My Heart

Too little sailing this summer (or any summer, for that matter). Too many other things on my plate, including doing nothing at all. Besides, my sailing partner is not yet retired, very engaged in her community, and uses scarce vacation time to travel with her husband. So while the boat has been out (and more often than the past couple of years), it hasn't been a lot.

Early voyage

We finally carved out time and space for a three-day cruise. It has been a couple of years since we've done more than just a single overnight, so we had some work to do, getting the boat ready to support us for an extended time. On a summer day sail, we don't spend any time below deck in the cabin. We did work on the plumbing and electrical systems, made sure we had stove fuel and ability to make coffee, and did extensive de-cluttering to have space to move below.

My sailing partner is one of my best friends from high school, "J". We used to skip school to go sailing together. We took her family's small, open, sailboat for a week at a time on cruises along Fire Island, lashing a tarp over the boom to sleep. I was J's maid of honor when she was married. But through multiple moves for each of us and diverging life paths, we lost touch with each other in our forties. This was before the internet, when we were dependent on Christmas cards for the basic check-in, and the post office only forwarded mail for two years. Miss a year on the cards, and poof! Gone! Through mutual friends back in the home town, I had some vague idea of the outlines of her life, and her of mine. She was living somewhere in Pennsylvania, and I was in the Maryland suburbs of DC.

Winter day

Then one day around the turn of this century, out of the blue I got a call from J. She had a short-term contract job for a contractor to the federal government and so was in the area. We met for dinner, and I realized she was paying out of pocket living expenses. Of course I asked her to stay with me in my guest room. She was the perfect house mate - home to her family on weekends, backup dog sitter during the week, self-sufficient in all ways. It was so delightful to realize that an old friend had become a new friend! Despite the different courses of our lives, we really connected well. She stayed three months.

As her stay was coming to an end, I propositioned her. I had learned she had inherited a little pocket cruising sailboat upon her father's untimely death. It was sitting on a trailer on a farm field in Pennsylvania, and she was in no position to bear the expenses of operating it - especially because her husband is an unenthusiastic and queasy sailor (though a good sport), so it wasn't a family priority. My deal was, if she supplied the boat and expertise, I'd bear most of the expenses. So on a cold, drizzly day in November, we went marina shopping, starting in Baltimore and checking out multiple places on the creeks along the Patapsco River. We ended up selecting the last one we found. That spring, J hooked the trailer to her van, and drove it down and dropped it in a nearby boatyard for commissioning. Several weekends we spent working on Salud, and finally dunked her and putted up to our new marina. Fun times for a few years in the little pocket cruiser with an outboard motor.

Snug, with no sails, in her slip

But after gaining some confidence for a few years, I yearned to go further afield in a more substantial boat. Salud was really seaworthy, but so small that moving aboard required coordinating with anyone else on board. Used fiberglass boats last virtually forever, and so can be found surprisingly affordable. In 2004, I bought my Mutima. She is considered small by today's standards at 28', but for 2-4 people she is sweet. Since both J and I are short, we can stand fully in the cabin. She is just small enough that in anything less than a full gale, we can pull her around a dock with brute strength. She has an inboard diesel engine (turn key, press button, she starts every time). She has a toilet, running hot and cold water, and an alcohol stove. J is fully my partner in taking care of her, and has boat privileges to go out without me. But she is my tiny little home on the water.

Earsplitting grin is customary

It took a long time to come up with the name. "Mutima" is a word that in several African languages of the Bantu family (including Swahili) means "my heart" and is often used as a proper name. In my brother-in-law's family, it is the nick-name mothers call their first daughter as a baby. Mutima is my happy place - my cozy bunk in her cabin is what comes to mind when visualizing where I feel safe and happy.

Sailing as an activity is also very important to me. Reading in Atomic Habits today, it was explained we enjoy activities where we are challenged but have a good chance to be successful. Sailing is most often in that sweet spot for me. Rarely boring, sometimes exciting, a tiny bit genuinely dangerous, it fulfills something in my soul. And J and I are so comfortable together that facing storms, contrary seas, biting flies, broken equipment, etc., are all handled with minimal fuss.

Always wonder if we'll fit!

This last weekend, we didn't have any of those problems. Things were close to perfect! We galloped down the bay at half again as fast as most of our summer day sails. We anchored in the early afternoon in a creek we had never been before. Minor boat chores, some swimming off the boat, and just hanging about and reading and chatting filled the day. We had prepared food in advance, so we had a tasty cold supper of roast chicken, cauliflower salad, ginger green beans, and sesame noodles. I was asleep with the falling of dark. The next morning, after coffee, we had a more frustrating motor-sail in fluky winds and a strong adverse current about half way back up north, again anchoring in a lovely sheltered creek in mid-afternoon. Repeat of the afternoon and evening activities. Monday's sail back north was speedy and fun, with a great, favorable wind taking us where we wanted to go.

I was so tired when we got back. We cleaned her up, offloaded stuff, and added on basic hurricane prep, just in case of Dorian. I was asleep by 8:30 that night. The next day I woke stiff and moved painfully, but a half hour down in the basement gym loosened me up and I feel great!

Nearly home