After a 2-week silence ...
So ... it's been an interesting two weeks.
The Race -- indeed we got out there, arriving at the start line in plenty of time. Dear Husband and our friend C and me aboard Orion, our 33-foot Hunter sloop. C has recently moved aboard her first-ever sailboat and has very little sailing experience and no training; DH has been sailing for years and always falls right into the groove; me, I haven't been at the helm atall since last February and was never "in practice" except at straight-and-narrow motoring in the Intercoastal Waterway (that is, a series of canals connecting rivers for a mostly north-south passage).
Picture a dozen sailboats milling about, each one trying to stay fairly near the starting line while also trying to raise sail. Enough seas so most of us were heeling and bouncing even before getting sails up. Lots of jockeying to avoid hampering anyone else's passage, follow the rules about who has the right of way, and still head into the wind to raise sails, then sail back to the line.
I'm at the helm while DH and C raise the main. As has become customary on Orion, something jams -- usually, as this time, one of the little cars sewn to the front edge of the sail won't go up the track on the aft side of the mast. If you pull hard enough on the halyard (that is, try to raise the sail anyway) you can jam it pretty solid. Bill goes up to clear it, even though I'm generally better at that task, because he expects to very shortly be manning the winch -- a task he's much better at. C does everything she's told, and fairly well ... and, as with most beginners, she's not able to anticipate. Every instruction we fail to give turns out to have consequences.
As the mainsail finally rises up the mast, I shout to Bill that I have too many sailing boats around me to be able to sort out a good course, and ask him for instructions. By the time he hears me and replies, we are heeling sharply, but I can't reach the mainsheet to let it out and am not quite sure that would make things better anyway (though of course it would have).
Just as they turn their attention to unfurling the jib, the mainsheet parts with an audible snap. The boom jumps toward the side of the boat about a foot, and then halts. When we look, it turns out that the mainsheet, a 40-foot piece of double-braided 1/2" line, has lost its outer braid, but the inner braid (about 1/4" in diameter) is holding. The outer braid is shredded for more than an inch each side of the break, and has retracted several inches. We could probably sail home with just the inner braid, if we were careful to be on low-tension points of sail ... but racing? Nope.
We head back into the wind again, furl the jib, lower the main. Never even turned the engine off. We're back in harbor in just over an hour after we left, the first ones out of the race.
Planning for the Gulf of Mexico -- couple days later we had dinner with W & G and their respective ladies to discuss what they've learned in the process of planning their trip across to Rio Dulce, Guatemala. It's just a couple of days to their departure, whereas we have more than a couple of weeks of work to do yet ... so we're picking their brains. Besides, they're friends, so it's a great evening of looking at charts over beer and good food, talking about the best places to rent satellite phone and weather, whether to buy or rent a liferaft, and so on.
They left Dec 20 and arrived Dec 26 in a beautiful Cheoy Lee 40-something with a somewhat underpowered rig (it originally was a ketch but suffered a major dismasting and a previous owner only replaced the mainmast, or something like that. So it looks like a sloop, except that the mast is a little too short and a little too far forward). They made 4-6 knots for most of the passage and spend about 12 hours motoring right into a South wind in the Yucatan Straits. In our 56-foot ketch with a well-powered rig, we're hoping for 7-9 knots, depending of course on weather.
Going sailing -- in the past week I've been out sailing three times! Twice in the harbor sailing association's 13-foot sailing dinghy, and today in their 27-foot racing sloop with 3 other women. It's been a delight, and a great education. My first time in anything smaller than the 27-foot weekender we had in the 1980s. Even in very light air I could get a sense of the effects of what I did -- pulling in the mainsheet and staying on my course, changing course (and which way), all the things that speed up or slow down.
And then today I was with someone very skilled who could explain what we were doing and why, and I learned a little bit about sail shape and how to adjust it. We were out in 2 to 4-foot seas in 10-15 knots of wind and having a marvelous time!
