This is likely the last post for a month or few. Read Arlo and Caitlin’s thoughts on returning to California and check out all the pix (and a video!) that we finally have the internet to upload.
From ARLO:
Well, we’re back. Coming back to Alameda itself wasn’t such a shock. We had spent three weeks in Hawaii adjusting to Western culture, and then another week on the East Coast before returning home. And now that we are back, we have easy access to many things we didn’t have on the boat, such as wifi, refrigeration, burritos, bagels and more. And I am very relieved to have all of those items back.
But I have been noticing some things I am missing too: less stressful days, a less intense schedule, and there’s more stuff happening to make my life busier and more complicated. I have also been missing all the fishing that we did on the boat. Living on the boat gave us lots of fruit and lots of fun. I gained the confidence to stand a watch alone, to talk with strangers in languages I’m not very good at, to swim with sharks, to try new foods, and to appreciate other ways of living. I have many friends that I like in Alameda, and I would miss them if I weren’t living here, but I find that on the boat, in an environment with fewer friends, I am happy as well.
I feel like the choice of where to spend my high school years could use some more thought. There are still some questions that I would like to think more about before I commit fully to one place or another. What about friends? What about school? Could I learn what I need to learn in high school on the boat? I just know for sure that life on the boat is appealing in a lot of different ways, and that I am going to be excited to go back there in the spring.
———————————————————–
And from Caitlin:
In mid-January the four of us walked toward our gate at the Honolulu International Airport, quiet mostly. We’d just left Debonair after a year aboard, and we were sad. Alma piped up, “Debonair feels more like home than our house does.”
We have had mixed feelings about going “home.” Watching an evening sky a few months ago, I told Jason that if the only thing we took from this voyage was seeing as much sea and sky as we saw this year, the voyage would have been worth it. But there’s so much more. Observing sea and sky was just the beginning of the year we spent watching and seeing the natural world around us.
There are the people we met–the other cruising families, the voyagers we met who were older or younger than we are–and how often at home do we have such mixed-age friendships? The sailors we met–from so many countries–were all people who took the initiative to make the life they wanted. They were good and interesting people, as were the many Mexicans and Polynesians whose graciousness and enthusiasm made our year so rich. Our friends on Ua Pou, and Nuku Hiva and Huahine are people we will carry in our hearts even if we don’t see them again. And you never know.
Of course, there is our ever growing love for Debonair–for it was beautiful Debonair who kept us safe across oceans and gave us a home in amazing places. She doesn’t maneuver well in tight spaces, but she sails like a freight train. She taught us so much about sailing. So little broke, so much of our planning was right, there are so few things about her we would want to change.
A beautiful South Pacific day as we approach the equator heading north. 
Sailing on the lagoon in Fakarava. 
Caitlin cleans the bottom for a speedy passage to Nuku Hiva. 
Jason went up the mast to check the rig. 
Everything on DEBO is strong. We had these 1/2″ Lexan storm windows made up just before we left California. (Thanks for weighing in on that one JT and Joel!) 
We installed these job sheet winches on new winch pads made by our friend Josh before we left. We used them every time we sailed. 
Everything on DEBONAIR is strong. This bronze chain plate we installed, one of 14. Connecting the shrouds to the hull, the chain plates are critical links in the rig that holds up the masts. 
Bungs. Thanks to friends for getting us these little teak plugs for Jason to install in the deck. It’s all about keeping the boat watertight. 
DEBONAIR is strong. This is the 77lb Spade anchor we used every time we anchored. With 300′ of chain, it held in big wind. Note the stainless and bronze on the caprail to protect it from the chain. 
JT on watch as we take our departure from Nuku Hiva.
But really the point of this year wasn’t to become better sailors, to meet other people or see cool places or even to watch the sky. It was to become more who we are by voyaging under sail . . . .through meeting interesting people, by seeing remote places and watching the sea. It was about finding space for each of us to grow and for us to grow together. We were scared sometimes and frustrated sometimes, but we were never overbooked, and we were never a family leading four separate lives. Everything we had to do–checking the anchor before bed, researching the next island group, making bread, varnishing the caprail–had a direct impact on someone we loved and so life was truly less complex than on land.
Despite living in 40′, we had room to stretch, and we stretched. The personal growth was most evident, I think, in Arlo and Alma–for each of them, the challenges this year became a real coming of age. But Jason and I have also learned so much. We’ve seen the sea and the sky, but also each other and I’ve come to appreciate the members of my family anew. Arlo’s focus, generosity and sense of humor, Alma’s lovingness, ability to learn and meticulousness, Jason’s curiosity, competence and capacity to love.
Three weeks home now, we are being cautious. We appreciate the warm welcome from neighbors and friends and family as we make the adjustment to more separate lives, to cell phones, to living in this consumer world. It’s not that we don’t like the lives we can live back home, but we’re reminded of the effort it can take to live here with integrity.
We sailed out the Golden Gate with ti leaves given to us by our friend Carter–a few were hanging on when we arrived in Hawaii where we were given this beautiful ti leaf lei.
This is me at Farmland Foods in Honolulu. Is this for real?
We just ordered the Coast Pilot for Alaska. Come May, Debonair will set sail again, bound from Hawaii for someplace north of 60*N, possibly Kodiak Island, and we’ll spend the summer there. We look forward to “a year and a day” becoming “a year and a day and a summer and maybe some more summers after that.” Thank you again for the ways you’ve sailed with us in our adventures. We’ll keep you posted once we’re back aboard.
For now, we leave you with a few final pics of the lovely DEBONAIR, from the last couple months of the voyage and from re-entry —
