjohnsail.boats

ALL IS WELL. That is what I have relayed to several friends and family members particularly in the last week, as we have been non-communicative during our preparations for sailing. My deepest apologies to those of you who were wondering about our welfare. Preparing for sailing is never a streamlined affair, but when you add arriving in a 50 knot gale, retrieving the vessel from on the hard, wrapping up major boat work, pursuing a bit of medical tourism, and being guests of an authoritarian country that shares a border with Iran… well, you see it was a bit complicated. In the past weeks we have had much excitement while still on the dock, but at last we have sprung free and have left Turkey and entered Greece. I will relate some of our Turkish adventures in future posts, as well as describing some of the ways we have spruced up Quintessa.

But first, what were Kate and John doing in December, January, and early February?

Well, it started in the dark, with the darkest, wettest, Oregon December either of us can remember, and it put our jet lag on steroids. Brightening the picture were visits and quality time with our lively, inquisitive, and growing grandchildren. One of them lost 2 teeth in one weekend under our care. Another flipped his first pancake, beaming with pride as only a 9-year-old can. We snuggled with grandchildren, reading to them and listening to them read. We took them to the playground, and talked about names for a new puppy that is coming in the spring, if spring ever comes. We entered into the delightful mystery of a Narnia play performed by a troupe of budding actors, some of them very young. The dark of December lifted as we celebrated the light of Christmas with family near and far, including Kate’s 96-year-young mother Sally. The picture of Sally holding her 6-month-old great-granddaughter is incredibly dear.

In a year with little mountain snow, we found one good day to go cross-country skiing on Mt. Hood. The next week we went to the coast where we walked happily barefoot on the sand in the January sun. We raced sailboats in the rain on the Columbia with our crew of sailing friends, some of whom have now sailed with us on Quintessa. We drove to California to get some serious baby time with that youngest grandchild. Then we continued south on the newly-reopened Highway 1 through Big Sur on a day that brought to mind every Beach Boys song ever. In San Diego we completed a Safety at Sea course, and won a weather course as a door prize. After a brief return to Portland we headed for the Seattle Boat Show, where we purchased some of the latest and greatest boat safety gear we had learned about in the course. We packed the loot in our boat suitcases and then did something we should have done two years earlier: documented emergency procedures and our financial affairs for our kids in case we forget to come back to them.

All of these adventures come in the context of the best thing of all: talking, walking, dining, playing, worshiping and generally doing life with the people we are blessed to have in our lives. We need to thank Beverly and Gary, Steve and Kathy, Dave and Leslie, and Mike and Anne for providing us with places to lay our heads.

One distinctive of our “land time” is that we tend to connect more with media of all types and get a more detailed view of news domestic and foreign. It’s a tight world we live in. Everywhere we have traveled we have met wonderful people and felt privileged to visit the land they call home. We know we are guests and we make great effort to understand and respect the rules, which often seem unusual to us. But in the end, we are subject to the dictates of the jurisdiction where we are, and that began to feel a bit strange this past week when war came to this part of the world. When you visit a country in a boat, you are subject to particular regulations and procedures entering and exiting that country, and you don’t make the rules. Thank you to those of you who figured out our situation and prayed for us; it is indeed true that the One who is above the nations is both sovereign and good. We were quite wary of using any form of communication to relay our qualms as we rushed to leave, hence our quick words: ALL IS WELL. It was. And it is.