stars – On the Horizon Line

A Tough Blow

We’re back in paradise. It disappeared for a week, swept away in fierce winds and soggy clouds. Now it feels like French Polynesia again: warm, silky, easy. As I write, the handle of the Big Dipper dives straight into the horizon. Venus illuminates a bright path on the water above the glow from the set sun. And the Southern Cross, pushed by her two bright pointer stars, arcs over the still marina here in Raiatea.

The last week was pretty rough. We had 30 knots of sustained wind, chop, rain, dark clouds, driving gusts. It’s the kind of rough that flips dinghies upside-down, makes the mast squeal like a banshee, sends people diving for cover, and traps boats in semi-protected lagoons.

You can’t sleep through that, with halyards banging, straps flapping, the hull groaning. Or swim through the murky water and ripping current. Or sail away to a new spot. Or go visit the nearby boats. You wonder if the anchor will hold, and if the anchor on the boat in front of you will hold. You wonder why the hell you’re stuck on a tiny boat in a big blow, relying on a long chain and lead weight to keep you from careening off into the ocean or into sharp reef rocks.

Then the sky clears. One night, the winds suddenly calm. Everyone looks around, wondering what the new noise is — it’s the forgotten sound of quiet. Today, we’re enjoying the reprieve. The storm receded and the fresh clean sulight baptized everything in a glory veil. These green mountains are blindingly sharp. The fish seem happier. The afternoon heat is a blessing. Speeding across the lagoon to visit neighbors makes you laugh aloud.

Today was my version of a perfect day in the cruising life. Ironically, it wasn’t so different from many past, but the end of the big blow made everything shinier. How simple it is, my perception of perfection. A morning yoga circle with new friends. Dancing alone, free, spinning to my own choreography. Clean hair. A swim to say hi to the parrotfish. Fresh-baked carrot bread. Singing songs at sunset. Coffee on one boat, cocktails on another. My husband’s hand on my back. My laughter loud. The men cooking. Stars again.

Just like all life, there’s good days and bad while cruising. Stormy ones and sunny. Monotonous hours interspersed with magical moments. The difference out here, though, is that the cycle is so damn fast. The pendulum between good and tough rocks rapid-fire, marking time in minutes rather than months. Maybe the swing between good and tough just feels so fast, so bipolar, because our lives depend daily on the wind, the currents, the rain, the sun. We feel their shifts more vicerally.

It’s like that first day of spring in Montana. I learned to appreciate the bitter northern winters for the spring they usher in. Tonight, I’m thanking the gods for the calm that comes in like an exhale on the coattails of the departing winds. I revel in the quiet and the still, the sharp and bright stars, appreciating them all the more after their absence. And I suppose I’ll appreciate the next blow, too, since it makes paradise that much more vibrant in the end.

chinese lantern wishes in baja california - on the horizon line sailing blog

Family and Friends, Reflections on Life

The Curse of the Chinese Lantern

The first five days of our trip were magical. Easy. Simple. Relaxing. Good people in a gorgeous spot, with few hassles and lots of laughter. We felt blessed.

So, on the fourth night with our current tribe of saltwater-loving friends on the beach in Pescadero, Baja California, we made a feast to celebrate the sun-filled joy. We barbecued over a wheelbarrow fire, played Yahtzee, told stories. And then we decided to light off a Chinese sky lantern to send our wishes to the heavens. These ancient floating orbs are like mini helium balloons, with a big paper body surrounding a little fire that lifts the lantern high into the night sky. Chinese holidays and celebrations often feature a lantern lift-off, a tradition reminiscent of blowing out birthday candles in the U.S.

After making sure the wind was right, we each made a wish and took pictures (not these, though, due to subsequent events) as the three-foot lantern ascended toward the stars. It started off slowly toward the north, then veered south at a fast clip as it hit winds in the stratosphere. The closer it got to the heavens, the more it looked like a star of its own. Then it faded out.

The next morning, the corpse of the blue lantern was in our driveway, about 30 feet from where we lit it off. The six of us looked at each other in complete confusion, and discussed the improbability — impossibility, almost — of the lantern landing back where it started, especially since we’d watched it cruise so far south. Bizarre, we agreed. Borderline creepy. We decided it must be good luck, because it made us feel better about the improbable return of our wishes.

Turns out, it wasn’t good luck. The very next morning, we awoke to find a trifecta of a shit-storm had descended upon our happy tribe: $3,500+ of our electronics were stolen, Katie had horrible food poisoning, and Alan and Bequia’s 16-year-old dog seemed to be heading to the heavens herself. We weathered the storms, said our goodbyes, and drove to La Paz to stay on Mark and Katie’s boat for the night. Our exhaustion had us leaving much of our gear in the car outside the marina, and heading immediately to bed. We awoke to find the shit-storm still in full swing: Katie and Mark’s car stolen, along with all of the gear inside.

Again, it seems improbable — impossible even — to have that much bad karma in a 24-hour period. The only plausible explanation is that we were cursed by the Chinese sky lantern. You’re not supposed to see your wishes return to earth when you’ve explicitly bequeathed them to the stars. Our wishes spiraled in reverse and exploded in our faces for a brief but intense reality-check.

Now for the good news: our friend Brandon gave us a kata before we left Missoula, blessed by Tibetan lamas. We broke it out last night and hung it from the boom to fight off the curse. It seems to be working. Katie and Mark will likely get insurance for the stolen goods, and already have offers of potential rides back to the States. Rob and I got an offer to go sailing for the next few days to nearby islands with a couple anchored here in La Paz.

The moral of the story? Be careful what you wish for, and always check the winds twice.