Good Old Boat Issue 142: Jan/Feb 2022

Sailing Tales

Another Adventure Mending a father’s grievous losses seemed impossible until another boat came along. BY NICOLE BLACK ROBEY

E very year, countless sailors venture south. I never thought I’d be one of them but apparently, I am. Well, we are. “We” is Dad and me. It all started back when I was about 16. A typically rebellious teenager, I was mostly obsessed with doing the opposite of anything Mom and Dad were doing. I remember the day they returned from dinner giggling. Their laughter had an unfamiliar tone, so natu- rally I was suspicious (I was, and remain, a rather cynical and suspicious person). A few days later, the situ- ation worsened when a giant

world map appeared on the living roomwall. It was covered with push pins connected by red string crossing oceans and countries. I scowled, rolled my eyes, and asked sardonically, “What’s that?” Mom and Dad looked at each other like love-struck teenagers. They didn’t sugar-coat it or break the news gently. They said: “We’re selling the house and moving onto a sailboat.” This is the point when I should stop and explain my parents and their culture of adventure. It was just bad enough that when they said, “We’re moving onto a sailboat,”

I took pause. My cynical mind knew that nothing was too far-fetched for them. These were, after all, the same two people who, when I was nine, declared, “We’re flying out to see Grandma.” Little did I realize that this statement, when literally translated, meant that Dad would get his pilot’s license, rent a four-seat Cessna, and fly his family from Colorado to Virginia where we did, in fact, “see Grandma.” So when they started talking about living on a boat, I knew one thing: Do not underestimate them. The weeks following their announcement verified my suspicions. They didn’t mean “move onto a sailboat” in a one-day, whimsical sort of way. They meant, like, now. In a month. I watched in undisguised annoyance as our four-bed- magically evaporated most of our stuff. My pet pig was given to a school 4-H program, and I had to choose one of my five horses to keep. The rest were sold. Within 45 days, our 90-acre country lifestyle was packed into a 30-foot Bayfield. Of course, I protested. Of course, I declared I wouldn’t go. And my parents—always room farmhouse slowly emptied. A garage sale

so supportive (note the sarcasm)—suggested I get a job, rent a place to live, and board my horse. So, I accepted their offer and did just that. Sort of. Turns out the only job I could get was at McDonald’s. No one would rent to a 16-year-old (not that I could afford it anyway), and boarding a horse was a lot more expen- sive than I thought. Long story short, I moved onto the boat and learned what a quarter berth is. The years following were full of stories—highs, lows, laughter, and tears. Most of the tears resulted fromMom’s health. It just kept declining, and after living aboard for five years, Mom and Dad sold the boat. I eventually went back to school, finishing my bachelor’s degree and a juris doctorate. Later, I became an elected official and did a stint in politics. Mom and Dad bought prop- erty inWashington state, and over the next 20 years, they often reflected on sailing, boat life, and life as landlubbers. Sadly, more often than not what started with laughter and storytelling ended in hushed tones of regret. Mom and Dad never sailed around the world. Mom’s health just wasn’t stable enough. Unfortunately, living on land didn’t magically cure her. And after 50 years of marriage,

In buying and refitting Whippet (now named Bob ), Nicole and her dad have found a new adventure together.

46

GoodOldBoat.com