We’ve all seen boats with this moniker across the transom. Today’s sail was exactly that for me. I was bugged. More than bugged, I was in serious need of talking with God. On days like this, I get on to the open water and have frank out-loud conversations with the Almighty. Very therapeutic. In the winter, I go for long walks.
3-plus hours and 13 miles, way out nearly to Poplar Island and back. That’s a lot of talking, but not without a good result. As a side benefit, it was an amazing day to be on the water. Southerly winds 10-12. Brilliant sky, 85 degrees and low humidity. Cay of Sea was in tune and in the groove. We carved a furrow across the water as I vented steam. God patiently, graciously, kindly listened and gently nudged my thoughts in the right direction. My speech moderated, my heart humbled. The breeze picked up. I needed to drop the boom to leeward and let the boat stand up a little better, but I managed to bear off, and the weather helm eased without releasing the main sheet. Still not trimmed correctly, but I didn’t have far to go before I headed up to drop the sails.
After 10 minutes of bobbing, I had the head sail bagged, the main furled, lines tidied up and cockpit reorganized for the mile transit under power back to our slip.
All resolved? Well, no. Not all, but the immediate concerns addressed. I now know what to do for the short-term. Thanks for listening, Lord.