Where is everyone?


May 7 // 1 0 0 0  I s l a n d s //  “Anchored snugly in a beautiful quiet spot amidst multiple islands. I am loving Navionics, which makes cruising so much easier. Jessie and I have switched roles. She is the mom. She is in charge. I like it ” – Claire. My mother.

May 8 // Departing 1 0 0 0  I s l a n d s // The olive oil has congealed. Snowflakes rest on my Gill gear. The lines wrap stiffly around the winches. The northerly air sears the side of my face. I ice skate on the frosty deck to hoist the anchor. My nostrils are smokestacks.

I knew leaving this early in the spring was questionable. I knew it would be brutal. I knew it wouldn’t be a joy ride. I’ve always been a believer in having control over my attitude in awful conditions, and do trust greatly that bitching is a waste of energy. Don’t get me wrong – I do bitch. I bitch most often in the form of writing but very little in the physical presence of other humans

It’s snowing. Not just a little bit. It’s actually snowing. When it began to fall this morning it looked like specs of glitter. We motor through Islands, mansions, cottages, all appearing to be unoccupied. It’s beautiful.  For a moment I think to myself how amazing this is – cruising the St. Lawrence River in the snow. There is absolutely no one. Just us.

The wind picks up out the North. Glitter morphs into wet bullets. We have over 30 miles to go and my enthusiasm turns to panic. That moment I had with the remote islands, mansions, and glitter is history. I am wondering what the hell we are doing out here.

Where is everyone?

MAY 9 // En route to C h r y s l e r  P a r k // The river is flooded. Cabins look like they are floating. Trees, branches, and pieces of dock float down-bound alongside us. Marinas are closed. When we phone ahead  to find out if any docks can accommodate us – voices are weary. This is the highest anyone has ever seen the river.

 I am inside warming up while mom is at the helm. The current is moving us swiftly. An easy two knots accelerate our progress. Rain instead of snow today. When cold days stack on top of each other I find there is only way to distract myself from the situation. Taylor Swift. By default it is her album I turn up loudly.  I look up to see my mom swimming in her multiple layers of foul weather gear, but it’s more than just a swim. She is dancing. She is smiling. She is getting rained on. All by herself. She looks so happy. I can’t help but think to myself – w o w – there she is, a prime example of how to shift your mind in unpleasant situations. I must have learned this from her. I am instantly proud of her. Proud to be hers. I join her in the cockpit for a Taylor Swift dance and we float on down the river on auto-pilot in the rain. I am not cold anymore.

Where is everyone?

May 10 // En route to C o r n w a l l // We slept like babies who were given sips of whiskey. Borderline comatose. This morning we took turns taking hot showers in the marina. By the time I was done with mine, mom had banana walnut pancakes prepared. Role change again. She is the mom. I am the daughter.

The river is glassy today. Everything mirrors the surface. Double Desirée. Double clouds. Double birds. Double ships. Double me. Again, no one is around. Just us, the cormorants, and the swallows floating on a surface of mercury.

Mom is nervous about the locks because she has never been through one. As we drift up to the cement wall painted with colors scraped off  large ships, she wraps a line around the floating bollard. We begin to go down. Down. Down. Down we go. Looking up at the colossal cement chamber surrounding us, her eyes widen. Here we are at the bottom of a water elevator, sinking deeply into its’ engineering. The leaky gates open. We are released back onto the mercury river. Mom isn’t a “lock virgin” anymore. Her confidence is immediately restored.

MAY 11 // En Route to V a l l e y f i e l d  // I like rivers. I like locks. I like shoreline. I like the birds. I like the houses. I like the floating debris. I like talking to ships. I like waving to fisherman. I like watching the clouds pass from one tree line to the next. I like not knowing whats around the next corner. I like seeking the next buoy. I like that they lead you to oceans. But I am scared of the ocean. It’s not that far ahead of me. I wish this river would take me all the way to England.

May 12 // En Route to M o n t r e a l // Sitting at the helm eating cookies, unsure how else I should spend this time. Driving in circles, being ignored by the Valleyfield bridge operator.

Forty minutes later we are acknowledged by the bridge man, who grants us special permission to pass under the next two bridges, and through two locks. They do not technically open to pleasure craft until tomorrow. I was supposed to be given permission by the seaway ahead of time to pass through – but like the bridge man – they never responded to me. We are only the second sailboat to transit the seaway this season. Where is everyone?

The bridge opens. We stop traffic. We pass under and thank the bridge man for making an exception. We arrive at the next bridge and wait. I eat more cookies. Do a few push-ups. Forty minutes later a ship comes roaring by and the second bridge opens. The ship ignores my call. The bridge ignores my call. We follow in his wake. We arrive at the first lock. Tie up to a floating dock. I eat another cookie. Do a few dips. Mom calls the lock master. We wait. An hour and  half later, two ships have locked through and we get the green light. It’s out turn.

We lock down. Motor through a canal 1/2 a mile long, and pass another up-bound ship. The ship is from Holland. The men wave. We wave back. They wave again. And so do we. This goes on until we are out of sight. I imagine what it was like to cross the ocean on that ship. I imagine what it will be like to cross in Desirée.

We lock down again. The gate opens.

I CAN SEE MONTREAL! The city skyline… It’s right there in front of us.

I REPEAT : I CAN SEE MONTREAL ! I would like another cookie please.

WE MADE IT TO MONTREAL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There everyone is. 



Spice Girls

Leg 2-39

In 18 days I have had 3 sets of crew and together we have traveled 902.69 nautical miles, averaging 64 miles a day at 6.1 knots.

14 of those days were traveling, 4 of them down days for weather and maintenance.

A fraction of Lake Michigan, and the whole of Huron, Erie, Welland Canal and Ontario are complete. I am pleased to say they are behind us now.

We have made it to the gateway of the St. Lawrence seaway ahead of schedule. I repeat – ahead of schedule. Unheard of.


We arrived in Kingston, Ontario at 7 am after 128 mile overnight from Whitby, Ontario. That day, I couldn’t even muster up the energy to stand up, to eat, to drink water, until 5pm. It had all caught up to me. The Lakes. The wind. The rain. The unbearable temperatures. The tight quarters. The change of diet. The lack of sleep. The sense of responsibility. The maintenance. The heightened awareness. The constant anxiety of making the right decision. The friends. And maybe some of the beers. All of it caught up with me. I was defeated.

This was however, exactly what I wanted. This was what I signed up for. I paid money for this. And when I was hit with total exhaustion I thought – Hell yes. Just let me sleep for a second. I’ll be ready again. I promise. Just let me rest.

