Brendan, our autopilot named after Saint Brendan the Navigator, died. There was no indication that he was even ailing. I have always been appreciative of his part in our cruising and when folks have said – just the two of you sailing offshore all that way…. I would always say, yes, with the assistance of Brendan. He’s like having another crew member! Most sailors will appreciate our loss but for you non sailors I am not sure if you can imagine the implications – the boat needs to be “driven” at all times and in 4 straight days of cooking, eating, sleeping, adjusting the sails, navigating, even toileting, without Brendan, one of us needs to helm the vessel! And probably even more significant to the need it created, I have rarely been at the helm. I am the eager “crew” who cranks the winches and drops the anchor but intentionally I have avoided the wheel. Gypsy is by far the largest vessel I have sailed and when you turn the wheel right she does not respond like a car! It was in the early afternoon of our second day out when Brendan was no more. We had had a leisurely sail out of Exuma Park and we reached New Providence Island in the evening. The distant diffused light that illuminated the sky along with the many stars made a magical feeling and we both were invigorated. There was a vibrant fireworks display in the distance and although I was the first one to attempt to sleep, the many sites of the night keep us talking. I made popcorn and we sat in the cockpit munching and speculating what was going on in the distance. Neither of us slept very much. By the time Brendan stopped working we may not have had a total of much more than 6 hours of sleep between the two of us! To add to the intensity of the reduction of our crew, there was no wind! The calm was so silent. We whispered through the water and the clarity and shallow depth allowed us the advantage of snorkeling without ever entering the water. After an hour or more the wind picked up significantly; very irregularly at first; changing direction at random. It was dark and I was at the helm when we jibbed several times without forewarning; I could not see the sails. My knuckles were blanched from their grip on the wheel and I frequently needed to remind myself to breathe. Dan woke to take his watch and the wind velocity started reaching the high 20s; then the squalls began. We made our way over the Outer Banks in the shroud of the building weather: howling winds, irregular spits of rain and tossing seas. Dan could not do it alone and Brendan was not functional; I needed to drive the boat! And I did, intermittently, for hours, and I am grateful for the opportunity. Mastery is a development stage and many times in my life I have felt the exhilaration of accomplishment. This was one of them! 
There were many memory “keepers” on this trip. Dolphins swimming around our boat was one of them. Dan spotted them first and went to the bow to get a closer look. Five dolphins were playing with us! I was excited beyond words. Their powerful bodies cutting through the water, surfacing when needed, keeping pace with our speed. I nearly laid down on the bow to speak to them, praising their beauty, rejoicing in their trust. Looking into the eye of one in particular I found myself mumbling apologies for the injustices we humans have rendered to their species either directly or indirectly. We are ruining the ocean with our greed. I wanted to touch their sleek bodies, give them a token to carry along with them – perhaps one of my earrings or a shell I collected on the beach… when this irrational thought process ceased I mused that they undoubtedly have seen more beautiful shells that I’ve ever encountered and, besides, where would a dolphin hang an earring on those super sleek bodies of theirs? For hours after their departure I scanned the water’s surface for any hint that they were still about.
Portuguese Man-O’-War is new to me. Dan pointed out the first one he saw and I struggled to see what he was referring to. Sliding up one side of the wave and surfing down the other these 4-6 inch long “sailors” had their “sail” up and until they were side swiped by another wave or were knocked down by too heavy of a breeze, they silently drifted with the wind. Under the “sail” there appears to be a turquoise, turnover-sized pocket of “body” filled with air. What I could not see were the cascading poisonous tendrils that anchored this creature in the water. Hundreds of these creatures passed us over the course of one afternoon. The grace of their procession flirted with my imagination, making me rethink the “war” they may be waging. Perhaps they are organizing to make a visible statement about our environment!
Somehow arriving back in the USA feels like the end of a chapter. Under Dan’s careful planning and knowledge we set out to explore our world, both the physical world and our own internal worlds. The respect I have for the power of nature is only magnified since living as closely as I have been living for the past 4 months. My internal world has been tampered with: my coping mechanisms, my perceptions of my own strength, my value as a person, even my reason for living. I have taken time to explore the depths of my joy and of my fears. Onward to Chapter II.
