This is the first in a series of blog posts I started earlier this year.  The entries follow our journey from dreaming about our one year sailing trip to making it a reality.  These posts have just been moved here from my personal blog: ericaconway.wordpress.com.

March 28, 2011:  The Dream

I love the idea that these words are the first words to document the adventure of a lifetime, the adventure that will change each one of us and our family as a whole, enrich our lives, and deepen our relationships with one another.  The adventure that will take us from our safe little home in Ho-Ho-Kus to places we have never seen.  The adventure that will teach our children a deeper appreciation for the size, depth, diversity, and beauty of the world in which they live.  The adventure that will open our hearts, test our endurance, strengthen our fortitude, and deepen our love.

For now, the adventure is simply a dream.  But it is a dream that has been shared, which brings it to the next level of becoming a reality.  I’ve wanted to take a year to sail with my family for quite some time.  I’m not sure where or exactly when the dream took solid shape, but of course it stems from my lifelong love of the ocean.  I have had a deep connection with the ocean for as long as I can remember.  When I think of any moment in my past where I was on the water, I have memories of feeling completely at ease, completely myself.  Even in a gale force wind, in freezing cold rain, after days of racing on a sailboat, I still felt more alive, and frankly, happier, than 99% of my time on dry land.  When I’m on the water, I live in the moment; I am the moment.  The ebb and flow of the waves on the beach are like breathing to me.  The water recedes; I breathe in.  The waves crash over the sand; I breathe out.

I grew up boating on Long Island every weekend and I lived on the water for years during my childhood.  I learned to sail as a teenager and met my husband Chris on the sailing team at Cornell.  Chris also grew up sailing and has a natural talent for literally everything that has to do with boating: all aspects of sailing, meteorology, mechanics, physics, and safety.  After college, Chris and I raced sailboats at all levels.  We raced around the bouys (day races) as well as distance races of up to 5 days.  The highlight of those Glory Days was when Chris competed in the Transatlantic Race on a 55’ yacht.  His toughest opponent was none other than Dennis Conner of America’s Cup notoriety.  For years, our free time was spent racing and enjoying a sailing lifestyle.  What better way to share our love of the ocean and sailing with our children than to give them the opportunity to fall in love with it themselves?

My secret plan to make this dream come true was hatched last summer, on August 16^th, 2010.  We were enjoying our summer vacation at the ocean (of course) on Martha’s Vineyard.  We were catching up with longtime sailing friends Bryson and Cindy Hall.  Bryson and Cindy live near Newport, Rhode Island.  Nine years ago, when we were thinking of a name for our first child, we knew that we wanted a strong name- one that symbolized an adventurous, independent, unique spirit.  So we named our son Bryson.  Bryson Hall is a great friend, and more adventurous, independent, and unique than most people we know.  He’s a few other things too, but we’re hoping our Bryson skips some of the notorious traits of his namesake!  Anyway, Bryson and Cindy now live on their Beneteau 50 in the British Virgin Islands for 5 months each year.  They told us all about how wonderful it has been to cruise down there and invited us to come visit during our winter break.

Guess how long it took to book our plane tickets?  About five minutes.  We were so excited about taking the children sailing, spending time with our dear friends, and reconnecting with the ocean we loved and missed so much.  And then…I realized that a trip like this could…Possibly. Convince. Chris. To. Do. Something. Crazy.

We took our trip to the BVIs during President’s Week, in February of 2011.  The trip was so much more than we had anticipated.  Bryson and Cindy were the most generous and entertaining hosts.  Their boat, Xanadu, is beautiful, comfortable, and spacious.  We visited all the islands in the BVIs that I had dreamed about since our honeymoon.  The weather was amazing, the island beaches were pristine, and Bryson knew all the local spots for the best snorkeling, sunsets, and happy hours.  But best of all, the children had their sea legs within minutes of getting on the boat.  They loved sailing, snorkeling, exploring, and playing together for the whole week.

Bryson finds a “friend” less than 3 hours into the trip!

The first day, I was down below unpacking. I could hear Chris and Big Bryson up on deck, talking.  Our Bryson came in and asked a question.  I started laughing and said to myself, “You know you’re on vacation with Bryson Hall when four minutes into the trip your son asks you what a cock fight is.”  It’s best I don’t get into it, but leave it to Big Bryson to know all the locals and their goings-on. The second tip-off that you’re on vacation with Big Bryson is that crazy things happen several times a day. Bryson talks to everyone he meets.  Because of this, we run into people he knows wherever we go.  We have only the loosest of plans. And if the winds blow differently overnight, a new plan is easily hatched over breakfast.  This type of flexibility seemed almost foreign to me.  Sponteneity pretty much left my vocabulary about 6,000 diapers ago.  But it inspired me to bring some of that philosophy back to our routined life at home.

