It was a little after seven PM when we knew it for sure. We were sitting in our cockpit eating dinner when we saw the silhouette of two vessels entering the harbor, the first was a large vessel with a dark hull, the second, close behind, was a relatively small vessel with a light colored hull. Could this be them? We had been keeping an ear to the radio and an eye on the harbor cut all day in anticipation of their arrival. To our elation the two masts and distinctive lines of The Right’s of Man soon became visible. We immediately tried to raise them on the VHF radio. When that failed we jumped in our dinghy in spite of the darkness, good size waves and strong wind. It was them, really them and they were finally safe in the harbor. A large wave had smashed into their rudder while they were hove-to, destroying their steering quadrant, leaving them without steerage. Because of that they had to be towed 220 nm and Tenacious, a gorgeous 120’ sloop offered to assist - an act of great kindness and no doubt, superior seamanship. The activities of transferring the tow from Tenacious and to a private towboat for docking occurred in the open waters of the harbor. We circled in the darkness eagerly trying to catch a glimpse of the familiar faces of our dear friends. Several Yacht Services employees aboard Right’s of Man assisting the disabled vessel to a secure tie up along the wharf, all were dressed in fowl-weather gear making it hard to identify anyone.
We tied up our dinghy and made our way up the quay to them. The excitement of all the activity was palpable. Several passers-by stopped to watch and question. It had been a successful effort by all involved to bring this vessel safely home. We stayed out of the way but with our attention focused on giving our greetings to Jack and Marcia. Once the lines were secure and the activity calmed I caught Jack’s glance; he seemed very pleased to see a familiar face. Marcia reached way out with both hands for a hug but because of the great height of the dock, the best we could manage was a double handclasp. True to the Fyfe’s manner they gracefully completed the custom’s process from the jostling of their deck as the customs & immigration officers, under the illumination of Dan’s headlamp, sat on the wharf and carried on their business with courtesy and playfulness. They don’t often go to a vessel but in this case they made an exception to accommodate. When immigrations ask where they were headed next Jack replied “St. Martins”. “What port sir?” “Whatever port will tow us in”, Jack shot back with a big smile on his face and a giggle, “That’s the usual way we make our entrance”.
It was a huge relief to hear Jack’s answer and to see their smiling faces. It meant they were not beaten, strongly tested, but not beaten. They had endured a rough ten-day passage, double the usual crossing time. Marcia said that as bad as the storm was that incapacitated them, it was the two days under tow that was hardest to endure. Constantly accelerating down the faces of large waves, then slamming into the backs of the next wave before being pulled through and starting the whole jarring process again; thousands of times over. Any voyage out on the open ocean is a tenuous thing and something this damaging could easily be a trip-ender. Lesser setbacks have ended grander plans. We were hugely relived to see and hear evidence that this wasn’t going to be the case for our friends. Their determination remained undaunted, perhaps even bolstered by the experience; they will sail on.
The previous day Dan and I had a heartfelt discussion about how we might have held up in such an ordeal. How would such a misfortune affect us? What would we do if Gypsy were lost? It could happen. How would that affect our adventurous spirit? Would we continue on? It’s hard to say but my gut reaction is that we’d go on, get another boat and somehow continue our adventure. At the same time that’s an easy answer to come up with when we’re snug on the hook in a safe harbor well out of harms way. We both agreed that making the break with our conventional lifestyles was probably our biggest hurtle and that somehow we will deal with what comes our way when it comes our way.
In the mean time we’ll continue to sort out our own boat problems and at the same time spend quality time with our friends before our ways part again; them for St. Martin and us to the Dominican Republic.
We tied up our dinghy and made our way up the quay to them. The excitement of all the activity was palpable. Several passers-by stopped to watch and question. It had been a successful effort by all involved to bring this vessel safely home. We stayed out of the way but with our attention focused on giving our greetings to Jack and Marcia. Once the lines were secure and the activity calmed I caught Jack’s glance; he seemed very pleased to see a familiar face. Marcia reached way out with both hands for a hug but because of the great height of the dock, the best we could manage was a double handclasp. True to the Fyfe’s manner they gracefully completed the custom’s process from the jostling of their deck as the customs & immigration officers, under the illumination of Dan’s headlamp, sat on the wharf and carried on their business with courtesy and playfulness. They don’t often go to a vessel but in this case they made an exception to accommodate. When immigrations ask where they were headed next Jack replied “St. Martins”. “What port sir?” “Whatever port will tow us in”, Jack shot back with a big smile on his face and a giggle, “That’s the usual way we make our entrance”.
It was a huge relief to hear Jack’s answer and to see their smiling faces. It meant they were not beaten, strongly tested, but not beaten. They had endured a rough ten-day passage, double the usual crossing time. Marcia said that as bad as the storm was that incapacitated them, it was the two days under tow that was hardest to endure. Constantly accelerating down the faces of large waves, then slamming into the backs of the next wave before being pulled through and starting the whole jarring process again; thousands of times over. Any voyage out on the open ocean is a tenuous thing and something this damaging could easily be a trip-ender. Lesser setbacks have ended grander plans. We were hugely relived to see and hear evidence that this wasn’t going to be the case for our friends. Their determination remained undaunted, perhaps even bolstered by the experience; they will sail on.
The previous day Dan and I had a heartfelt discussion about how we might have held up in such an ordeal. How would such a misfortune affect us? What would we do if Gypsy were lost? It could happen. How would that affect our adventurous spirit? Would we continue on? It’s hard to say but my gut reaction is that we’d go on, get another boat and somehow continue our adventure. At the same time that’s an easy answer to come up with when we’re snug on the hook in a safe harbor well out of harms way. We both agreed that making the break with our conventional lifestyles was probably our biggest hurtle and that somehow we will deal with what comes our way when it comes our way.
In the mean time we’ll continue to sort out our own boat problems and at the same time spend quality time with our friends before our ways part again; them for St. Martin and us to the Dominican Republic.




Thanks to technology I have been able to have an Instant Messenger conversation with each of my kids over the past couple of days. My children have started their own life’s paths and moved away on their own in the last few years. Being able to communicate in this way with them does a lot to support our family unity as well as ease my mind as to their well-being. Having a back and forth dialogue, even when it’s written, seems much more intimate and personal that email.

