Photo art by Anika Tizliarishvili
I suppose that when most people imagine leaving everything behind and sailing off into the sunset they think of basking in the warm sun, a refreshing, steady breeze passing over you, and the smell of the ocean.
And granted all that is pretty darn nice, but for my money, nothing beats being on a sailboat at night.
When you are in an almost empty anchorage and the wind has dropped, you can lay on the deck and see the stars in all their glory and in that stillness, you really get the sense that you are just a tiny bit of a great universe. Worries tend to shrivel when you’re on your back, watching for satellites and trying to pick out the constellations.
Sound carries very well over water. When there is little breeze you can hear the call of a far away sea bird or a fish jumping, then silence. It is lovely.
One of our most memorable nights on the boat was when we were anchored in Two Harbors on Catalina Island. We were on the western side of the island, and the tourist season had ended so there were only a few boats anchored in a huge bay.
In the picture below you can see both harbors, we were anchored on the far side of the isthmus, in two harbors.
The Iowa Waltz in Two Harbors
One evening Rebecka and I decided to row our dinghy toward the mouth of the harbor, and then let the gentle westerly breeze slowly help us ghost back to our sailboat. As we drifted, we sat back, looking up at the stars and then suddenly, from one of the boats, orchestral music came wafting across the bay. When the overture ended, a man on the boat began singing opera in Italian and it was an absolutely transcendent moment.
The stars, the gentle lapping of the water, the ethereal music, and Rebecka, I don’t think I have had a more perfect moment in my life.
Out for Justice 