Reaching Toward Freedom

I was exhausted by the time I'd finished my text and started thinking it was time for me to sleep. If the weather prediction held true, tomorrow would be a good day. I'd sail up Buzzards Bay and take the Cape Cod Canal into Cape Cod Bay. Unless the wind veered north, the sailing should be easy, and I could make Plymouth by Friday evening.

Day 6: Friday

I slept well Thursday night. Voyager jerked about a little when the wake of passing boats made her tug on her dock lines, but I slept soundly. Then, for the first time since Saturday, I went into town for breakfast. I was missing the protein of my daily diet and got a plate of eggs and bacon with some good coffee and orange juice.

Feeling good, I returned to the boat and checked my cell. I had messages from both the kids. As I expected, they were upset, and they had questions. I expected them to doubt my story about their mother and George, but they surprised me. I suppose they were more observant as kids within the marriage that I had been as a husband. Both had seen their mother's selfish side more clearly than me and they believed what I had told them. They wanted my assurances that I would stay in touch and that they could come to visit me once I was settled, and I eagerly responded and assured them that they would always have an open invitation and a place to stay with me. I missed them so much, but their love and support lifted my spirits! I don't mind telling you that I sat there in the cabin, and I wept. My wife may have betrayed me, but the kids were standing by me and that would be enough.

When I was ready and my bedding was stored in a dry place, I started the engine, dropped the dock lines, and headed out to Buzzards Bay. The sail up the bay was relaxing. The wind was steady from the west, there were only a few boats out, and I made good time as I sailed for the canal. The Cape Cod Canal is much like the C&D Canal, and I knew I might need to pass near some commercial shipping headed the other way, and while I didn't like the idea, I knew I wasn't the first to do it and I felt I was ready. It proved easier than I expected. I dropped my sails by the mouth of the canal and made an easy passage through to Cape Cod Bay. I was getting to be an old hand at this sort of thing!

I had time and Cape Cod Bay is a large, semi-sheltered body of water that is open only to the north. The wind had veered north, which made a more direct course up the coastline impossible, so I set Voyager's course northeast and headed out toward the middle of the bay. It was liberating. I raised the main, jib, and genny, trimmed the sheets, killed the engine, and felt the boat accelerate. Voyager was laying over to starboard with the wind in her teeth and she was charging northeast into open water. She was rising and falling, pitching slightly with every wave, and it felt as if nothing could stop her. It was exhilarating and liberating, and I felt that between the two of us we could do anything.

There was barely time to go below and pour myself a drink today. There was no boredom and no sitting on the cockpit sole. I was staying topside with the wind in my face. I let the autohelm drive the boat, but I watched that the sails continued to draw and kept an eye on the electronic navigation. Voyager was in her element and sailing perfectly! She was a thing of beauty, power, and grace. I was now felt that I was charging forward to build a life of my own making. I could build my life anew. I would rise to every occasion. I could meet every challenge. I was ready. That is the feeling that a strong breeze and a good boat can give you and that is how I sailed into the middle of Cape Cod Bay.

I reached the center of the bay and tacked toward the northwest. It was an easy matter. I set a new course for the autohelm and as the boat turned to port, I released the foresail sheets from the starboard cleats. The sail comes across the center line of the boat naturally and once across I winched the sheets home and trimmed the sails. The main tacked without attention. It took about fifteen seconds from port to starboard tack, and as Voyager accelerated, I marveled at how well everything worked. Of course, with a crew it would all happen faster, but I was doing everything myself. The helm was solid and smooth, the sails were drawing well, and the hull was surprisingly fast. I checked the navigation, and I would easily clear Stage Point taking care to pass east of Solid Horse Rocks and Mary Ann Rocks, and I would make Plymouth well before nightfall.

