“Embrace who you are and your divine purpose. Identify the barriers in your life, and develop discipline, courage and the strength to permanently move beyond them, and keep moving forward.” Germany Kent
Our journey up the coast continued north. The course we had planned was a path up to northern Massachusetts, stopping along interesting coastal towns, then crossing to Nova Scotia. As history has taught us, plans change. Weather is not the only factor in determining our direction, sometimes the reason is family. My parents and several families of cousins were getting together in Maine. My mother called and begged me to change our route to include Maine. She felt strongly that this would be the last annual trip to Maine my 90-year-old father would be making. She desperately wanted us to be there. Having spent every summer there as a child, it definitely would be a dream-come-true to visit the shores of Maine on my own boat. We decided to make that happen.
Along the way, we had decisions to make as to where we wanted to make our stops. Martha’s Vineyard was on the top of my list, so to the Vineyard we went. We anchored at Vineyard Haven which offered a protected anchorage with easy access. Always a concern to us is where to leave our dinghy during shore excursions. Vineyard Haven had a free dock for our dinghy, so we packed up our collapsible bikes and headed to shore to explore. I had been to the Vineyard as a kid and was eager to see what I had remembered. Sadly, not much was the same and the island has become quite developed and busy over the last 40 years. Beaches were nice, towns quaint but very crowded. The most memorable experience was stopping at the bridge famous for filming Jaws. One of the few bridges you are still allowed to jump from, hordes of youngsters lined the bridge, performing Swan dives, belly flops, and the occasional flip. It entered our minds to make the jump but biking wet didn’t sound like much fun. We abstained and instead ate our picnic lunch and watched the antics.
Next stop was to see the famous rock. Plymouth Rock. Plymouth is a bit tricky getting into because of the shallow areas, but we anchored just outside town. Only a few boats anchored out with us, we would have picked up a mooring ball but at $70 a night we felt included to anchor. A steady parade of sightseeing, whale watching, and lobster watching boats passed by. I wondered what exactly a lobster watching trip entailed and was quite sure if it didn’t involve eating one at the end of the trip, it would be totally useless.
We loved Plymouth. We listened to the park ranger give her speech about the rock and whether it may or not be the rock the Pilgrims first set foot upon. Since we love history, we took a brief tour and learned more about the brave men and women that first settled there. The town has many interesting pubs and restaurants, so we got our first lobster roll on our northern tour. Met a one-eyed man named Sloopy, a salty old sailor who wanted to be our cook and crew. He lost his eye being demasted as he tried unsuccessfully to round Cape Horn. I said yes, of course, Dan vetoed that decision. Guess I will still be doing the cooking!
Boston was a “must” visit as a very dear friend resides there that we promised to visit if we were ever up that way. If you’ve read any of my previous blogs you are aware that we left our lives on a horse farm to embark on our sailing adventure. Dan played polo and I coached an equestrian vaulting team. The reason I started the vaulting team, over 20 years ago, was due to our friend Jackie Sabol, who now lives in Boston. She was the 9-year-old riding student that decided, against my better judgement, that we had to include an equestrian vaulting component in our program. I followed Jackie’s wishes, and it just so happened the weekend we were visiting her, it would be revealed whether or not my daughter was qualifying for the World Equestrian Games in the sport of vaulting.
Our daughter Katie, now 27, has been vaulting since the age of 3. As her mom and coach, I was astounded with her success in the sport but would have never believed she would be representing our country in what is equivalent to the equine Olympics. We picked up Jackie early in the morning from our anchorage in Boston Harbor and spent a few minutes catching up. Wanting to go for a sail, we headed on out, breeze light and wonderful, sun shining blissfully on the harbor waters. Dan and I had been tied in knots waiting for the results of the last competition in Europe to see if Katie qualified. I forced myself to enjoy the visit with Jackie, the beauty of the day, and how fortunate we were to be sharing our experiences with a loved one. Still, I couldn’t help pulling up the website on my phone for the thousandth time and checking the results.
My scream could probably have been heard from Philadelphia when the results finally popped up. My heart rate quickened, I felt as if I could hardly breathe. With tears in my eyes, I read the results several times to confirm what I was seeing. Our daughter had indeed qualified for the World Equestrian Games, despite immeasurable odds against her success. Hugs were shared, tears shed, and the bottle of champagne that we had kept on hand just in case, was finally opened. Dan popped the cork and our hearts exploded with the cork, releasing a year of tension over this moment.
Suddenly, an overwhelming thought occurred to me. Our route had taken us to Boston after many changes and decisions to reroute the original trip. We had never planned on being in Boston, this weekend, with Jackie, it just sort of happened that way. Over 20 years ago, a little girl with a strong enough desire to talk an unwilling adult into a new venture, begged me to begin the sport of vaulting. As a result, the 3-year old that watched Jackie stand on horse and decided from that day, she would stand on horse, was able to follow her dreams. Jackie was sitting beside me when I got the most incredible news of my life, and if I could have picked one person on the planet to be beside me when I heard the news, it would have been her. Fate, destiny, whatever you choose to call it, made that decision for me.
It is often reinforced on this journey, that we really have no control over where we go, who we see, and what we do. The best we can hope for is that we accept all that we encounter with gratitude and wonder, acceptance for the good and patience for the not so good. We continued on our way to the witchy town of Salem, the gorgeous harbors of Gloucester and Rockport, and spent an afternoon at the Isle of Shoals, a favorite of John Smith. All were rich with history and beauty unique to each place. We finally reached Maine and had a wonderful two weeks with family. We spent lovely evenings eating lobster and absorbing the amazing feeling of being on vacation with ones you love, always knowing it is on borrowed time.
Finally, we had to make the decision to either continue our plans and be rushed heading up to Nova Scotia or abort that idea and head back down south. We now knew we would be heading to Tryon, NC to watch our daughter compete in September. Knowing our luck with weather and unexpected delays, we had to make the difficult decision to not continue to Nova Scotia and give ourselves a month to return to Charleston. We have a home for our boat there at our nephew’s dock and can leave our boat safely for the trip to WEG. We were very disappointed not to be able to visit our friends in Nova Scotia, who we had been planning to meet for almost a year. We will probably never have this chance again as our route from here will take us far from the East Coast.
As we head back down the coast and I reflect about the incredible places we saw, the time spent with those we love, and the warm glow of upcoming events pushing us forward, I realize the random, chaotic, experimental life we lead may not be so random. We seem to end up where we need to be, seeing who we need to see, and the quicker we accept that our path is not our own, the better we will sleep at night. We are right where we need to be and our only job, is to enjoy and embrace each and every moment.