Memories that shouldn't be lost

*reposted from June 9, 2009*

A few months ago my brother wrote a beautiful note about what Wanderlust meant to him. My mum asked me to do the same. I’ve come back to the same blank page guilt ridden several times since then unable to pen the emotion that is captured in 52 feet of fibreglass, stainless steel and canvas.


Today Mum called me at work to let me know that the offer on Wanderlust had finally closed and she was sold. As I sat at my desk, I initially though “that’s good”...and then unexpectedly the tears began to pour down my face as sobs rose in my chest. Fortunately she called on my cell phone so I bolted outside leaving Shelley and Mel behind probably wondering who had died...

When I returned somewhat more composed, they were standing with inquisitive looks and all I could say is “this will sound silly...but the boat sold” and I burst into tears again.

What I realized is that in some strange way...something did die today. I am grieving the loss of a lifelong love (and sometimes hate?) relationship.

My first memory of Wanderlust was carrying a loaf pan sized brick of lead up a mile high staircase to the deck of Wanderlust. I would lift it one step and then climb one step. I would pick it up and move it one more. You see, I was five and a loaf pan of lead is pretty heavy and the steps were pretty high for 5 year old me. I fell down them at least once. I also got paid by the bucket to pick bits of lead out of the gravel where the unwitting delivery driver dumped the scrap, much to my dad’s chagrin. That I remember too. I don’t think much of this was fond memories, just memories – I was five and had no idea. I wouldn’t come to appreciate the fibreglass whale in our backyard until nearly a decade later.

When I say backyard, I mean many backyards and shops, and aircraft hangers. Wanderlust travelled more over land than possibly any sailboat EVER. She moved from Ottawa to Greenwood, Nova Scotia to Richmond...with a move or two at each place. My mum is a journal person and could tell you how many miles she travelled by land and also how many years it was before we equalled her land travel by sea!

I’m pretty sure we missed out on some stuff as kids because of the money poured into Wanderlust, but then again, it’s all relative. I didn’t know what I was missing, after all I had a boat. Boats are cool. She was my constant. With a dad who was an airforce major, moving was par for the course, but we had something that stayed the same. Wanderlust. The dream followed us, even when everything we had crumbled: finances, relationships, health, security...somehow she survived.

Not only did she survive she thrived. She became my Dad’s masterpiece. She was unique – but not weird....she was classy and beautiful.

She had tanbark sails like the ships of old...merged with exquisitely beautiful lines. She is absolutely striking. Marine photographers would circle us snapping photos that wound up on the cover of Pacific Yachting. My dad would beam and wave.

She showed off my Dad’s pride in his country with an unusual sail called a main back staysail (typically/crassly called a “Mule”) not just emblazoned with a mapleleaf, she was a sail AND a full Canadian flag nearly 30 feet on the luff...I didn’t know why, but when we sailed her to other countries I was proud to say I was Canadian because my dad was. Now I AM proud to be a Canadian and have lots of reasons why. But that’s where it started – with a giant sail aboard Wanderlust. If that wasn’t enough, she had a six foot flag off the stern, in case anyone questioned our patriotism or her beauty!

So at the beginning I said it was a love-hate relationship. That may not make sense to those of you who have heard me talk about her or witnessed me sobbing at the thought of saying goodbye...but I did. My family (Mum, Dad, Brother...even my dog!) were born sailors...the rougher the weather or the tougher the challenge the happier they were. Me: I got seasick. Not a little bit, a lot. To this day most breakfast foods turn my stomach because on passages I would wake up to the smell of “insert name of breakfast food” and bolt outside to recover from waves of nausea as my body adjusted to my eyes being open and not agreeing with my inner ear. My family joked that from the time I was a baby that I’d be asleep before we hit the breakwater – it was true (and still is) sleep gave me a reprieve from nausea, and it also became one of the gifts Wanderlust gave me....solitude. I would turn on a walkman or curl up with my dog and drift away. Albeit I had abandoned my family for the comfort of my bunk – the only other option was gravol which in those days didn’t exist in “non-drowsy” format...either way I’d fall asleep.

We grew to understand each other on this level though. I would sleep for an hour or two until we were out of the chop of the river, and then wake as the engine shut off...often just in time to enjoy the satisfaction of hoisting the mizzen (and as I grew older and stronger the main) sail and feeling something so powerful -- it could only be God -- harnessed by my own hands. Once I was up and things were steadier life was good.