Sailing northwest I began to think about navigation and those rocks ahead. In the days before electronic navigation, a skipper earned his keep by knowing his location regardless of the weather. When a fog came in, they still needed to know that they were avoiding the dangers ahead. Those rocks became a metaphor for the decisions that brought me here. How did I not see the rocks ahead when the kids left for college, and we became empty nesters? I had assumed that it was clear sailing, but the fog had rolled in without my knowing it and there were rocks ahead. Was George the rock, or would it have been someone else if it hadn't been George? And how many rocks had I passed over in the years before not knowing that destruction was all around me? I told myself there would be no more of that, but like the sailors of earlier days we cannot live our lives in complete safety. We select our crew, set our course, and prepare for what may come, but there is always a danger lurking and a man needs a good crew and a solid boat to manage the dangers and reach the safety of port.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Listen to me. I'm a philosopher sailor. How will I surprise myself next?"

With thoughts of Sheila behind me once again, I kept one eye on the sails and one on the navigation screen as I raced toward Plymouth. It was a bright and breezy afternoon and Voyager reveled in the waters of Cape Cod Bay. I had marveled at how well she had handled the wind and waves coming north along the New Jersey shore, but here it was as if she were playing in the semi-sheltered waters of the bay, and I sailed on with a light heart and a free spirit.

It was early evening as I slowly motored Voyager into my rented slip, and I saw a familiar form standing on the dock waiting to greet me. Craig had beaten me here! He quickly tossed me each dock line and Voyager was soon resting in place.

"You made good time!"

"So did you! How did you get here from the airport?"

Craig laughed. "All the world is tied together by shuttles and cabs. It's just a matter of finding your best choice and I had a day to do it."

Craig stepped aboard. He was carrying a canvas duffle bag and looking every bit the sailor that he wasn't. "Where did you get the duffle?"

"I used to use it for my laundry in college. I knew it would come in handy again!" He was all smiles, and it was good to see him.

"Just toss your bag below and we'll get a bite to eat."

Craig took me literally and tossed his duffle below to the sound of crashing plates and cups. He gave me a sheepish look with just a hint of concern.

I was laughing too hard to be angry. "I think you hit the sink."

I shut and locked the hatch, and we made our way into town. Tonight we would pull out all the stops and have a dinner befitting the moment. We were sailing men and we wanted steak with a glass or two of scotch to go with it.

Over dinner I told him of my voyage, and he told me of the goings on back at home.

It was after dark when we made our way back to Voyager. As I unlocked the hatch with the promise of fixing us each a bourbon, I heard a voice behind me say, "Excuse me, sir, are you William Harris?" I turned to see two uniformed officers and the harbor master standing on the dock alongside the boat.

"Yes, can I help you?"

The older and I assume more senior officer said, "Well sir, we have an alert to watch for you. May we come aboard?"

I looked at their hard soled shoes and frowned.

"We won't take long." With that, the senior officer began to step aboard.

"Just a moment! I didn't say yes. If you want to come aboard, you can take off those shoes. I'll not have you scuffing the deck with those soles." Okay, I was being a bit of a jerk, but he could have waited until I responded to his request.

It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't like my response, but he complied, and I watched two uniformed officers, two of Plymouth's finest, remove their shoes and step aboard Voyager in their stocking feet.

"Take a seat. Get comfortable." I said it a bit tongue in cheek. There wasn't much comfort on a hard cockpit bench.

The four of us sat in Voyager's cockpit as the harbor master walked back along the dock and waited for the officers.

"What can I do for you fellas?"

They were beginning to look a bit uncomfortable, and I suspect they were embarrassed. This was probably not their first time at this. "Well sir, it seems that your wife is concerned about you. She, or perhaps I should say the Annapolis police, contacted the towns along the coast to inform us that you might be passing through. She says you are 'disturbed.'" I could tell he didn't like that word any more than I did, and I think he was searching for a better way to say it.

"Did she say I'd lost my mind?" I was laughing quietly. "Did she say I was emotionally impaired?"

Craig was smiling but trying not to laugh out loud.

"She said that you received some disturbing information and might not be behaving rationally."

My laughter was no longer quiet, and Craig gave up all pretense of keeping a straight face.

"Look, fellas, my wife dropped a nasty bomb on me about four weeks ago. She is having an affair and she intends to continue it. Our kids are grown, I was free to make some changes in my life, and I will not be disrespected in that way. I arranged a transfer at work and I'm moving my boat to Maine. It's no more complicated than that."