This is only the beginning.

The perfect person showed up that evening. My mother.

Leg 2-16

My co-captain and celebrity guest Katie Smith, AKA Katie Girl, flew all the back from California to help me sail through Lake Erie and the Welland Canal. Two of my other closest friends signed up to be cold, wet and miserable with us. One whom I’ve known since kindergarten Olivia, AKA O- Dawg, found herself as a very creative chef, a galley genius to say the least. One of my other bestest from college Erica, AKA E-Money, researched and delivered the history of each landmark we passed and expressed genuine interest in life aboard.

Leg 2-14

We wove through hundreds of fisherman and a handful of ships southbound on the Detroit River. I do guarantee we were the only sailboat with a chock-full of women in the cockpit listening to the Spice Girls. I was bound for England after all, figured if I knew some classic English pop by the time I got there the locals would accept me. We spiced our way to the mouth of Lake Erie.

O-dawg and E$ both got sea-sick on day one. Bless their little hearts they toughed it out and learned how to avoid it there-after.

We sailed into Put-In Bay and docked in an empty marina where there was no one to greet us, or charge us any fees. What is known as one of the hottest party spots in Ohio,  was shut down aside from one bar. I considered it my bachelorette party.

A lovely gentlemen by the name of Jake Byers welcomed us into his local yacht club in Cleveland, with a slip and cold beers waiting. Thank you so much Jake, for your hospitality.

Our first overnight sail was 138 miles to the entrance of the Welland Canal. The girls did awesome while I hid my nerves, which I tend to do well. Katie and I helmed through the night. For hours we had a consistent 35 knots of apparent wind at our back, gusting to 40, in the pitch black. Wooo baby.  Focused. On a mission. I was so tense I could barely move my neck and shoulders the next morning.

Waited a day and half in Port Colborne to lock through the Welland Canal. At 17:30 we hear a knock on the hull – it was time to go. Canal traffic called for us and two other pleasure craft to lock through together. The canal is 28 miles long, with 8 locks that drop you 326 feet into Lake Ontario. It was almost a perfect night time operation. Until we waited for 2 hours for an unbound ship to pass, when of course, I couldn’t start the engine. There was a problem with the starter. Traffic control requested we get towed through the last lock and to a safe place to tie for the night. The sailboat in front of us kindly towed us through, and released us near a cement wall to tie up. It was not the most graceful pass off – but it worked. The following day we sorted out the problem. The starter was dangling from it’s bolts. One of which was stripped.

My Spice Girls hopped off in St. Catharines. But not Katie. Katie booked a later flight so she could stay on for 5 more days. When we sailed overnight and found ourselves keeled over laughing and exhausted at sunrise, I realized I needed her. Who else could make me laugh that hard when I am cold, tired, and nervous? God we laughed so hard. About absolutely nothing. My abs hurt.

Leg 2-18

In 18 days I’ve begun to learn most everything I was hoping.

I’ve learned and am still learning the boat. How 18,000 pounds moves through the water. How to get her perfectly balanced. How to maneuver in small spaces (still scared of reverse) I am learning to adjust my course depending on where she wants to go not where I want to go. I am learning her systems, from plumbing, to electrical, to mechanics. I have been forced to dabble in each subject.

I am falling deeply in love with Desirée. I feel proud of her.

I am feeling self sufficient. Feeling self reliant. Feeling resourceful. Feeling well prepared.

I toggle between thoughts ” I’ve come a long way. I think I actually know some shit.” and  “Who in the world do I think I am? This is not wise.”  It’s constant. I sit right in the middle. Which could be a good place to be sitting. On the edge of my seat at all times, even in my sleep.

I’ve needed to build confidence before Luke is on board. I’ve needed to know that this is something I can handle on my own if anything were to happen to him. I’ve needed to feel like a captain, not a passenger. I’ve needed the time to be scared and not able to ask for help. I’ve needed the time to make tough calls. I’ve needed to be so cold that 50 degrees felt like summer. It’s working. I have a long way to go. But it’s working.

My mother and I will cruise the next leg. 163 miles, 7 locks and a favoring current. Montreal here I come.

See you soon Luke : )

We are looking to have 6 sails shipped to a reliable address and contact in Montreal, if anyone has any suggestions or could help us with this please contact Luke or I ! Jesszevalkink@gmail.com // luke.yeates@hydesails.co.uk

Leg 2-9

Leg 2-20

Leg 2-4

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Leg 2-31

Leg 2-26

Leg 2-25

Leg 2-29

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“It’s just a lake”

APRIL 22 // 2017

It’s been 6 days since I have showered. Not really bothered about it. In fact I smell Fantastic. Literally. I’ve been spraying myself with Fantastic.

What’s been worse is that it’s taken 6 days for the sun to shine. When the temperatures rise above 40F, sunshine feels like god. Today sunshine is god. It is Earth Day after all. I could go on and on about how cold it’s been this week…let me rephrase – how arctic it’s been this week. I don’t care for anyone to worry about or sympathize for the crew and me, so I will spare you the weather details because it’s boring and that’s what people talk about in elevators. I will say it once and be done with it… from frosty decks to snow flurries and 20 knot winds out of the north I am happy to be alive today. Happy to get a few freckles. Happy to gain a few wrinkles. Wrinkle me up, make me a raisin. And when I am older, leathered, and decorated with cavernous wrinkles – I will remember today.

Monday morning, April 17 we waved Northport goodbye. Jason Thibedeau my (right hand sailor), Cody Brown the (deck bitch), and Mallori Sheets our (galley dude) courageously on board as team-mates until we reach Detroit. Each of us hyper, myself in particular with red-bull wings. I don’t know if my crew understood what this week was going to be like. I don’t know if I understood either. Together we would figure it out.

“It’s just a lake” as my fiancée Luke likes to say, purposefully angering us Great Lakers. I stood there at the helm, Northport got smaller and smaller and I thought to myself “It’s just a lake. It’s just a lake. It’s just a lake.”

For seven days, three humans looked to me for answers, for direction, and to make good decisions. I’ve never been a captain before. Only a co-captiain. The hazards that go along with sailing through the Great Lakes in the middle of April begin with 37 degree water temps, freezing nights, arctic and unpredictable winds, harbors that have yet to be dredged, buoys and markers that have yet to be placed. My crew was trusting me. I was trusting Desirée.

