Sharing Is Caring

As Austin and I first started sailing, I got use to doing it just the two of us. I felt comfortable asking questions and making mistakes. I absolutely loved having company on the boat and getting to share our lives, but we would rarely take people out sailing. We had a few things we needed to fine tune before cruising. It seemed like every time we crossed one essential task off the list, we found another to add. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, we finally started to make a dent on our seemingly never ending list of projects. It took us longer than expected, but I was excited by our progress and thrilled we would have the opportunity to sail more often.

My stepfather and 11 year old sister were the first guests to sail SVZV. Unfortunately, my sister found the whole experience to be painfully slow and boring. She considers a day shes near the water but doesn’t get to swim a day wasted. As expected, the rest of us had an incredible time.

Anticipation had been building in the hours before we left. We had tied a small anchor to our dingy so we didn’t have to tow him behind the boat, and it was our first time using the new system. After testing the new anchor set up, securing the boat, and getting everything ready to sail, we had been sitting in the sun for a little over an hour. I could feel the excitement vibrating through the air as we pulled the anchor up and motored our of the mooring field. When we finally hoisted the sails and shut the engine off the sound of the wind and waves casted a tranquil haze over SVZV and all aboard. It’s moments like this where it’s hard to believe this is truly my life.

After that experience, I wanted to take every opportunity possible to take people out sailing with us. Don’t get me wrong, I have an incredible time sailing with just us two as well, but it’s a special feeling to share something new and exciting that I’m beginning to love with others. We are finally getting to the point where we can take of and sail as we please, which has been such a relief for both of us. It is an unbelievably difficult test of ones willpower and self discipline to have a boat and not be able to use it often.

I’m setting a goal for myself to accomplish by the time travel restrictions return to normal in Hawaii (who knows when that will be): I want to have enough sailing experience and confidence to take my friends and family out when they visit, but this time I will be the captain and Austin will be my first mate.

Slowly getting the hang of this sailing thing

Deadliest Catch

We woke up at 3:30am on a warm summer morning. We struggled to get out of bed, get dressed, and head out the door. Although I was excited to go for a morning sail and fish for some Ono, I also strongly believed the fish still would have been there if we left at 6am instead. But you know what they say.. the early bird catches the worm, or the 40lb fish in this case.

It was still dark out when we pulled up to our friends boat. He had Tupac blasting, champagne chilling in the fridge, and was ready to get this show on the road. I, on the other hand, was proud I even remembered to zip my pants. We got everything ready to go, threw the mooring line off of the boat, and headed south towards Kaho’olawe.

The crisp morning air blew against my face, filling me with energy and excitement as the bow of the boat broke through the waves taking us towards our destination. I took over the helm allowing Austin and our friend T to set up the poles. We had two poles with massive reels out, each had a large rapala on the end that dove down ~30ft when casted into the water. So we threw out our lines, tightened the drag on our poles, and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

By this time I’m a few mimosas deep and enjoying the gorgeous views surrounding me. This was the first time anyone trusted me at the helm unsupervised. Which, in retrospect, after the mimosas, might have been questionable.. but boy was I having fun. Then I heard it.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The line took off, moving with more speed and strength then I had ever seen. I couldn’t even form words. All I could muster was “f-f-fish!”

I have never seen Austin move so fast. With the speed and determination of a NBA player going after the ball during a championship game, he sprinted to the pole holder attached to the starboard side of the boat. Moving quickly and seemingly without effort he grabbed the pole and inserted it into a fishing belt. Then he started to reel.

He reeled and he reeled and he kept reeling it in.

My arms were sore just watching this happen.

“I see it!”

“What is it!?”

“Bring it up man!”

“Almost got it!”

PLOP

Below my feet, flopping around on deck was the biggest fish I had ever witnessed anyone catch in real life. We caught an Ono!!

After cleaning him up and filleting him, we took half of him home and had enough meat for the two of us to eat for a week. I love fishing, but after that experience I’m determined to keep catching big fish. Next time maybe I’ll even reel it in myself.

Stay Calm

It seems like the right time to tell you my first “oh shit” story.

Before making the decision to purchase a boat, Austin spent a lot of time preparing me for life as a liveaboard. To him, that meant feeding me worst case scenarios and presenting the doomsday version of life on a boat. Essentially he wanted to make sure this is something I really wanted before making the commitment; and I did. He could not scare me away.

The first two weeks living on ZV were smooth sailing. Hard work? Yes. A major adjustment from life on land? Yes. Doomsday level difficulty? No. I was proud of myself and confident in my progression of experience and knowledge. Too confident.

I woke up a bit grumpy because I had to get up early to help re-drop the anchor, as the previous day Austin noticed our chain was fouled on old line and chain left on the ocean floor. It had been a few days since we last lifted anchor and we had been fine, so I thought it was unnecessary. It was my day off and I wanted to sleep in. His decision probably saved our boat.

It was a rocky morning on the boat. As the hours rolled on, conditions began to intensify. Out of nowhere, not forecasted by any weather app, the wind began howling and the waves started to increase in size and strength. We are fairly protected from storms where we are located on the leeward side of the island. But this storm came from the west, hitting us hard. The waves swelled up 10ft high. At that point I could no longer see the shore less than 50 yards away.

Already worried about the anchor setting correctly and holding ZV without dragging, I let go of my pride and called Austin as things started to escalate.

My first call went as follows:

Chelsea: “ It’s getting really bad out here. I’m worried about the motor on the dinghy. It’s slamming so hard on the waves it’s about to slide off. What do I do?”

Austin: “ Bring the dinghy in closer to the boat and tie it off”

C: “ Got it. Also, the rudder is banging from side to side and the steering wheel is slamming back-and-forth.”

A: “ Tie the wheel off to something to steady it. You’ve got this!”

It was pouring rain and the waves were pounding me, making it difficult to see and navigate the boat. I brought the dinghy in and tied it off on the cleat, making sure to put the working load to the front like Austin taught me. I located some extra line and began working to secure the wheel. As I was doing that I noticed an unmanned boat floating by.

“Shit” I thought, “that sucks”.

“That boat looks familiar” I looked up again. “That’s our dinghy”.

My next call to Austin:

C: “The Squid (the name of our dinghy) broke the cleat.”

A: “ Broke the cleat?”

C: “ Yes. The stainless snapped and Squid is on shore”

A: “Can you see him?”

C: “Yes”

A: “Keep your eye on him. I’ll figure out what to do. We’re ending the charter early. I’ll call you soon”

Waves were crashing over ZV and her bow began to dip into the ocean at the end of its ride down the face of each massive wall of water. I was watching other boats disappearing in and out of vision, hanging on for dear life as they weathered the storm.

With all the commotion, the Coast Guard zooming by on jet skis rescuing divers and paddle borders from the water, the thunderous sound of waves crashing all around me, I completely missed a small sailboat wash onto the beach. Now, I was hyper-focused on my surroundings.

I noticed another sailboat drifting dangerously through the mooring field, edging towards shore. It seemed as if the boats captain was attempting to turn it and motor to safety. In the blink of an eye it was stuck on the reef.

That’s when I made my third and final call:

C: “ You need to come get me. Now”

A: *guests loudly getting sick* “It took us longer than expected to get into the harbor. It’s a mess. Stay calm. You’re doing good. ”

The whole ordeal only lasted for 3-4 hours. I’m proud to say I only cried for 30 minutes of it. This experience was a huge lesion in emotional control and staying calm under pressure. By the time Austin got to the boat, I was filled with joy and relief that the storm was dying down and our gear kept ZV safe.

Added bonus: the day ended with an incredible sunset. Almost like the Earth was comforting us after a long day.