The two officers were nodding at this point, and I think I detected a look of envy in the older fellow.

The younger officer looked at Craig and asked, "Are you traveling with him?"

"I wasn't, but I am now. He sailed up from Annapolis on his own, but I'll be joining him from here to Portland."

The two men looked at me with renewed respect. "You sailed this boat by yourself from Annapolis to here?"

"I did."

"Did you have any problems?"

"Not until now." I smiled at the younger man, and he had the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

The older officer looked about the cockpit, glanced forward toward Voyager's bow, and I'll assume he recognized a well-equipped boat that was maintained in good condition. Turning to me, he said, "Well, sir, I'm sorry that we bothered you. You do seem to have everything under control. We'll just wish you a safe trip and I hope you find the life you're looking for."

As we stood, I shook their hands and apologized for having them remove their shoes. They laughed and held no grudge.

"Could you pass the word up the coast that I'm not quite as nuts as my wife would have them believe?"

They nodded and said they would, and with that they departed.

Craig looked at me. "Man, there is never a dull moment with you, is there?"

I had no reply for that, so I stepped below to fix us each a glass of scotch. We spent the rest of the night sitting in Voyager's cockpit, sipping our scotch, and watching people go about their business. When it was time, we went below, fixed our bunks, and got some much-needed sleep.

Day 7: Saturday

Now that Craig had joined me the voyage would change. We could sail longer taking shifts if we wanted. There were ample ports and an abundance of choices. We could take time to visit the offshore islands, change sails more easily and more often, and we could cook while underway. Best of all, I had someone to talk with and telling stories was Craig's greatest talent. From here on, the Voyage would be downright civilized.

Before leaving Plymouth, we took the time to get a proper breakfast. Craig could not resist the pancakes with maple syrup, but for me a decadent breakfast is always eggs Benedict. We were both more than pleased with our meal and the coffee that washed it down.

As we walked back to the boat, Craig said, "You know, all the wives went over to your house and tore Sheila a new one." I think for a brief moment he got a visual image of what he'd said and laughed.

"What wives?"

"All of them! My wife, Jack's wife, Pete's wife, Dave's, Jerry's, Paul's... I think my daughter even tagged along."

I will admit that for a moment my mind turned to ugly thoughts like, "You reap what you sow", but I was growing increasingly determined that my new life would not be built on the anger of the past.

"If it means anything to you, Gloria says she still can't imagine why Sheila did it. She's always said you were an exemplary husband."

"That's kind of her."

"Actually, what she says is, 'Why can't you be more like Bill?'"

Leave it to Craig to make me feel better about my life.

As we walked down the pier toward Voyager I asked, "When are you due back?"

"I've got an appointment on Thursday, but Gloria encouraged me to stay away as long as I can."

"Okay, okay, you know that girl is crazy about you, don't you?"

"Yeah, but she has an odd way of showing it sometimes."

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face if I'd wanted to.

"I was thinking if we have the time, maybe we could spend the day sailing in the bay and then spend the night out at Provincetown. That will open our options for tomorrow and we can easily make Boston or maybe Portsmouth if the wind holds."

"Sounds like a plan to me! Do we have enough food onboard? I think I saw a market somewhere."

"We've got enough to get by, and Provincetown has lots of great restaurants. We won't starve."

So that's what we did. It was great to have the company after nearly a week of being alone. I felt that I'd burned through a lot of the pain of the weeks before my departure, and even though I knew it would return, I was ready to be with other people again. I was ready to be human again. We started out heading southeast toward Barnstable, not that we went that far, and later turned east, and then north again. When we were in danger of reaching Provincetown too soon, we again turned west until it was finally time to make for port. We were just exercising the rig and enjoying the day. Dinner was excellent and we ended our day by sitting on deck late into the night sipping bourbon and talking.

"Did you ever learn why?"

I hadn't thought of Sheila all day and was momentarily caught off guard. "Why what?"

"Why she did what she did?"

