The time I tried to sail across the Atlantic Ocean

I was twenty years old. My small group communication professor Larry Rosenfield had asked us at the beginning of the class to write down something we wanted to do with our lives. I wrote, sail around the world. A few months later he asks me to come into his office, he has some friends who are looking to crew their sailboat trip across the Atlantic. Summertime from North Carolina across to Bermuda, the Azores, Portugal.

My parents drove me down to meet the captain and his wife. A slightly wacky couple who owned a 40’ sailboat, the Dollybird. My father had no faith in the captain but the boat was seaworthy and we agreed I would come down at the end of the school year and for free room and board would help them prep the boat and sail across, a three week jaunt.

It’s important to mention here that I had Zero sailing experience.

But no matter.

I spent several weeks living with the couple on the boat in the marina in New Bern, NC, mostly scrubbing things, shopping for supplies and feeding the visiting sea turtles saltines. I soon learned that my job was actually galley wench and all I’d be expected to do was cook and clean. Sailing work was for the men. We were joined by another novice crew member, Phillip from Australia. He knew somebody who knew someone and there he was. No sailing experience either but he was big and a man.

We got underway on a sunny morning cruising through the channels til we made it to the open ocean. We hoisted sail and took off. First up, was the sea sickness, unexpected and horrible. By the time we sailed to the Gulf Stream two of us were completely knocked out throwing up sick. I had no idea it would be so awful. But it was. And all I really remember of the crossing was the giant waves and our little boat feeling like it was being tossed from one to the next.

By the time I was able to come above board the captain and crew of one were exhausted. I was put on duty and told to keep the wheel steady. I had never steered a boat before and here it was middle of the night and I was told to hold the wheel steady. It was fairly stressful.

The next day was pretty uneventful, mostly cleaning up. We had lost some supplies in the crossing that weren’t tied down properly and taken on more water than we expected. That night I was told again that I would have the night watch. I asked aloud when I’d be sleeping and was told that I should sleep when I’m not on watch. Or cooking. Or cleaning.

That night I sat on watch with Phillip and we watched as our little boat sailed past two huge container ships, which felt incredibly scary and vast with the dark sky above and black sea below and I couldn’t fathom what might be below us and started to freak out just a little bit about the size and magnitude of my small self.

The next day the touchy digital navigation system went down. Our captain was exhausted. Overwhelmed by having hired a crew with no experience and his short fuse. And next thing I know I’m told we’re turning around and heading back home.

It took us a few days, where mostly we all didn’t say much to each other, just lots of taking turns on deck. We crossed back over the Gulf Stream, much more uneventful this time.

I remember our captain saying to us that he couldn’t find America. Maybe it was gone. One week at sea and America was already gone? I slowly started to realize how reckless our trip might have been. How maybe desire to do something and the ability to do it are two different things.

We finally found America when we accidentally sailed into protected naval waters and got a surprise naval escort back to the closest marina.

Which was better than being arrested.

Our captain was less than generous with getting me and Phillip off the boat and out of his life. He gave us $20 each and sent us on the way. We debarked on a barrier island with no public transportation or car service. We were told it would be about a four hour walk off the island and from there we could call a cab to get us to the nearest bus station.

After not having slept for over a week, surviving seasickness and now carrying everything I owned on my back, wet and salty, with $20 to my name, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. But Phillip talked me through the long walk and we pooled our money and called a taxi to take us to the closest bus station. Where we said good bye and I never heard from any of them again.

From there I took a bus to Atlanta and then another bus to visit family in Mississippi. And I can tell you, I’ve never been so tired as I was when my aunt picked me up and brought me back to her home where I had my first shower since I’d cleaned up the throw up off myself. And while I thought I’d be half way to Portugal by that point, I was grateful to have made it out alive with a good story.