Testing the Parasailor

Today we tried our parasailor for the first time. I've never heard of this sail before and it's pretty wild looking. It's a combination of a parasail and a gennaker. It lives inside its "sock", and gets pulled out once it's been hoisted up, at which points it expands and gets filled by the wind. Similar to a spinnaker, but with an extra sail carved out of it. So beautiful. Ruben shrieked with pure delight when he saw it. We all ooooh-ed and aaaaah-ed. It's made with the same super light nylon material of parachutes and has a wonderful way of billowing out. 

Still from our friend C’s footage.

Still from Michelle’s footage.

Our family and all of Omana's crew are slowly getting into a little more of a rhythm. We're on day 11 and Sasha's mood has been improving exponentially. The first week was especially tiring and difficult for him, which made me especially tired and difficult.

On the topic of children, David informed me there's a group on Facebook that goes by "Kids4Sail" and I look forward to getting in that chat and learning from more experienced families. So far, the key to our own balance and wellbeing is “more people.” Ideally people who like children and are willing to sit through a game of Mastermind after dinner or excited to draw with markers while we're sailing in close reach (when the most heeling happens.) We have met two such wonderful people already, who are sailing on a Neel47. I'll refer to them as K&C until I get their permission to share their names. They're a lovely couple, willing to connect to us all and share their knowledge and resources. It's really quite special to have someone else to be in relationship with while out at sea.

K&C over for dinner a couple of nights ago. Ruben playing cello and Sasha playing the recorder up on the steps.

It's been strange hearing about the news of Ukraine's invasion while being on a pleasure adventure like ours. Lots of heartbreak and grappling with the violence taking place and its ramifications into the future. Everyday we read the news and talk about it with each other, supporting how we can from a distance, yet we still have to take care of our batteries (we have been having an ongoing problem with the solar panels) and continue with our ongoing problem solving and decision making.

I am trying to understand for myself how to remain connected with the larger political issues in our world without loosing the opportunity to be present in this special moment of our lives. This is similar to how I feel when we are in Chicago, but life on a boat demands my full presence much more so then while living in a major city in the US. There's still a lot for us to take care of to get the boat in shape for cruising, and then there's the regular load of parenting and staying alive. Most issues revolve around the children and food: what to offer Ruben and Sasha so that they don't get stir crazy on the boat? Are there any children playing on that beach who could buy us a couple of hours of "playground" time? How can we plan meals according to what we have in our fridge and freezer without having to "run to the store" more than once every 3 or 4 days? What's the nearest good grocery store? We’re also doing cello classes on Zoom, which is both wonderful and surreal.

Thank you Ms. Janz from the Lincoln Park Suzuki School for sticking with us!

On Omana, there’s no routine: every day is different and dependent on the weather, necessary repairs, unexpected discoveries, and more. I rely pretty heavily on routine in Chicago, so it’s an adjustment to give into the rhythm of the boat and the everyday need to make a plan. Mostly it’s good, sometimes it’s tough. A sweet sense of shared surrendering while constantly choosing to make things work out.

The most exciting and beautiful times we've experienced so far come when we sail. They are also the most nerve wrecking with the children. While it's never a good idea to have a little human go overboard, it's especially not a good idea when we are sailing and maneuvering the boat is difficult and slow. So there goes my biggest nightmare. Fear notwithstanding (and with intelligent safety measures in action), Omana sails powerfully and beautifully. I got to be at the helm for the first time today and it was a lovely sensation. Focus and flow and breath. I grew up sailing and my relationship to sailboats is loaded with mixed feelings, but I've always enjoyed connecting to a boat at the helm and today I got to remember why. 

View of Lovango and Mingo Cay with St.Thomas in the background as we sailed back to our mooring off of Caneel Bay on St. John.

We miss both family and friends, and sometimes I wonder about our ambition to be gone through the end of April. But for now, we go on. We are doing well. The children are mostly overjoyed with life on a boat and David and I feel proud and connected.

Drawing of Little Tunny

Ruben:

“The Little Tuny is the smallest species of tuna in the world. That is also why it got its name: little tunny . I got inspired to draw it because when I was six I caught one in the Mediterranean. Here is the drawing that I made with Michelle. She did the first drawing with my help, then I traced it in black and colored it.”

St. John — Great Lameshur Bay, Virgin Islands National Park

A short photo essay with words by David:

Here on Omana it feels like the first day we were able to go out and explore. The 4 of us finally, for the first time, took the dingy for a little cruise and went into the National Park on a short trail through a little forest of cacti and sweet flowering plants, after which we climbed onto some rocks and explored tide pools the whole way back.

Yellow Fin & Fishing

Ruben and Sasha will share on this blog when they feel like it. Maybe David too. This post is dedicated to a proud moment for Ruben. He’d like to share a picture of a yellow fin tuna that he co-created with Michelle.

It took them several hours of research, following a YouTube tutorial, drawing, tracing and coloring. Ruben laminated the yellow fin and it’s now our first picture up on the boat. I hear it’s a good luck charm for our own fishing. 

On the topic of fishing, I’ll also share a photo of the impressive equipment Ruben and Olivier purchased for Omana in Red Hook. 

We’ve already learned that basic hoop sets (literally loops with fishing line attached, they’re at the top of this image in light blue) need to be modified with a better end piece — the leader. Yesterday while sailing we tried fishing and one of our lines came back to us with a missing leader and a small piece of seaweed attached, almost as if the fish had made a swap. Proper leaders are made in tougher materials, like stainless steel, or thick fishing line.

First Week

We left Chicago in the early morning on Wednesday, February 16th, and arrived in the US Virgin Islands at Red Hook Marina on the Island of St. Thomas around 4pm. It has been almost exactly a year since David embarked on the journey of buying and developing the project of our boat. When we got on board, I  shed some tears of joy while getting the kids as cool as possible so they could jump on the trampolines/nets on the bow of the boat. It was surreal leaving frozen puddles of snow and arriving in the heat and rhythm of this part of the world. I'm not sure we've even fully arrived yet.

Our boat is called Omana and we love her. We found her name through David - it's sanksrit, a female name that means kindness and help. We are grateful for whatever help we can get on this adventure. And kindness. But especially help - see below. Omana is a Neel 51, a trimaran, which means there's one main hull with an engine and two smaller "ammas" on the sides. The ammas act as stabilizers depending on the side of the boat we're heeling on. It's the 32nd boat of its kind being built and the concept of a commercial trimaran is not very common. 

We have a wonderful crew with us: Olivier, who is our skipper, and Michelle, an outdoors educator who helps all around between the kids, the boat, and everything that keeps us going. We are deeply grateful for their positive, gentle and intelligent energies. Ruben and Sasha are big fans.

I'm writing at the end of our first week here, after several hours of sailing to test all of the sails and different mechanisms on the boat. Much went well. Some things not so much, like the AC coolant dripping on David's bed. Or the tiny vacuum cleaner that hadn't been secured and kind of exploded next to our cabin. Or bigger deals, like our batteries going dead and our washing machine taking in salt water and pouring it back into the boat. We've been laughing and half crying about these and other challenges. There are many more than what I’ve mentioned above. Olivier has been a star through it all, and since yesterday we’ve been joined by Brian, another experienced and lovely skipper, who has come aboard to help work through things. Ruben and Sasha are loving all the obstacles and handy work that goes into finding the problem and the solution(s) for each one.

This blog won’t be a personal affair, more like a simple way of communicating what’s going on to all of you out there thinking of us and wondering how we are doing. Today I’m feeling quite adventurous, inexperienced, curious, nervous, excited, in disbelief  and in love.