From Sea-Level to Cloud-Level

Well, after a solid month island-hopping down the Caribbean, Robin and I decided our time aboard S/V Catbird has come to an end.

As I write this, we are cruising at 30,000 feet above sea level, on a rattling, rusty Liat jet - and we can't stop smiling.

My man William Arthur Ward once wrote, "The Pessimist complains about the wind, the Optimist expects it to change; the Realist adjusts the sails.".

So, after a month of madcap mishaps and miscommunications, we quit expecting things to be different, and decided to adjust the sails. For two ocean-lovers, we are both thrilled to be far above it, speeding off to wonderfully landlocked Machu Picchu!

We realized that for both of us, the joy of traveling has always been the idea of following our own path, exploring on our own terms, and taking the time to meet amazing people and get to know some incredible places. On a boat (on THIS boat, at least), we were never in control of our own time, or our experiences - the captain was. At every beautiful island we came to, we sat at anchor far out in the harbor, to "catch the breeze" - or avoid docking and mooring fees - and watched life in the port towns through binoculars on the bridge (this we coined, "watching ants").

Going ashore was an option only when there were errands to run, and we spent every hurried, precious moment on land being screeched at, either in person or, on rare solo trips, through the static of a VHF.

Back on board, we were novice crew on a large, old sailboat (see the dangers and derailed decision-making I mentioned a few posts back), and we found it wasn't the poorly-maintained boat, the sailing, or the tight communal living that got to us - it was not being able to trust the instructions of the captain when we needed his help.

Every word out of his mouth, every line drawn on a chart, had to run through our "Don-sense" detector (good one, Rob-o!), because it usually made no sense whatsoever. As novice crew on HIS large, old sailboat, however, our opinions remained unanswered raised eyebrows across the bridge.

And I'm thankful for the experience, no regrets. As I said, it taught me to speak up - and it showed me that though I love sailing - the surprisensalt spray, the feel of grinding a winch and the pull of lines in my hands, the power of a sail - I will never own a charter boat!
That the make-up of the crew comes first and foremost (so glad we stuck it out together, R), and can make or break your time on a boat,
That when I'm traveling, autonomy is one of the things I value the most. Having the independence to stop watching ants, and instead dive into the culture I'm visiting is a freedom I regained as soon as I booked my flight.

So that's our plan. We bid adieu to S/V Catbird and we're fast-tracking to South America. We're going to dive in - we are going to surround ourselves with people, sights, and smells and food and music.

Off to Peru! Where we'll climb mountains, hug some llamas, trek and explore on our own time, on our own schedule. Where the only water we want to see is that of hot hostel showers and Lake Titicaca!

See ya in Lima!