… or rather on the skies and sea again.
At the time of this writing, I’ve just boarded my flight due course over the Caribbean Sea to sail the very same sea once again. It has been some years since I touched that beautiful clear blue water.
This is going to be a basic blog post for now. I quickly set up the blog 30 minutes before I boarded my flight out of LAX. Last time I blogged was 16 years ago in the Himalayas. I’m a bit rusty here. More photos to come.
Moving on…
It was 4 years ago that I crossed the Caribbean Sea to help my friend John sail his boat Prudence to Panama. I joined him a couple of times later to sail a segment of Prudence’s voyage home along Central America on the Pacific side, then eventually to its new home waters in California. We started in Grenada and sailed west above Venezuela and Colombia to Colon, Panama. We docked next to this beautiful Beneteau in Colon where I met its captain, Tim, who didn’t seem to mind my incessant ukulele playing in the cockpit across the dock. Before I left Panama, he gave me a tour of the Beneteau and handed me his business card, indicating there is much more to see of the world on board a sailing vessel and I won’t necessarily need to stop being a doctor. His Aussie drawl gave a sense of, “Ease up, ‘mate. Enjoy life a little.” I gave him the side eye and smirked, saying I quite like my day job. We were nearing the end of the pandemic at that point. My reply was sincere. I really do like what I had been doing and the path I chose in my medical career. As difficult as the pandemic was, especially for those of us in the front lines, it was the culmination of why I went into medicine: to be “essential” and the work is intellectually as well as emotionally challenging, impactful, and most of all, meaningful. It is the ultimate Ikigai, the Japanese concept of “a reason for being”.
Since then, “Captain Timbo” and I kept in touch. I went back to seeing patients, while he continued to cross oceans, inviting me along the way to cross the Atlantic, sail to Fiji, and explore Antartica. I declined all. Don’t ask why. I often seek the answers without adequate reason. This time, as Capt Timbo was embarking on yet another “hop across the pond” as we sailors like to say, he saw my post on Facebook 2-3 months ago about itching for another sailing adventure and promptly texted me to join him on an expedition through the Northwest Passage. I shuddered at the thought of the frozen sea. Last time I froze my ass sailing was with my then French boyfriend and his awesome dad in the frigid waters of Britanny in the middle of winter. It was incredible. I had incredibly fresh wild oysters we harvested ourselves and I relished living on a sailboat for several days. But once I went back on land and took a loooong hot shower, I knew I wasn’t exactly keen on cold water sailing again despite years acclimating to the typically cold and windy San Francisco Bay. I told Capt Timbo to text me when he’s heading to warmer waters. Soon enough, as he was halfway across the Atlantic en route to Sta Lucia, he texted me to come join him in the Caribbean. There was talk of exploring numerous islands, an opportunity I never dared to dream of, and yet there it was! It essentially docked on my lap and my imagination set sail ahead of me! I had my initial hesitation. Who in their right mind would hesitate? I don’t particularly like taking time off during flu season. To me, it is “all hands on deck” and it is a matter of principle that I do not abandon ship at the busiest time for urgent care. But it was too good to pass up. So whithin a couple of days, I got the time off approved and here I am, flying back to Grenada, this time to sail north along the islands of the Lesser Antilles.