My slumber lately has been less peaceful than in previous months as I find my subconscious self trapped in situations beyond my control and wake exhausted from the effort of trying to overcome strong forces that cannot be subdued with reason. The first night I dreamed of sharks pursuing me along a sea wall as I tried to keep a small child out of harm’s way; I was only partially successful. The following night I was in a dinghy being towed in such a way that I was repeatedly tipped into the water, leaving me to defend myself from the attacking crocodile with an aluminium and plastic oar. Dolphin and Squid took bets on what viscous sea creature would menace me the third night and their choices made me thankful their imaginations don’t inhabit my sleeping mind.
I know myself so I know what these dreams mean. There is a dark cloud hovering on my horizon and it is the fear of the Tasman crossing. I am not worried for our safety as I have absolute confidence we will arrive in Australia unharmed. Our plan is to go where the winds and seas push us most comfortably. The east Australian coast is vast and can accommodate such an open-ended plan. As long as there is some westerly progress being made each day we will be heading in the right direction. My dark cloud is sea sickness and it particularly bothers me for this passage as it is notoriously tough (there is a reason why insurance companies double your excess in these waters) and so long that weather predictions for the end of the journey become more guess and less science. For me, the wind can blow as it will and I am ok with that, but when the seas rage in confusion I am awash in a fog that will not lift. The Squid revels in the telling of my most horrid passage from Fiji to Vanuatu; just ask him, he will be happy to tell you how unwell I was then.
To escape fear, you have to go through it, not around it. Its ok to be scared. Being scared means that you’re about to do something really brave. I have to ask myself what do I fear more? Being sick and useless for part of the passage or not doing the passage at all? I could avoid the journey and fly across the Tasman, but then I would stay as I am, and that is not what this year has been about. I want to be more than I was, and I must accept that this transformation will cause a little discomfort along the way. The reluctance we have at taking a shot at something in life lives in the fact that there are no guaranteed outcomes, and this has the power to paralyse us. I have no idea what state the seas will be in for our trip, but that uncertainty should not stop me from finding out first hand. These shadows will always be there in our lives, that’s part of our humanity. We need to learn to dance through the darkness so we can come out into the light.
So, I remind myself of what I say to my brave little Dolphin each time we are preparing to leave our anchorage and stray from the coast. She also suffers from sea sickness and the dread of any venture offshore leaves her desolate. I remind her that we have planned well and each bit of information gathered tells us this is a good time to go. We have every reason to believe we will be fine, so being torn apart by the fear of what may never eventuate only diminishes the wonder of the good things we will find along the way.
I should be thinking about what I most love during long passages. I love the vast expanse of sea and sky that surrounds me with no interruption. It is endless and immense, bestowing upon me such a feeling of freedom. I love the sky at night and gazing into the unimaginable distances from which the light of millions of stars shines down upon me during night watches. The Milky Way seems so mighty in the dark sky that melts into the horizon but is then swallowed gently by the sunrise. I love the deep blue of several kilometres of water below our boat. The colour is like nothing that we see on land or near the coast and on calm days I watch the rays of sunlight descending into its depths and disappear. I love the beauty of covering long distances without seeing another boat. The isolation brings a sense of peace. I love the joy of travelling so far on the power of the wind. We can move through Nature without hurting her. As I consider all these things my excitement for the passage builds and I can’t imagine any other path back to Australia than on QuickStar.
Land is the secure ground of home, the sea is like life, the outside, the unknown. Stephen Gardine