We all took to living on a boat quite easily.  The kids were game for all the little differences in living on board versus living on land.  Showers are taken off the back the boat, standing on the swim platform.  The head (bathroom) has a toilet that must be pumped to flush it.  Fresh water is at a premium and must be stored in tanks on board, so usage must be limited.  Washing hands, brushing teeth, washing dishes, showers, and cooking all had to be done quickly, with no waste.  The same goes for the electric.  When the engine was running, we could charge things like the Hall’s computer, our phones, and iPods.  But we had to be careful about turning lights off, using the oven, and running the fridge.  I had optimistically brought my blow dryer and timidly asked Bryson what the chances were of me using it during the week.  I got a typical look from Bryson, the one that seems to ask, “Are you insane?”  I dropped it, and went au natural for the week.  Overall, we only had a few mishaps during the week.  On the second day, Bryson got a little seasick.  Once we got off the boat, he rested for a little while on the beach and then felt fine.  And on the last day, Reese and Chris both got stung by jellyfish.

Our adventures were everything I had hoped they would be and more.  If you are going to visit a non-tourisy place, like the BVI’s, you have to do it with someone who is practically a local.  Big Bryson knows all the harbors, all the mooring fields, many of the locals, and all the best places for happy hour.  On the first day, we sailed to the island I most wanted to see: Jost Van Dyke.  We anchored in White Bay and took the dinghy into the beach.  Looking back, I probably could have stayed there the entire week, although everything we did was amazing.  But this beach, with it’s pristine white sand, it’s casual, relaxed, “let’s chillax and party” vibe, and it’s little watering hole- the Soggy Dollar Bar, is right up my alley.  The bar, aptly named because there is no way to get to it other than swimming in from your boat, even has a tiny clothes line behind the bar to hang everyone’s wet money.

Those fortunate enough to have a dinghy ride in and “park” their boats all along the beach.  We all had a blast playing the bar’s signature game, which is a variation on the ring toss game.  They have a brass ring hanging from a rope on a tree branch.  On the tree trunk is a hook.  The object of the game is to stand 10 feet away with the ring and allow the ring to swing towards the tree and catch on the hook.  It’s not an easy game and gets progressively more difficult after each round of “Painkillers”, the signature drink of the islands.  A Painkiller is a yummy drink concocted from rum, freshly ground nutmeg, and some kind of orangy mix of juice and other stuff that I never felt the need to investigate further.

The kids were happy playing on the beach, although we didn’t realize at the time that they were being devoured by sand fleas and would be scratching at the bites for the rest of the week.  We took a walk to see the rest of this harbor town, visiting a partially built ship that is being built by local schoolchildren in an effort to keep the history of island boatbuilding alive.  Later that night, we put the kids to bed and Cindy stayed on the boat to babysit while Big Bryson, Chris, and I went to Wendell’s birthday party.  It was a lot of fun, with lots of Bob Marley playing and reggae dancing, and a curious fellow with a video camera circa 1990, taping every minute of the party.

The next day, Bryson treated us to yet another part of Jost Van Dyke: Little Bay.  Lesser frequented, it is the home of Foxy’s Taboo, the restaurant owned by Foxy’s (lesbian) daughter-thus the name, so we were told.  It is an interesting natural location.  Part of the harbor is calm and protected.  The other part of the harbor is separated from the ocean only by a small sandbar.  The water crashes over the sandbar and creates a wicked current.  As opposed to the smooth, white sand beaches on the rest of the island, the beach here is made up of shells and tiny bits of branch coral.  Difficult to walk on, it is nonetheless beautiful and unique.  We spent some time searching for shells with which to make a collage.  One of the bars back on White Bay is literally COVERED in shells.  Everyone is invited to bring a shell collage to hang, if only they can find an empty spot on the wall, ceiling, or porch to hang it!

After our shell-seeking, we took an action-packed hike, where we saw cacti, climbed over fallen branches, used our trailblazing skills to follow the “marked” path, and met some nice people.  Typical Bryson style, we had a crazy adventure that tops it all.  He paused on the path and crouched down at a rock.  He said, “What’s that?” and pointed to a furry lump under the rock.  We all backed up (except him), assuming it was some dead animal or something dangerous and under the heading of “Things Not To Touch While On A Nature Hike”.  So of course, Bryson says, “I think it’s alive,” and started poking it.  We’re all screaming at him to stop, but it jumped a little, which made its leg stick out.  He grabbed the leg, despite our violent protestations, and dragged the animal out from under the rock.

He held up the wiggling animal and there was a collective “Awwwww!!!!!” as we all realized that Bryson had found a baby goat.  In fact, it was such a newborn that it still had its umbilical cord attached!  It was so cute and loved being held by Bryson.  We still couldn’t believe that he would just pick up a wild animal on the side of the woods, but we quickly fell in love with the little guy.  We didn’t see the mother goat anywhere and were concerned that the goat had been lost or abandoned.  Bryson put him up near the top of the hill and, in the distance, we saw the mother turn her head, following the sound of the bleating.  We couldn’t believe that he could stand up on those tiny little legs, but he was in a safe place when we left him.

