Overcome a Fear of Sailing

I, a first-born, cautious daughter married Ryan, a third-born, adventurous son. My parents' first child jitters led to nervous tendencies influencing my apprehensiveness to do anything remotely dangerous. Ryan's parents numb by the time of his arrival fostered a less guarded environment.

Despite opposing innate traits, curiosity unites us. Every year, we pick at least two different locations to visit. We relish eating regional foods and meeting different people. Having always traveled by air or road, Ryan's suggestion to travel by sea intrigued me because I love water.

Then, I stepped foot on his quaint 21' day cruiser and began to fret about the gleeful expression spanning his entire face. "This is the perfect starter boat," he beamed. "First..." Ryan began, but my mind drifted.

Deep down to my itty-bitty baby toe the thought that we may use this vessel as a means of transportation frightened me. I did not know how to sail. Ryan did not know how to sail. My classification of the activity as dangerous did not deter him. We headed off into the Long Island Sound. It was April.

"Now is the perfect time to try this because there are no other boats in the water," Ryan reassured me.

"Perfect. If we fall into this frigid mass, no one will be around to save us from hypothermia," I mumbled.

Returning frazzled from our first one-hour voyage, an old salt stood by to help us dock. "You remind me of my wife and I when we first started sailing about 50 years ago," he said.

Our first season was filled with veteran, male sailors reminiscing about their starter boats. They inspired Ryan, but I thought - where are the women?

Ryan took sailing lessons, practiced, and far surpassed any skill I had to offer to this preparatory venture. I happily engaged in napping aboard and cleaning and organizing the boat.

Finding myself out of work recently, I decided now was the time to learn to sail. I booked a weeklong live aboard sailing class out of Fort Lauderdale. By myself, I flew down the night before, read all the materials, and boarded the boat the next afternoon.

On board, I met two other women who arrived solo and a younger man also alone. The Captain kept reminding all of us the class was BASIC and the trip would be "Nice, huh?"

Yes, I read and understood that the class was basic. Great, if I fail this, our sailing dream is over for this is the basic stuff. I spent the entire first day seasick and nauseas pondering the Captain's words, "Basic - nice, huh?" I may now throw up in front of these strangers.

Rocking back and forth that night at anchor, I felt awful. I promised to never sail again.

The next day a beautiful sunrise peeked out from behind our anchorage. Dolphin fed on schools of fish. My body adjusted to the additional smells, movements, and tasks. There were no everyday distractions. All my senses were heightened to the nature surrounding me. It was peaceful.

By the third day, all was going smoothly in spite of 30-knot winds. I valued the routine and processes involved in sailing a 43-foot boat. The simplicity of being on board in a confined space comforted me. By the end of the week, my comrades were itching for space and a change of scenery, but I content was sad to leave.

"Now is the time," I told Ryan.

We sold the 21' day cruiser and we hope to find a larger boat that will serve as a better cruising vessel.