How to Get Your Land Legs - Coming Home After a Year at Sea
February 2, 2020By Michelle Segrest — Travel Adventures from #myofficetodayGulf Shores, Alabama, USA
Sometimes I lie in bed and can still feel the rocking and rolling motion of the sea. I can smell the salt air, and I can feel the cold wind on my face. I can hear the waves. I close my eyes and with vivid accuracy I can see the brilliant colors of each sunset. I don’t just remember the uncomfortable queasiness of seasickness—I can still feel it. I think of the Bay of Biscay, and I have a physical reaction. My tummy contracts, and I remember what I went through to get to the other side. At the same time, I beam with pride and remember the sheer relief and satisfaction I felt when land was in sight.
All the memories of a year at sea—both good and bad—left their imprint on my senses.
The transition back to land life has not been easy.
It’s been painful. It began with a serious surgery that required several months of tough recovery and thousands of dollars I didn’t have and that my cheap international insurance would not cover.
It’s been hard work. The year at sea left my business and finances in disrepair.
It’s been emotional. A six-year relationship that was never without drama and heartache but was happy and adventurous at times came to an end. Loyal to a fault, my efforts to repair all that was broken for so many years just weren’t enough.
It’s been difficult. Intense therapy has been required to help me recover from the loss of my health, my business, my identity, and my personal relationship.
It’s been lonely at times. I have often been unable to leave the house for days. I was so accustomed to seclusion I have struggled to learn how to be around people again. I didn’t have my beagles—Cap’n Jack & Scout—with me to provide an excuse to leave the house. At times, I’ve felt captive in my own home just as sometimes I felt captive aboard Seefalke.
The scars will be with me forever, along with the good memories. Although it’s only been five months, I believe now more than ever that time does heal all wounds.
With time, I’ve been able to rebuild my business.
With time (and with open-enrollment insurance options), I’ve been able to regain my health, although I still have several procedures in my near future to repair some of the neglected injuries and illnesses endured at sea.
With time, I’ve been able to re-enter society and civilization and have re-learned how to apply makeup, and fix my hair, and use appliances, and drive a car, and be social.
With time, I’ve regained the confidence and self-esteem that was slowly stripped from me for so many years.
With time, I’ve been able to re-establish relationships with family and friends. I know I’ll never again take for granted something as precious as the time you spend with the people you love.
Some things have been easy.
Cap’n Jack & Scout have only been home for a couple weeks, but on Day 1 they remembered their former routine. They remembered their neighborhood and their home. I thought I would have to retrain puppies again, but they remembered their potty training and have had no accidents. It’s as if they were only gone a few days.
My clients and business associates have embraced my return and trusted me with projects. I am confident with my professional abilities and talents, and I’m working on personal writing projects I have wanted to tackle for years. I’ve never felt so inspired to work and write.
I’m remembering what it’s like to be truly loved and cared for—thanks to loyal friends, loving family, and a special new relationship with an amazing man who has been by my side through some very difficult and often uncomfortable times.
It’s been a year since I set sail from Mindelo, São Vicente, Cape Verde, Africa for an Atlantic Ocean crossing, and it’s been 159 days since I left the broiling heat of Domburg, Suriname, South America to return to Sweet Home Alabama. And while each of those days has provided severe ups and downs, I will always treasure what was accomplished during the year at sea.
My year-long, worldwide sailing journey taught me many things about myself.
First, I learned that can I live without a lot. I can live without air conditioning or ice in stifling 100-plus degree heat. I can live without refrigeration or a proper shower or a comfy bed. I can survive in a very small space with no microwave or coffee maker or hair dryer. I can live in solitude and survive without internet or television or conversation. I can manufacture creative rigs and fix things when they break. I can walk sideways and cook on a moving boat while heeling on a 30-degree tilt. I can help to maintain systems while underway and swim to the bottom of a huge steel boat without diving gear or a mask and scrape sharp barnacles for two days in debilitating heat.
I learned that men don’t change and some men simply do not have the capacity to be true to only one woman. I finally learned that this is not ok. I learned that you can sacrifice everything you know and love to give someone their lifelong dream, but it still may not be enough to make them love you, respect you, honor you, or cherish you. That has perhaps been the hardest lesson of all. However, it’s also taught me that you can find your confidence and self-esteem even when it’s buried deep beneath a blanket of misconception and manipulation.
But most important, I learned that the mind is stronger than the body. I can challenge myself and fight physical, mental, and emotional obstacles to accomplish things I never thought possible. I can fight gut-wrenching seasickness and stay on watch. I can battle fear and sail at night in heavy traffic. I can withstand severe heat stroke, severe exhaustion, and severe loneliness and isolation and come out clean on the other side.
I battled the Baltic Sea and made a non-stop passage across the North Sea. I sailed through the English Channel. I battled severe seasickness, exhaustion, and dehydration for four straight days while sailing through the infamous Bay of Biscay. I sailed along the coast of Spain and Portugal and had an eye-to-eye encounter with a friendly whale. I checked Casablanca off my bucket list and saw Africa for the first time. I sailed to the Canary Islands and explored Cape Verde and other remote places I’d never even heard of before this voyage. I traveled to South America for the first time and experienced many beautiful and unique cultures around the world. I made friends with other sailors whose stories continue to inspire me. I sailed across the Equator twice.
I crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a sailboat!
I didn’t do any of these things alone, but I did it.
Even if photos and videos are removed from existence, it doesn’t change the fact that this voyage happened, or that I was an integral part of it. I never missed a sailing shift or night watch. I organized and planned. I cleaned and cooked and cared for two Seadogs and carried a significant chunk of the financial burden. I stayed alone on the boat with the dogs 12 times while my captain enjoyed time with friends and family and civilization and was able to work. One of those times I did it with a broken foot, and another time while bleeding and in torturous pain.
I overcame these and other challenges for 7,194 nautical miles over the course of 372 days, and just like the beautiful memories of gorgeous beaches and fascinating people, I’ll never let anyone take any of that away from me. I will continue to share more details of the battles, the experiences, and the amazing destinations.
While this worldwide sailing journey is over for me, my experiences, the scars, and the memories will live forever in my heart, my soul, and on the worldwide web.
I am not and never was a nameless first mate or simply a passenger on board. I am a sailor. I have the significant contributions, the experiences, the nautical miles, and the scars to prove it. I will not stop sailing or traveling or seeking adventure.
I am a writer. I will not stop writing about my experiences, and I will continue to share them.
My friends and neighbors, Mike and Lynn Jordan, gave me this keychain for my 50th birthday a few years ago. It includes part of my favorite quote from William Ernest Henley, “I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.” And it includes the coordinates to my home in Gulf Shores. They told me this way I would always find my way home.
This year-long sailing journey changed me. It changed me for the better. But the months back on land have also changed me for the better. I am now a much stronger person—physically, mentally, and emotionally. For the first time in a very long time, I am happy. I am happy on my own terms, in my own environment, and in my own skin.
Life is good.
Finally, I know what it feels like to truly be the master of my fate and the captain of my soul.
Click Here to Read About My Amazing Year at Sea
If you like this article, PIN IT!