At the top of the winding mountain, we were rewarded with one of the most special places we had ever seen.  The Bubbles is a natural swimming hole, at the top of the mountain, created by ocean waves crashing through a cut in the rocks.  Over thousands of years, the water cut away at the side of the mountain, creating a small area where the waves could come through at an alarming speed and fury.  The power of the water cut out a small swimming hole, where the brave can bathe while trying to withstand the force of the next set of waves.  The waves are so strong that the water froths and bubbles-thus the name.

We enjoyed exploring the lagoon, climbing the rocks around the swimming hole, and allowing the waves to throw us around.  Porter was content with finding shells and other beach treasures to decorate his new friend, a coconut he found with holes that made it look like a face.

On the way back down the mountain, we found the baby goat still waiting for his mother, but she was almost to him and he was very excited (and obviously hungry) once she reached him.  We don’t know if she put him under that rock to protect him while she was off finding food or if he had gotten lost and was hiding under the rock.  The other babies were with her when we saw her off in the distance.  But it all ended well and we will never forget our little friend from Jost Van Dyke.

When we sailed away from Jost Van Dyke, I knew I’d be back someday.  And now that day may be just about a year from now!

In my last post, I began describing our sailing trip aboard s/v Xanadu.  Our next stop is Guana Island, just north of Tortola and east of Jost Van Dyke.  Monkey Point is the well-known landmark when navigating through the BVI’s, but White Bay is a small harbor facing west.  On our way to Guana Island, Bryson pointed out Cane Garden Bay, to the south, which is located on Tortola.  His description of it made me want to go there instead.  It sounded like a vibrant, cool place, with lots of restaurants, live music, and locals meeting up to drink and dance.  But we were headed to White Bay, and I was just the tiniest bit disappointed that we would be missing all the action at Cane Garden Bay.  That disappointment lasted all of one second.

As we approached the harbor, I noticed – well – nothing.  No boats.  No buildings.  No people.  Just the most pristine stretch of beach I have ever seen, with just the blue of the water in front of it, and the slightly lighter shade of blue sky above it.  A few perfect palm trees rounded out the view.  I felt like I was sailing into a postcard.  Imagine having what seemed like an entire island to yourself.  We anchored and swam in to the beach with the kids.  I noticed there was not a single foot print in the smooth sand.  I laid down on the sand and felt its warmth as I looked up at the gorgeous blue sky above me.  I had no intention of ever leaving that spot.  If you go to Google Maps and type in “Guana Island, British Virgin Islands”, you can see the island via satellite view.  You will see what I’m talking about.  The white of the beach is almost blinding.

The kids were having a blast playing in the sand.  I pried myself off the sand so we could take a long walk to one end of the beach where we finally saw another family.  There were a few more boats in the harbor now.  We smiled at each other, but we were both happy to move on our way, not wanting to disturb the feeling of being in your own private reality for an afternoon.  There was a lot to see in the brush and vegetation and we found some rock formations, which created a haven for miniature waterfalls, fields of moss, and tiny tide pools for little sea creatures.

We walked all the way to the other end of the beach, and finally saw some civilization.  There was a small resort community tucked back beyond the trees.  It reminded me a little of Gilligan’s Island, they way their huts were back beyond the lagoon.

Before leaving White Bay on Guana Island, we did some snorkeling.  I’m not the best snorkeler.  I can swim, but the Darth Vader sound effects disturb me a little.  The sound of my breathing makes me feel like I’m in a horror movie where the dumb swimmer who is snorkeling alone is about to get ripped to shreds by a pack of sharks.  Just thinking of that makes me start to breathe faster and more shallowly, which reminds me of how the music in Jaws gets faster and faster right before the attack.  Did I mention my astigmatism, which makes my depth perception even more skewed under water?  Basically, razor sharp coral that is 15 feet below looks like it is about to scrape my face, so I end up trying to swim without allowing my legs, feet, or arms to dip below the top three inches of water.  Other than that, I love snorkeling!

Seriously, though, I am trying to get more comfortable with it.  The world under the sea is so incredibly beautiful and makes what we’ve done above it seem like a crying shame.  It’s nice to be down there, realizing that so much of the earth still has oceans and reefs and this whole ecosystem within it.  (If I was a political blogger, I’d go off on a tirade here about saving our oceans and beaches, but I’d rather we all just skip the lecture and do what we can, when we can, to keep our oceans beautiful and healthy.  Thanks!  Please see my good friend Michael’s Public Service Announcement about keeping our beaches and oceans clean: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptBEWzA_Q_8 )

As we left Guana Island, I looked back at the postcard and took some photos, wanting to remind myself often that this place really does exist.  I will be back again, to try to solve the puzzle of which is bluer – the sky or the water?  In the meantime, it is there right now, warming some lucky, lucky soul as he or she is cradled by the sand and lulled into a swoon by the gentle sound of the wind.

p.s. We do end up back at Cane Garden Bay on our last night in the BVIs.  Stay tuned for THAT story….