How I was slowly seduced
Home is changing
By Anne Barnes (from 'Changing Places: True stories from women on the water' by SisterShip Press 2020)
It happened so gradually I don’t really remember when ‘home’ became a boat, not a house. In the beginning the boat was ‘his’. I was happy that he was happy. I had my own interests and figured he would potter about with his ‘hobby’ while I got on with my terrestrial pursuits.
I did go along occasionally, just for a ride. I sat in the cockpit, looked for dolphins, and then returned ‘home’ at the end of the day considering my tour of duty complete. I took no interest in the maintenance or improvement projects that seemed to provide endless hours of either joy or frustration to my clearly besotted partner. A night aboard now and then was more than enough for me and I scuttled happily ‘home’ to my garden and cheery open fire. My happiness-scales were heavily skewed to land-based activities.
I was busy elsewhere, in the garden perhaps, the first time the boat was hauled out for a bottom scrub. The second time I went along but didn’t do much, I mean, who expects a woman to sand or paint a boat? A house, yes, but a boat? That’s a boy’s toy. By the third haul out I was actively helping, scraping stubborn little barnacles and dabbing antifoul paint here and there. I started to take a little more interest.
I’m not sure when or why I started tagging along more often on trips to the water. Weekends on the mooring or anchored in a quiet bay gradually became more frequent.
I was being ever so slyly seduced; not by my man, not by the water, nor the sky, and definitely not by the boat, but by a combination of them all.
The stillness at night, barely a ripple on the surface of the water. The moon, rising in all her voluptuous, silvery splendour above a silhouetted island, or hanging as a crescent on a black velvet blanket of stars. Dolphins, gliding effortlessly beneath the bowsprit or playing tantalisingly nearby but always just out of camera shot. The warmth of the sun on a winter’s morning, coffee in one hand and a book lying unopened while I sat, content to just ‘be’. The smile of my loved one, as we stood hand in hand on the foredeck, drinking in a sunset as the sky exploded with colour around us. All these elements combined to enchant me, casting a spell that became stronger with time.
Of course, boating is not all dolphins, moonbeams, and sunsets. Far from it.
There were nights when frayed nerves kept me awake as the wind howled through the rigging. Days when the chill of the wind cut through every layer and I struggled to breathe through the heavy woollen scarf I’d wound tightly around my face, only my eyes peeking between it and the thick fleece beanie pulled firmly over my ears. Times when tempers flared and sharp words exchanged as things went pear-shaped, as they do often when you combine human nature with mother nature… and add a boat.
These things only served to strengthen the thread that steadily pulled me seaward. Did the boat seem increasingly smug, bobbing innocently and occasionally tugging at her mooring while we rowed towards her each week? It certainly looked that way.
Weekends were suddenly dedicated to ‘boat time’ and dry bags sat packed and waiting in anticipation for Friday afternoon to roll around. The garden lay neglected. Land-based friends confused by my reluctance to commit to anything non-boat related. “Come to the races with us”, was met with “Sorry, can’t, got boat chores to do”. Sunday afternoons were filled with gloom and closing the washboards in the cockpit to return ‘home’ became harder. ‘Home’ was no longer ‘home’, but just a house. Somewhere to go in between the real life I had discovered. Somewhere to be endured.
One day in the not-too-distant future, I hope the transition will be complete and the ‘home’ I yearn for all week, will become a reality. In the meantime, I dream, and plan, and endure… and keep that dry bag waiting next to the ‘house’ door, ready to head ‘home’ at every opportunity I get.
'Changing Places: True stories from women on the water' is available as an eBook and paperback from Amazon and the WWSA webpage.
Find out more at www.sistershippress.com
Our Major Supporters
ABOUT US
CONTACT US
admin@womenwhosailaustralia.com
Website proudly created by Saltwater Digital