I have felt heavily weighted with responsibility this week. To keep the boat safe. To keep the crew safe. To make smart decisions. To understand my experience level and stay within those regions. I’ve exited those regions a few times this week merely because there is nothing sensible about sailing the Great Lakes this time of year. I’ve kept my chin up, been a bit ambitious, a bit exhausted and am grateful for the three people keeping my morale high and to have push-up, dip, and plank competitions with me just to stay warm. Did you know that the world record for holding plank is 8 hours and 1 minute? Seriously. Two minute plank in a rocking cockpit and I thought I was going to die.

I didn’t cry when we waved goodbye. Which I kind of expected to. I can be such a child in that way. Not ashamed. Okay, Mallori may have caught me glassy eyed. But I will admit to crying the day before, Sunday afternoon the 16th. It was unexpected. The Wizard was helping me rig up the mizzen. He knew it was our last day together for some time. He was calm. Giving me diligent direction and walking me through yet another hourly lesson. All of the work, all the time, the money, the persistence… it extracted a puddle of water from somewhere unknown in my body and shoved it out of my eyes. I just couldn’t believe what he had done to make this happen for Luke and me. I couldn’t believe he was letting me take his boat. His Desirée. I lost it. I thanked him. I told him I loved him. I wiped my eyes dry. And that was it. We carried on rigging the mizzen boom.

Day one :  Covered 65 miles with light headwind and anchored off of St. Helena island just west of the Mackinac Bridge.

Day two :  Woke up to hoist the anchor in 25 degree temps and frosty decks. Took Jason and myself to get the anchor on deck while we ice skated on deck. Tacked into 20 knot head winds and 5 foot waves while passing under the Mac bridge. Called it quits after 25 miles of hell because the weather continued to build. Docked in Cheboygan.

Day three : Ran downwind 96 miles to Alpena. Trying to cover 96 miles in daylight was a questionable maneuver. Huge rollers and 20 knot wind at our back was humbling. A few accidental jibes, and a handful of engine issues as it continued to shut off. To say I was nervous every minute of that day is an understatement. We prepared to dock under sail just after sunset, but decided to bleed the fuel lines one last time, got her fired up and she stayed on.

Day four : Waited out nasty weather in Alpena Marina. Heavy sleet and 30 knot winds all day.  Bled a bunch more air from the fuel lines. Went on a mad mission to top off water and diesel tanks. Found a bar to self medicate. Befriended Aplena Locals.

Day five : Made a run to Port Austin, 65 miles and across Saginaw bay. Bitter cold. Never warmed up despite desperate attempt to exercise in cockpit. Beam reaching all day, Desireé was happily balanced. The auto-pilot, whom I have yet to name drove us the entire way.

Day six : Today. 85 mile run to the mouth of St. Clair River. The sun shines. Wind is at our back. Wing on wing (two dogs f&$i*g as Katie and I used to call it)  Everyone has energy. Mallori prepared us a full pancake, egg, and bacon breakfast. Cody is dancing on the bow with a cocktail. Jason is basking in the sun. I can’t sit still. I am feeling wildly motivated. Motivated enough to write a few things down for the first time this week. I’m warm. I mounted our super sexy B&G chart plotter and geeked out over first use of the AIS when we saw ships.

It already requires focus to piece the days together. It took one week to remember what it means to simply exist on a boat. Only a handful of things matter. Food, water, shelter and Luke’s favorite quote, “Take care of the boat and the boat will take care of you”. He is right. His little obnoxious comments sit on my shoulder as if he himself is sitting there. Which must be the case cause my shoulders are sore and I don’t know why. I am sad he is not able to be here for this epic delivery to the sea and I know he is too. All of this is for him. Because of him. For us.

The crew and I have found our rhythm. Jason sweats positivity. He breathes gratitude. He understands sailing. Together we discuss scenarios and situations. He helms with confidence. Cody became a sailor for the first time this week. He holds a course like a boss. When he is not busy being the easiest going guy I have ever known, he shocks us all with a wild dance move. Mallori and I became sisters this week. She took over the galley. Prepped meals, and cooked in shitty conditions. She is the cutest button who flew all the way back from California to be freezing cold with me.

I am really proud of everyone. I don’t want them to leave.

Satisfied from the inside out.

My next crew arrives Monday in Detroit… AKA the Spice Girl crew (starring Katie Smith)

Next leg – Lake Erie & Welland Canal.

It’s just a lake. It’s just a lake. It’s just a lake.

On the edge of my seat and paying attention at all times.

One eye is always open.

I can’t believe I am where I am. Doing what I am doing. Going where I am going.

P.S. Just because the following photos depict rainbows and butterflies doesn’t mean that it is always butterflies and rainbows. But every once and a while – it is.

T e e t h S h a t t e r i n g



I hear an earsplitting “pop” inside my starboard side molar. I can’t see anything. I reach into my mouth to feel what just exploded and my molar has shattered. I feel around to collect the slivers of tooth swimming through my saliva when my port side molar shatters. I hang my head, cup my hands under my mouth and my entire set of chompers explodes, one tooth after another. Thousands of tiny pieces pile into my hands and overflow onto the floor. I have no teeth. The lights come on. I look at my ceiling sprawled with charts of the North Atlantic.

Good morning Jessie.

My nightmares are in full swing. In conversation I portray confidence. On social media I portray bravery. In daylight I portray proficiency. Should have been an actress. But when it’s dark and no one is around the pressure builds exponentialy. And all of the sudden k a b o o m it all explodes in my mouth. Shattering my teeth. N i g h t  t e r r o r s  s u c k.


Solve the worlds problems . Re- run halyard through mast . Chain plate investigation . Finalize crew .  Measure battens . Flake sails . Bleed fuel . Mount solar panel . Instal inner forestay . Put track back on foredeck . Stop drinking Monster . Instal Hydrovane . Ignore Luke’s socks on floor . Find correct alternator belt . Check all rig dimensions . Find radar reflector . Instal mast fitting . Remove all the gunky messes I made . Blog this week . Instal U-bolt fitting . Paint the bottom . Stop making so many trips to the hardware store . Draw a seacock map . Create a bumper for steering quadrant . Polyester hull at new seacock . Buff. Buff some more . Wax . Wax on . Wax off . Polish . Sand . Varnish . Sand . Varnish . Repeat 8x . Stop cleaning up the Wizards’ and Lukes’ messes . Just let it be . Make smaller goals .


Luke flew home today. Back to England. Back to HydeSails office. Our time slipped away as if I sprayed it with WD-40. I had a borderline panic attack morning of departure.  This is not our first rodeo, we say farewell every month. But this time around, I lost it at the thought of having to start this voyage without him. Before he arrived last month I was convinced I had this all under control. By the time he flew out I was convinced I couldn’t do it without him. My teeth just about shattered for the second time. See you in Montreal love.