Oh, yeah! THIS is why I live in a dark cramped apartment where the shower is a 20-minute boat-ride away.
Medical -- The Eye. After the second bleed (Dec 9) I phoned my eye doctor in Philadelphia, who had done the previous repair. We discussed my symptoms and my impression that this began in exactly the same location as the October episode. He said I ought to be seen by Bascom Palmer Eye Institute in Miami within a week or 10 days, unless there was any distortion of vision or any blind area ... in which case get in to see them within 48 hours. Since the downside of doing nothing is 'retinal detachment', I took his advice.
So I went in and was seen Dec 21.
What I learned:
1. My immediate impression was accurate. As near as I can tell by comparing the two doctors' descriptions, what must have happened is that the triangular tear of the original injury left a flap attached at one corner ... and now it has torn off except for a single long thread. According to the new doctor, there's NO bleed site outside the circle of deliberately induced scar tissue from the laser "spot-weld". Just as I thought.
2. I found the second eyeball exam much more uncomfortable than the first, possibly because Basic Self now knew that the orbit would be mildly sore for a couple of days even though numbed and "nearly painless" at the time.
3. I went in to answer the question "Was this a new site in the same region? or a second bleed at the same site?" My new doctor wanted to answer the question "Has there been a new bleed anywhere in the eye?" But ... I was awake when the bleed occurred, and saw exactly where it started.
He said "I know it's uncomfortable, but I have to be sure there isn't anything else." What I learned is: No, he doesn't have to be sure. _I_ have to be sure. From now on I need to remember to be explicit with medical personnel: I am the owner of this body and I am the decision maker; you are the consultant. When I come to you to find out something, I don't need to submit to more discomfort than is warranted just so you can feel comfortable.
Yoga -- I did nothing about teaching yoga when I first got here. Then the other day I went into the marina to do laundry (one of the most BORING things about boating is the long dull drag of doing laundry at the coin-op) and took my yoga mat along. Sun salutation, tree pose, backward bending ... "excuse me, is that your wash that just finished?" oh, yeah, move everything to the dryers. Forward bending, shoulder stand, fish pose, spinal twist ... time to fold it all up.
A few days later I ran into the same woman who'd asked if I would move out of the washer ... and she said "aren't you the woman who was doing yoga? ... y'know, I've got the book and the video aboard my boat, but somehow it's just not working for me."
I found myself offering to teach a class, and the next thing I knew I had 5 students and enthusiasm for meeting three days a week! So ... a free Yoga class meets at the city marina after cruiser net Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday until we leave. And ... my body is LOVING the support for my own yoga practice!
Second Summit -- we finally got the forward cabin empty (a week ago), cleaned and the ceiling painted white (so we can see better with the reflected light) (5 days ago), new anchor rode installed (it attaches under the bed) (yesterday), and stowed (the locker under the bed is the biggest compartment in the boat) (today). New mattress is in place. Tomorrow we move aboard. Hurray!
It's still a bit of a construction zone, and there's plenty of work left to do. But the cleanup has begun, and now that the forward locker is full there's a lot less "stuff" laying about. So it's starting to look manageable. Whew.
Orion -- we may possibly have a buyer for her. He'll be looking at it Monday, though we may still be storing some things aboard for another few days. I'd love for him to take her -- it would save us the trip and expense of finding her a place to be stored for this winter and the 2008 hurricane season; it would save her being laid up for a year on the chance that we would actually sail her again ... and I'll miss her, too.
Interior process -- there seems to be less fear and more full participation in the adventure. Also there seems to be some resignation ... but not too much. We've started making contingency plans for an intermediate destination if we really miss our departure date and don't make the highest tide at our destination ... we've started looking at alternate airports from which to get to my son's wedding in Oaxaca in February ... we're starting to talk about easing some of the pressure and frantic last-minute-ness of the process. Life is good.
:)