Things I learned from her...

• Though I know many creative women, I am one of the few women I know who has a passionate love affair with building, creating and using power tools. I feel like I can fix stuff, and make anything out of anything and whenever possible I have to do it in a beautiful way...whether it’s a fence or a mosaic mirror... my Dad taught me through Wanderlust the value of doing something with your hands that you can be proud of. He never cared that I was a girl, he taught me to use a router, to make a perfect mitre, to set a nail and how to polish brass. He taught me to tie every knot known to man and which one to use for which purpose, he taught me to make a turks head and how to perfectly splice a line, skills I thought would fill the hours of boredom on passages...little did I know they would last a lifetime.

• I learned that faithful perseverance and hard work pays off – I watched my family struggle, even suffer to create a masterpiece, it was not a quick fix, she took most of my young life to build...and she was worth every minute and every single drop of blood, sweat and tears (and there was much of all of the above!!)

• I learned that not everyone lives in the suburbs and drives a minivan...in Mexico, I met a couple who changed me...he was a famous jazz trumpet player I’d never heard of and she was a hot shot lawyer from LA...they left it all to sail the world on a 22 foot boat that was “BYOB” (bring your own bucket...there was no indoor plumbing). They were the most joyful, real people I’d ever met, and I was the first person he’d played his trumpet for other than Lynn, I felt special...it was AMAZING. They became my "fairy godparents" and somehow made a 13 year old girl feel like the most important person in their world and kept in touch for years. I wish I could find them again and thank them. Something about them defined a part of my worth at a time in my life when I was questioning it. I also met kids who had nothing and not only didn’t care that they had nothing, were completely unaware of the concept of having anything OTHER than nothing. I gave one of them named Manie a Canada T-shirt one day, at the end of the day he gave it back because he didn’t understand about receiving gifts. He gave me one that day: everyone should meet friends like that when they are 13.

• Wanderlust taught me to be kind to mother nature...someday I want to anchor in a tranquil bay with my kids or grandkids and take them swimming with dolphins – I want them to experience playing with a wild animal that is as curious about them as they are about it. I want to walk with them on a beach and show them sand dollars bigger than their hand and snorkel with real rainbow fish (not the cartoon one). I want them to experience the terror and awe of swimming as fast as they can away from a blue whale who means them no harm but is less than convincing because she is the largest mammal on earth and they weigh a mere 100 lbs... she’s only 120 tons...what’s the big deal. I want those experiences to still exist...outside of a theme park or all inclusive resort thank you very much.

• She taught me to laugh and play when it was light out and sleep when it got dark. Lights and electricity mess us up. I am typing this at 10:32 at night with no lights but the monitor...if I were aboard Wanderlust I’d have gone to bed over an hour ago and in the morning I’d be rested. I’d be happier if I lived that way.

Most importantly, Wanderlust taught me about who my Dad was and who, hopefully someday, I will become. He was a man of character, perseverance, individuality, and passion...all of the things that he embodied he invested in Wanderlust and between the two of them they invested in me...

I lost him four years ago last month...but whenever I wanted to feel close to him, I could get in my car and drive to Ladner...she was there waiting faithfully and as I stepped aboard anything I touched had been touched by his hands...made by his hands. The interior brought back memories of being wrapped in his giant (and famous) bear hugs...he smelled like boat (or boat smelled like him?) either way the sweet smell of salt air, teak oil, with a touch of diesel and fantastic thrown in for good measure brings back memories of loving him...and being loved.

I lived in 10 different houses before I left “home” at 19 (8 of them before I hit my teens)...but somehow Wanderlust is really the only place I’ve ever really called home...

Mom said today that she wished Dad was here so she could talk to him about the decision, but realized if he were here there would be no decision to make. They would be sailing. Without a doubt. But I believe he is smiling today, because someone is about to begin their story with Wanderlust....and are only just beginning their adventure. There were many things my dad was passionate about but one of them was equipping dreamers to go offshore...well Dad, you just did in the biggest way you ever have. It’s amazing to think that they love her like we do, but they do...she is in good hands of that I am sure...and they are in good hands being taken on their journey from the safe refuge of Wanderlust.

I miss him. I will miss her...

May both of you find fair winds, following seas and sweet serene puggy holes wherever you are...

A Ship in Harbour is Safe...but that's not what ships are for....