We launched the boat today. As the truck backed Desireé down the ramp and into Lake Michigan I was beside myself. Crazed. The arctic air blew down from Canada, stirring up tomorrows predicted blizzard. And there we were – splashing a boat into the last of the ice melt. Like crazy people. Were crazy.


Desireé.  She is floating. Water drips one drop every ten seconds from the seacock in the bathroom sink. Water falls a baby sized waterfall at the engine water intake valve.  Looks like we have some leaks to fix. Rest assured, the Wizard is a fantastic plumber and I’m not a horrible apprentice.

Lake Michigan is more beautiful today than I have ever seen in my entire life. Could be a simple change of perspective. Could be the fact that I am having a complete mind-shift into living and breathing water and weather. It’s 50 feet deep and I can see the bottom with clarity. It’s jaw dropping.

Wizard’s on the helm. He looks like a kid. He is happy. I am happy. I make a promise to him inside my head that Luke and I will do everything in our power to take care of Desireé to the best of our ability.

I start the next list. We have so much to do. I don’t have time to be scared. Right now – I am incredibly excited.


Solve the world’s problems . Complete plumbing . Re-wire alternator. Fix battery charger . Collect medical kit . Order engine spares . Edson pump on a board rebuild kit . Order inflatable kayak . Pick up battens . Re-arm life jackets . NMEA2000 starter kit . Make a tool box . Fit 3rd reef on boom . Glow plug / starter switch instal . Connect VHF / AIS . Mast head light connection . Instal stern light . Leaky sink . Calm down stop panicking .   Reef lines . Rig mizzen . Balance rig . Mount propane tanks . Mount generator . Find a home for life-raft . Store books / charts . Put together ditch bag . Set up Delorme Inreach . Register EPIRB . Download charts for B&G plotter . Sand . Varnish . Silicone all leaks . Oil cockpit teak . Fill water tanks . Fill diesel . Talk with crew . Provision . Try saying the F word less .


It hailed big style today. Shit.


Today. Right now. I don’t know what to say. Hard to sum up the past two weeks. Still attempting to sail out of here Monday morning. I should probably not be typing. I should probably be packing. However I have had handfuls of lovely humans stop by the marina this week to wish me luck, to tell me they will be following along. I want to thank those of you for that. I have had a few of my closest friends drive far out of their way just to come lend their time and helping hands. I have a father who has been working day and night to make this happen. I have a mother who despite her worries has taken on a handful of responsibilities with a smile on her face. I have a brilliant sister who is busy being a professor but always finds time to check in with me. I have another half who might be all the way over in England but who talks me through every project, who can answer all of my questions, and who trusts me to make all of these things happen, all in a British accent.

Okay. I am off for now. Thank you for following along. Please contact me if you have ties to any marinas, yacht clubs, docks, mooring balls, anchorages etc. We will be passing through Lake Huron, Detroit river, Lake St. Claire, Lake Erie, Welland Canal, Lake Ontario, and the St. Lawrence Seaway… Montreal, Quebec city. Any connections help !


final week -3

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Sunrise -2

Hi everyone. I have endless updates for you about the current status of S/V Desiree, my number one sailor / tactician Luke Yeates…my mechanic / plumber / electrician / wizard father…my seamstress / logistics manager mother and how we have all been working together.

Trying to sail out of here on Easter. That’s in one week. It’s okay, I never remember when Easter is either.

I’ve been busy. My entire life has shifted.

I am a boat slave. Tomboy. Dirty finger-nailed and and borderline dreadlocked. Sometimes I want to wear pink to make up for it. I don’t even like pink. Then I realize I just pondered wearing pink so I open a Budweiser to make up for the pink thoughts. I drink it fast.

If you wouldn’t mind exercising a “wee bit” of patience I will follow up this post with details on boat prep, our itinerary, and of course some relationship dynamics because that’s my favorite.

But today is Sunday and it’s beautiful out and I have a very long list of projects to complete. I have something else for you instead.

A podcast by great guy named Teddy who interviews young sailors all around the world to find out how exactly they can afford to sail away. A lot of people wonder this about me and if they don’t ask are quick to assume what might not be true. We touch base on how it all began… how I saved, budgeted, and created flexibility in my life to be able to do these weird kinds of things.

Grab a cup of joe… or two or three. Have a great day.


P.S. Desiree is in the water. She floats (with minor leaks). She sails (exceptionally). She shines (after 3 days of buffing and waxing) She self-steers (Penny, the sexy Hyrovane) She purrs (after countless hours of bleeding air from fuel lines)


Sunrise -4


46 days and trying not to count…



I am running up walls and doing back flips like Jackie Chan. Electrified.  I’m ready.

I am sweating in the panic room like Jody Foster. Paralyzed. I am not ready.

I’ve spent the last two and a half years saving without knowing what I was saving for. This is it. My savings is being hacked away at to put it lightly – for those of you who have had something to loan it is oh-so-deeply appreciated.

Can’t thank those of you enough who reached out with items to sell or pass along, your enthusiasm is felt from all corners and it is outstanding.

We are checking off the list. The never ending list. When we check off one thing we seem to find yet another thing in need of checking. Trying to break this cycle. Keep it simple. Keep it simple. Keep it simple. How many people have crossed oceans with  n o t h i n g  but a hull? A lot.

Knee deep in mud studying with no teacher. Head just above water in projects I can’t do on my own. Swimming in a sea of emails. Trying to understand my priorities even when they differ from others.

I know this feeling. This feeling of “never being ready”. I tell myself what I have so easily been telling everybody else for the last 5 years, “You will never feel ready, you just have to go.”…. thanks Jess easier said than done.

I am officially taking the St. Lawrence Seaway out to the Atlantic. Learning as much as I can about it. Please email me with any first hand advice on traveling this water-way in the month of May. Anchoring? Licenses required? Currents/tide? Ice bergs in the Gulf of St. Lawrence? South coast of Newfoundland? St. John?  TELL ME EVERYTHING.

It’s March today. 46 days until my goal departure date. It’s a full on northern Michigan white-out today. Fuck. The boat is an hours drive from home in a storage unit. The Wizard (dad) and I are commuting often as possible to complete projects. Pardon my fuck this afternoon I am just in no mood to be censoring.

The only time the Wizard ever says the “F” word is when we are working on the boat. It brings me great joy when it slips. Just in case you were curious.

