Well, the last month has felt like a year. We’re finally in a place with WiFi and in a position where the bold items on our boat’s repair list can wait.
“When a great adventure is launched with a powerful thrust, fatigue in the muscles and doubts in the mind are swept away by a fullness that moves life along like a breath from the depths of the soul.”
― Bernard Moitessier
Every great adventure comes with it the adversarial trial of the starting point. A true test of gumption. The crew of SV Speck stood on the deck, well before sunrise on December the 8th 2018 to meet that test. East Boston had dealt out a cold that morning that you could smell, the kind that penetrates the layers and tears at your insides. The previous night, our savior, our diesel heater had given up and the question to begin was now on the line. With bones already beginning to ache and a few restful hours slept the bulk of the conversation was non-verbal. It was written on our faces. The crew of SV Speck would sooner face the unforgiving elements of a North Atlantic sea in the middle of the winter than delay our departure another day.As seen from afar (photo credit Matt Bennett’s Father), catching the tide right on schedule, SV Speck and crew enjoy the calm secluded waters of an off season Cape Cod Canal.The first of many honored guests, Byron’s father, Matthew Coughlin, accompanied us on the first leg of our journey. A unique opportunity to learn where the apple fell from the tree.Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Cold, breaking seas found its way into our already frozen feet.The onset of our first major offshore crossing out of Newport, RI, as night watches began we managed to snap a single picture that seemed to foreshadow the sea’s rage that was to follow for the next 18 hours.The prize from our perilous battle with Poseidon, a pod of dolphins greets the bleary crew of SV Speck on approach to Norfolk, VA, our entrance into the intracoastal waterway.Still a fledgling in VHF radio protocol, the aircraft carrier USS George H.W. Bush bears down on us, vehemently insisting we clear the channel.
Isaac at the helm navigating us safely through the intracoastal waterway. With 65 foot bridges, we were constantly nervous our ~64 foot mast would make it under each bridge.
Enjoying the comforts of a safe port in Charleston, SC and the companionship of family, dining with Isaac’s sister, Tirzah, Isaac’s brother, Levi, and Tirzah’s (now fiancé!) Ari.
A meager budget forces the brutal realities of hunter-gatherer life. A delicious meal and a regrettable brush with death for our friend Beaker Squakins.
After what felt like months at sea, it felt great to reunite with our good friends from Boston.
We met up with Byron’s Uncle Bob, Aunt Carol, and Aunt Susy in Vero Beach. We found them not only willing but eager to lend us their vehicles, expertise, hospitality, and love.
Next up: Gulf Stream crossing, Bahama adventures with friends, and more boat repairs.