"No. She said he interested her. I think that's code for an itch she wanted to scratch. She told me that she needed the freedom to explore new horizons whatever that means."

"And she just announced that she wanted to pursue this George character?"

"That's what she said, but she admitted they were already going to lunch and dinner and some dancing. The way I figure it, if she was telling me even half of what was true, then she'd already slept with him."

"She admitted it?"

"She didn't deny it."

"Damn. That is one cold bit... Sorry."

"No, she's a bitch. There's no doubt about it now."

"So that was all the explanation she gave you?"

"It was all I could sit still for. After that, I moved into the guest room and ignored her. She was still coming home late, and I was cooking dinner for myself. When she announced that she was going away for the weekend, I knew that providence had intervened. I could pack up my stuff and leave without needing to listen to her bitch and moan." I looked over at my friend and said, "It was the first good weekend I'd had in a month!" That earned me a muffled laugh and we ended our night sipping bourbon and watching the people walk past.

Day 8: Sunday

We had a decision to make today. If the wind was strong and from the right direction, we could make for Portsmouth New Hampshire. If not, we could head for Boston which is closer. We rose before the sun, checked the weather prediction, fixed some coffee and made two bowls of cereal, and then decided to head out. I hadn't used the engine very much since that first day, except to get into and out of the harbors and through one canal, so if the wind failed, we could reach a nearby port reliably.

The wind was stirring as we left Provincetown and we optimistically set sail for Portsmouth. The wind was from the west, and we set our sails on a close reach making acceptable speed on a heading fifteen degrees west of north.

We'd spent so much time the night before discussing my cruise north and my personal matters with Sheila that we never got around to catching up on the more routine events of the past week. I shook my head in disbelief at all that I had missed in such a short time. Pete got that promotion he was hoping for, Jack's oldest daughter was expecting, and Jerry's wife was pregnant with their third. You can probably tell that we were a group drawn together by common interests rather than age. Craig and I reminisced about the arrival of our own kids and all the changes they brought to our lives. I think we both secretly wished that we could do it all over again, but then common sense and nature prevailed, and we soon regained our senses. Raising children is a young person's game. We were both rapidly approaching the time of grandparenting and looking forward to it. I had it explained to me by my father who had it explained to him by his father that the chief job of a grandparent is to spoil the grandkids. He and mom had earned the right and I was looking forward to my turn. Damn Sheila and her search for freedom! That was one more thing she had ruined. I could still be a grandparent, but with us living apart we would at best take turns sharing the experience.

The wind freshened and backed to the southwest, so we eased the sheets, raised the jib, and sailed a broad reach toward Portsmouth. We were now making excellent time and we spent the rest of the day drinking hot coffee and iced tea, practicing our knots, and telling dad jokes that would make our adult kids groan. That day was coming, too, when they would be telling dad jokes and their kids would groan. Yes, payback was coming!

It was getting late in the day as we were closing on Portsmouth, but it was not yet night, and we had another decision to make. We could motor up the Piscataqua River, or we could head a bit easterly and drop anchor at the Isles of Shoals. It was an easy decision. We had food, we didn't need to fight that river current, and if we anchored offshore, we could lie in the cockpit and watch the stars. The little kids in us won out and we headed for the Isles of Shoals.

The Isles of Shoals have limited, restricted access to people, but we didn't need to go ashore. It got cool as the sun set, so for a time we went below to prepare our meal. We had scrambled eggs with some canned meat and chili peppers that we fried in the pan, and tortillas to make burritos. We made a pot of coffee to fight off the evening chill and finished the meal with the last of the cookies that I'd stowed in Annapolis before I left. It may not sound like much, but after a day of sun, wind, and sea, it was a feast. We'd had a long sail up from the cape. The sun and wind drain a man of all affectations and leaves him wanting something basic, essential, and real. With our jackets on and our bellies and coffee mugs full, we sat in the cockpit and watched the stars slowly rotate overhead.

"I'm really starting to understand why you headed north, Bill. It's beautiful up here."

I just nodded in the dark. The coast up here is rugged and rocky, but there is a seemingly unlimited number of navigable rivers and harbors to explore.