If all goes to plan Katie Girl will be making a guest appearance as we sail this ole yawl out of the Great Lakes next month. She always raises my moral in the crappiest and coldest of “shit-uations”. I know you all miss her, cause I do too.



The engine has been rebuilt. After many struggles we lowered it back into the kitchen where it hides under a secret door and rests. In theory lowering an engine back into it’s compartment is a simple task. All I have to say is that nothing is a simple task on a sailboat. 

One step forward. Two steps back. Everytime.

The engine is not running yet. In fact the alternator and spacer to connect the transmission to the propeller is missing somewhere in our garage. Big problem. However it’s freshly painted and looks brand new and I just want to kiss it.

VHF & Seatalk instruments also missing somewhere on our property. How could this be you ask?!?!  I  l i t e r a l l y  do not know. Probably because our property would qualify for the next episode of “Hoarders”.  Another big problem.

A new head is being installed. No more stinky bladder from the 70’s. Surprised I just used the word “head” that was very nautical of me.

Luke is drawing plans and will be installing an inner-forestay as soon as he is state-side. Not to mention 37 other projects he is taking on while working a full-time job. Thanks babe.

Set of bullet proof  Hyde Sails are currently being manufactured in Philippines.

We are rebuilding the entire steering system. Edson Marine you rock.

I’ve purchased a HYDROVANE. Bye bye savings and hello to what I think is going to be the greatest investment I’ve ever made. I’ve already named her – Penny. We haven’t met yet, but I am already having conversations with her.

We have locked down a SWITLIK  life-raft god forbid we need to use it.



Having trouble finding valuble information on the Gulf of St. Lawrence… Ice bergs, tides, trade winds, anchorages, shipping, fog, etc. If you or anyone you know has sailed the St. Lawrence out to the Atlantic, I would love to hear from you. Anyone have charts?

We will have a Delorme InReach, and possibly an Iridium-Go as well. Advice on  communication and receiving weather with either of these devices would be helpful.

Anyone have a Hydrovane? Just tell me how much you love it please cause I already sent the check.

Still in search of an appropriate medical kit / contacts who might be of assistance or have any loaner kits.

Does anyone have a drogue appropriately sized for a 37′ yawl ?!




Desireé is currently in a yard sale state. Bit and bits (so english) tossed everywhere. Clutter is my claustrophobia. I put on my blinders every time I go out to the boat and focus on exactly what we need to work on that day.

Luke will be here in two weeks. I didn’t think I was needy. I am getting needy. And right now – I need him.

Doing my very best to live this romance novel on international engagement but I am stuck on an extensive chapter about boats. Since deciding to cross an ocean together one would think we were business partners, not lovers. I remind us to take breaks in this chapter and turn back to the romantic pages because I am complicated and seek a scientific balance that has not yet been discovered. That being said – we do make damn good business partners.

The more I expose this experience to the world wide inter-web, the more difficult I find it to write. When I think about the people who may be reading I question every sentence. I do my best to just type to a screen. To nobody. To outer space.

I am understanding the power of a simple blog. How it has connected me in unimaginable ways. It’s wild. 

Every night I lay down I think to myself – there is no way we can pull this off in the next month and a half.

Every morning I wake up I think to myself – we have every means, every ingredient, to pull this off in the next month and a half.

So here I am. Doing backflips up walls and then sweating in my panic room. Just trying to sail across an ocean.

Okay. Thank you. That’s all. Bye now.


Two Girls One Boy

Jessie (Me. Hi.) Desireé (Sailboat) Luke (Fiancé)

Me and them. Him, her and I. Myself, she and he. Us and him. Them and me.

Here we are. Two girls, one boy.

I’m sitting here at my desk in Northport, Michigan. Seven inches of winsome snow lay on my deck, and they accumulate quicker than I can sort out what my next sentence will be. Luke, the man I agreed to marry, sits opposite me and researches the point at which icebergs shouldn’t be a concern in crossing the North Atlantic Great Circle Route. I’ve had my fear on boats; adding icebergs to the list doesn’t appear to be deterring my hunger to cross oceans.

It’s been just over two years since Katie Smith and I completed America’s Great Loop aboard S/V Louise. I’ve spent my adulthood making abrupt life changes in two year stints. Whether it was where I was living, what I was studying, who I was dating, or where I was adventuring – in reaching two years, some kind of fervent curiosity always led me elsewhere. Every time. By no means has this been a conscious countdown…it’s this uncontrollable enthusiasm to do, to see, to be, more than whatever I was, whatever I am.  I’ve been back home in Michigan now for… just over two years.

Staying put has always been my most difficult task. If you were to query my  multiple employers they certainly wouldn’t categorize my actions as “staying put”. However from my perspective these past two years have been my safest. My most grounded. My most sensible. But here I am again uncontrollably enthused about not just one, but two of my finest decisions. The first one joyously shattering my two year stints, and the second one holding me right to schedule.

  1. I said yes to forever. I do not understand what forever means. I don’t think many of us do. But I have discovered who I want to try and understand that with. Who I want to work for that with. Who will freak out every two years with me, dropping everything, most likely to attempt something for which we are completely unqualified.
  2. So what now?  Our first test is an obvious one: to plan a sailing trip instead of a  wedding. We will sail double handed from my country to his. America to England. It only seems practical for us to sign up for the first “forever” test.

As the list begins of how we can possibl pull this off by spring, I have ransacked Luke’s notes with full intentions of relaying them to the world without his permission. So here they are… Luke’s unedited notes followed by my italicized assessment of course.


Who’s boss? Well that’s obvious – who is legally responsible? You’d think that’s “the man’s job” but technically the boat is Jess’s and her sister’s inheritance. So she is the captain. This is correct, Smart man. I could be considered a co-skipper.


6000 nm “America’s Great Loop” with another sea-bird called Katie, aboard a 27 foot Cal called ‘Louise’. Made famous by their mildly entertaining blog, articles in Cruising Outpost and on Sailing Anarchy. Two landlubbers on a learn or die mission to sail the inland waterways and Eastern seaboard of the United States of America. Including Bahamas and Canada. They made it, and came home with two years  of quality live-aboard experience. 60% coastal cruiser, 40% adventurer, 0% racer. 


Sailing everything and everywhere since 1995. 60% Racer, 40% adventurer 0% cruiser. Sailed an 18 ft catamaran double- handed 2000 nm around Great Britain because he was bored of sailing up and down the coast. Humbly not mentioning he holds a speed record for sailing  around Britain. http://www.yachtsandyachting.com/news/21288 Later sailed a 1937 wooden 15 sqm 1700 nm from the UK to Sweden for fun. Enjoys difficult situations. Likes to keep the spinnaker up too long. Thrives on danger. Has the oddest sense of humor.



1962 Pearson Invicta 37′ ketch designed by Bill Trip Jr. Yawl. Owned by Jessica’s father Jim Wizard ( his pride and joy for decades ). Old fashion shallow draft long keeler with centerboard designed for CCA rules. I don’t know what CCA means. Won the 1964 Newport to Bermuda race. Heavily built. First GRP boat to win this prestigious race. I don’t know what GRP means either…racing stuff.  There are 20 of these hulls in existence. It has made 4 Atlantic crossings in it’s time. Our hull, No. 8, has not seen the salt water since 1975-ish. It is in pristine condition and it will be expected of me to keep it this way. AH. 



Recently engaged couple attempts their first ocean crossing of the North Atlantic, sailing the great circle route double handed across the Atlantic is considered tough, very tough. It’s a long way north, its cold, its wet, and its windy. The dangers are everywhere, Atlantic storms, icebergs, huge seas, container ships, and potential Hurricanes. Sleep deprivation from being on watch becomes debilitating, even crippling as the days pass. Tempers will fray. Will this transatlantic leave their happy engagement in pieces or will they overcome the odds and become crew mates for ever. Dun dun dun.  

pilot-chartAnd there you have it. We are both making light of this situation when it is in reality quite heavy. Poking fun at a serious quest is really the only way I know how to manage the highly overwhelming preparation.  Luke and I are taking on this responsibility seriously and have a full understanding of the threats it poses, the impact it will have on our families, and on our relationship. This colossal trial will test many things aside from young love. And for some unknown reason I have my head wrapped tightly around this possibility, just as the average 27-year-old would have around her wedding. What’s wrong with me? I am consumed. I am hyper. Keen – as Luke would say.

We are not being funded in any way and are not trying to be funded. Expenses are coming from what I have been able to save over the last several years and from what Luke will be contributing from his salary as the own label manager for Hyde Sails. We are blessed to have a solid, ocean worthy boat to borrow and if it weren’t for that we would be a long way from the ability to pull this off on such short notice. Narrowing down the list of prep-work and separating wants from needs has be tricky. Here is what we are left with :




  • JORDAN SERIES DROGUE (or something similar) 






If you have any of this stuff laying around, know someone who might, or if you have good contacts for any of these items please email me. If you have something else laying around you firmly believe is a need not a want / are interested in selling, email me. We would like to keep things simple as possible, bringing only the items that may help save our lives if and when we find ourselves in a sticky situation.

I welcome advice, direction, and any kind of feedback as we spend the next few months running around with our heads cut off. ANYTHING HELPS. I will be blogging about the process as well as writing articles for Cruising Outpost & Sailing Mag.

WOOOOOO !!!! ! ! ! ! !   !   !    !     !       !        !          !            !              !

Thank you for finding yourselves at this “mildly entertaining” blog once again. I promise to keep the content provided honest, authentic, and as relatble as possible. I understand these kind of voyages can be difficult to wrap our minds around. Those of you who make it to the end of these posts are those who keep me motivated. XO.

www. j e s s i e t a k e s p i c t u r e s .com

It is a balancing act for anyone who attempts to shift their hobby into work. For years I was hesitant because in this lifetime we all have our own cameras in our back pockets 24/7. We thoughtlessly document our lives in some way or another – so who am I to think that I can do it better for you? I never knew. I still don’t.

To say I saw a lot of beautiful things this year is an understatement. And now I want more. Thank you to everyone who has passed on my name over the years. Word of mouth has been my magic – wouldn’t have had the confidence myself  : : :  Hyper to be B O O K I N G for any of your  2 0 1 7  p h o t o g r a p h i c needs : : :

all images © www.j e s s i e t a k e s p i c t u r e s.com 


G i r l c r u s h. It blew up. Down on one knee.


 “Cotter pin”

“Gem stone”




“Uncle Duff”

“Saran wrap”




This is a conversation. Katie was on the bow. I was in the cockpit. We had not seen each other in quite sometime so we didn’t waste time with small talk and preferred to catch up on what was important.  After a few rounds blurting the-first-word-that-pops-into-your-head, I remembered what it was like to be on a boat with Katie Ariel Smith. Hysterical.

It had been 23 months since she and I had been on a boat together but one would have assumed no time had passed. The majority of our time sailing “The Great Loop”  was not all rainbows and butterflies as I tried to convey that through my previous word vomit. Photography and writing can be a bit contradictory as my images may have provided a delightful insight of everyday beauty while my writing typically depicted some kind of disaster. But this most recent trip was different. I’ve just spent a week on the Wizard’s (dad’s) sailboat with Katie and her puppy “Duppy” (No, captain Reggie has not been replaced. Duppy the Super Puppy is just easier to travel with these days). I unfortunately don’t have a story for you what-so-ever, simply some photos worthy of sharing. It was freaking perfect. It actually was rainbows and butterflies. I was sweating chocolate, she was shitting glitter and Duppy was barking Adele. Literally nothing went wrong. (Except for that morning we pulled up the anchor and were drifting towards rocks and I went to steer us towards deeper water, come to find out I had forgotten to put the steering wheel back on after taking it off the night before). Aside from that I am still baffled at the ease of our delivery and can’t shake the thought that I was undeserving of such a sunshiny week. I kept waiting for something to blow up.

The plan was brilliant. Katie and I to sail Desireé to a tiny town called DeTour Village on the eastern tip of Michigan’s UP … where we would switch crew with the Wizard and his Wizardess girlfriend so they could explore Lake Huron’s North Channel, his favorite waters to sail. A good family friend and his kids were to delivery Desireé back to our homeport, giving us each one week to cruise around on this dreamy yawl.


D E S I R E É ::: 1 9 6 2  P e a r s o n  I n v i c t a  37′

The Invicta was the first fiberglass hull to win the Rhode Island to Bermuda race in 1964.  There are only 21 of these hulls ever built. My sister and I grew up as leisurely and obnoxious passengers on hull no. 8. Desireé was purchased by the Wizard in his early 20’s after his first attempt to sail America’s Great Loop on a Coronado 23 when he called it quits after reaching the Bahamas. Took him years to pay Desireé  off as a diesel mechanic before he and his best bud “Hawk” took off down the Mississippi in 1975 for his second attempt on Desireé , which was a success. The rest of his cruising years were spent exploring the Great Lakes with friends, family, my Mother, and eventually my Sister and me. Over 20,000 miles logged, this boat is a brick shithouse.

Now at 27 years old the Wizard trusted me of all humans to sail his first born child around the bi-polar Great Lakes. Mind-boggling, I know. I was fairly confident Katie and I would have no problem delivering Desireé from A to B. Felt similar to when she and I took off on Louise. We had never anchored, only docked a hand full of times and sailed the boat twice. My experience on Desireé paralleled my experience on Louise. This time we were just tacking on another 10 feet and 20 thousand pounds and hoping to sort it out along the way.

The differences in helming this yawl were endless but there were two particularly note worthy… the first one being… everything worked. Every button pressed did as it was told. Anything that spun, spun freely the right direction. Gauges operated in their proper zones. The plumbing worked. The stove worked. The water-pump worked. The auto-pilot worked. Battery life was abundant. The Engine turned over smooth as cracking a Budweiser. Gadgets and gizmos galore that we could actually rely on. That alone… was like a 5 star hotel.  For two gals mentally prepared for all possible malfunctions, we lived like queens for one week.

The second notable difference…was curious bystanders stopping in their tracks to admire. We didn’t know what these people were looking at cause surely it wasn’t Katie and me. We have aged. Gotten paler. Rounder. Lost our charm and ability to exude enthusiasm about most things in life unless it involves eating or sleeping. But Desireé has aged like fine wine. We were bombarded with questions about every inch of her. Questions we were not used to answering. This was odd. I accepted strangers adoration awkwardly as it was not my boat. I did not work for it. I did not varnish all of that (only a small corner). I did not put in that time, money, nor years worth of re-fitting. But it made me realize that I wanted to, and a high peak of appreciation had been met.  We were used to driving around a mast-less sailboat that casually spit out black smoke which looked like a yard-sale and typically bystanders were confused /somewhat concerned that we were even afloat. I was so focused on making sure I wasn’t going to bonk Desireé into anything that I genuinely blocked out the fact that I was helming an incredible sexy boat.

Okay that’s enough, you understand how I feel about this classic babe and I hope these images help you understand my language. Yes I am allowed to have a girl-crush, and no it is not on Katie. But gosh she makes me laugh and I will never have another friend like her.

Do me one more favor and scroll all the way to the end because I lied when I said I didn’t have a story for you.



So then the engine blew up. Serious. Believe it or not I was not on board.  The crew who were to bring her back to our homeport unfortunately got handed a crap sandwich. We received a call from them upon exiting the De Tour harbor on day one, that the engine crapped out. I am not going to bore you with all the technical details so long story short, there was a massive oil leak and it had run itself dry and you all know what that means. Criticize all you want. It happens.

At this very time, Jude Law (if you do not yet know about Jude Law I encourage you to explore your curiosity) was visiting me from England. My worst nightmare is his dream come true. My nightmare – the engine quitting, relying on sails only. His dream come true – no engine at all, relying on sails only. Well, his dream came true when two days after his arrival he learned that someone had to sail this boat home with no engine. I can’t say there is anyone else I would have willingly signed myself up to do so with a smile on my face? I knew it would be good for me. Good for us.

One hundred miles door to door we smashed out an overnight 20 hour delivery purely under sail from a winding channel in the Les Cheneaux Islands, past Mackinaw Island, under the bridge and through Gray’s Reef to the mooring ball in my back yard. I fed off of his confidence and learned to be at ease with the situation immediately. I could go on and on about the e p i c – n e s s  of those 20 hours. But there are only  three things you need to know for now:

  1. I think I actually sailed a sailboat.
  2. Desireé is home safely and needs an engine rebuild.
  3. Just before Luke (his name is Luke Yeates, not Jude Law) flew back to England… my celebrity crush got down on one knee.


Swear I am not making this up.

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I don’t typically write about men…

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I don’t typically write about men. If I do it’s about my dad and if not him than it is highly unlikely that eyes other than my own would have permission read it.  I think readers come back to this blog to scroll through  a few colorful pictures and get a good laugh at something that Katie and Jessie did wrong on a boat.

This blog has been a merry-go-round of few participants – a kook named Katie, a clever mutt named Reggie, a combat tanker named Louise, and myself (The girl who records the facts) The four of us went in circles for two years, literally playing the same playlist over and over again, starting and ending in the exact same place. Allow me to stray from the merry-go-round and its minions and shift gears to what it was like to be on a small boat …with a dude.

As you can imagine, being on a merry-go-round for two years was nothing shy of  e x h a u s t i n g. When the carnival ride was over, I didn’t step foot on a sailboat for over a year and a half. Land’s creature comforts snuck in with incredible stealth and my feet became heavy with dirt. Undoubtably so, electricity and flushing toilets had stolen my heart right up until just weeks ago, when I dusted off the dirt and stepped foot on a sailboat again. But this time it was not with a kook named Katie.

It took a 6’2’’ British man named Luke who very much resembles Jude Law (or maybe just sounds like, I haven’t sorted that out yet, anyways let’s just call him Jude) to remind me that living on land is not all its cracked up to be. It’s too easy. A life at sea…should unquestionably be in my near future (I’m sorry mom). I met Jude last October at the Annapolis Boat show. Actually Katie will kick me if I don’t credit her for the first conversation between the two of us –  which began at a bar over several tequila’s and it still hasn’t ended to this day. Clearly I was intrigued by the celebrity dopple-ganger and combined British accent but I was most intrigued to learn he holds a world speed record for sailing a 18 foot catamaran around Great Britain. Ha! Little did he know I hold the world record for who can sail the slowest around America.  Let’s just say we have been chasing each other across the Atlantic ever since. Because dating the boy next door isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – it’s too easy.

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This story takes place on the south coast of England. Hamble-le-rice to be exact. A quaint seaside town where at least 5000 sailboats alone are concentrated. If you are not a sailor,  married to one, or work in the sailing industry, you probably don’t live there. This town defined the word nautical. There are a handful of reasons I ended up there about to board “Falcon” a 1971 28 foot Viking. That’s a lie. There was one reason. Jude.

“Falcon” is a cute little thing. Narrow in the waist, and her bow points in whatever direction the finish line is. Her cockpit sits low to the water generous in size. The large companionway leads you into a space opposite of large. With no standing room in Falcon’s cabin it felt similar to the interior of my Toyota Tacoma. I believed time and again I was small enough to stand fully upright but the cabin ceiling continued to prove me wrong. Jude’s torso was bent well past a 45 degree while navigating the cabin. Falcon has more miles under her belt than I even knew a belt could hold. Impressive for a 45 year old gal, her poise is right on par.

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The forepeak  held us horizontally just fine and I insisted on taking my side – the starboard side. The right side. The best side. Oddly enough I had missed sleeping in this awkward kind of space and found comfort in its shape. He definitely had some sorting out to do as far as his cushions, pillows, and sheets (or lack there of) but I didn’t care. I was intruding on his man-cave after all. Heads towards the bow and toes towards the stern was a new concept. I had always slept with my feet towards the bow and a dog to separate me and the kook. What can I say? Different circumstances call for different supine positioning.

The toilet (why do people always ignore this subject?) located right in the center of the forepeak, just below the cushions on which we slept was actually operating. I don’t know why its operation surprised me as the makings of a marine toilet are not very complex. I used the loo cautiously not because I was embarrassed but because my hollywood movie wouldn’t have ended very charmingly if I were to become an impromptu plumber…which has been known to happen in the past. And so I remained slightly constipated.

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Jude is a racer. Everything about his life revolves around not just sailboats – but racing them. I can confidently say that his racing tactics overflow to every aspect of his life. From the moment he wakes up in the morning, to the moment he falls asleep at night, I am convinced he is racing but doesn’t even know it.  Myself on the opposite spectrum, take my time in most things I do,  especially while on a boat. Everything about my former boat life demanded more time – and so I started giving and taking more of it and applying that to all aspects of my life. Apparently I carry this with me today. Living on a boat  forced me to slow down. It literally changed the pace that I eat a sandwich. Its doubled the time I take to form an opinion. Its tripled the time I take to make a decision. And this is where Jude and I differ. This is when he teaches me how to properly sail a boat and when I teach  him how to stop and smell the roses.

F A C T : racing, and cruising – are completely different subjects.

race 1 (noun)

1 . Jude won the race: contest, competition, event, heat, trial(s). 2 .  the race for naval domination rivalrycontentionquest.

cruise (noun)

2  Jessie cruised past: drive slowly, drift; informal mosey, toodle. 2a cruise to the islandsboat tripsea tripvoyage

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When I was at the helm, Jude was down below taking fixes and old school navigating (while I was upstairs cheating with Navionics on my Iphone) he would relay to me the course  which he wanted me to hold. Right. What he meant by that was, within a 2 or 3 degree error not a 10 or 20 degree error. I did my best to hold course and made sure he wasn’t looking when I was completely off. BUT being the racer that he is… he could feel every degree that I was off course because a tiny part of the sail would flap or make a noise and without looking at anything but me I received the “are you on course” question mark eyes or “nice job darling” heart emoji eyes. I continued to strive for the latter.

We spent three days cruising (I was cruising, he was racing) alongside England’s south coast and I certainly learned more sitting at the helm watching Jude hustle around the deck making constant adjustments to this and that, than any youtube video my dad has ever forwarded to my email. It was fascinating. What was second nature to him, was a lesson for me. Amidst my admiration, I knew my level of interest to make Falcon go 1 knot faster was minimal, but I admit to it sparking my interest. I could have cared less how fast we were going. Mostly because I enjoyed every minute of simply helming a boat again. Getting there faster was not on my mind. But it should have been because we were actually crunching minutes and miles to enter the Solent before the tide changed.  If we did’t make it through in time, the venturi would have spit Falcon right back into the sea. Part of me that was okay with that option.

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Jude hates engines. Sails are his engine. Sometimes I don’t fully appreciate the concept of a sailboat. I quite like engines as they are similar to my relationship with most men – they piss me off and I will relentlessly attempt to figure them out. I still firmly believe that if I stare at one for long enough I can fix it (works better with engines – not so good with men) His grin turned south when cranking over the engine where as mine turned north because its’ purr alone brought instant nostalgia. I went out of my way to make sure he saw that it was making Falcon go faster. Isn’t that what he wanted?

Having someone else, other than Katie, witness my strengths and weaknesses on a small boat made me re-think what they are… I think Jude would agree with me on this one:

Strength number one – to sit at the helm in silence and not give a damn where I am. My quietness is not to be mistaken with discontent. It is directly related to sorting out thoughts that I don’t have time to sort out in my normal life on dirt. Next comes putting on my cheekiest smile when it stars pouring rain and not bitching about it.

Weakness number one – sailing terminology. I was tempted to write down my personal sailing glossary so he and I could be on the same page. Like when he was setting us up for “wing on wing” all he had to say was “two dogs f&%$ing” I would have totally understood. Next comes the handling of fenders, lines, and of course relying on electronics.

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Jude is completely tenacious. I don’t know what I am. I yam what I yam. A dreamer who has a lot of nightmares. But it didn’t take more than a few days to taste the boat life I once had. In comparison to my current life on land – one is not better or worse. Land and sea, similar to racing and cruising are two c o m p l e t e l y different subjects. It’s just a matter of figuring out which one you thrive in. Maybe there is a way to thrive in both? I think I need to become more tenacious.

Let me attempt to bring this full circle real quick because writing about Jude does indeed have a purpose. The difference in our boating experience, our motives, may be black and white. But it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We drank warm Budweiser, ate stale noodles from styrofoam cups, got caught in pissing down rain time and again, stuffed ourselves in the soggy dungeon to have picnics at anchor, sailed with the ripping tides, and found ourselves one mile shy of National Geographic caliber bolts of lightning. Not once did I feel uncomfortable, timid, worried nor did I feel I needed anything else other than what was right there. I  a b s o l u t e l y  loved it. Every little bit. I felt safe. Was I actually safe? I don’t know but safety is nothing but a matter of perspective anyhow. Jude even boiled me water for coffee before I got out of bed in the morning – Katie please take notes. I completely forgot about those assholes (electricity and plumbing)  who had once stolen my heart. Didn’t miss them one bit. What had stolen my heart was the joys and ease of simplicity, and that, I missed madly.

P.S. If anyone wants high quality sails at a good price… I know a guy. H Y D E  S A I L S

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I am back in Michigan gawking over the Wizard’s (my father’s) 1962 Pearson Invicta. At the end of this month, that kook named Katie, that clever mutt named Reggie, the Wizard’s 37 foot castle named Desiree, and myself (the girl who records the facts) will be sailing to Canada. For too short a moment, the band will be back together – I know, best news since Budweiser cans have been relabeled “America”. Hah. Stay tuned for that story and pray for us not to hit any rocks like the last time. If we do I will make sure you all hear about it and that the Wizard does not.

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I should probably mention we hired a Morgan, and in it we toured Cornwall. Ahhhhhhhhh.