Drunk, dropped-out, and dissolute

August 2024

By Christopher Birch

The sailing life is not conducive to sobriety. Every day is Saturday, or Fun-Day-Sunday, or some other day that ends in “y.” Or it’s 5:00 o’clock somewhere. Or something about a yardarm. Our sea-going role models – Ernest Hemingway, Jack Sparrow, Capt. Ron – only fan the flames. The sea can make a sailor thirsty! Or, as Robert Louis Stevenson so eloquently put it: “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”

A boozy backdrop adds to the fun of a 10-day cruise around New England, tipping back a few beers at anchor and a mudslide or two on Block Island. But when you upgrade your life to full-time voyaging, it’s prudent to take a step back and reevaluate.

My wife, Alex, and I left the confines of Boston Harbor bound for adventures unknown a little over two years ago. Since then, our course has taken us up to Newfoundland and down to the Bahamas. Now we’re in the process of crossing to England via Bermuda and the Azores.

Three lessons learned along the way stand out. Lesson #1: Sail now or forever hold your peace. Details can be found in this column in the July 2024 issue of Points East.

Lesson #2: Keep a weather eye out for the three D’s: Drunk, Dropped-out, and Dissolute.

For most sailors, the happy weekends and relaxing weeklong coastal cruising trips around home waters are what seed interest in extended voyaging. And in a lot of ways extended voyaging is a never-ending series of months of those earlier weeklong vacations. Sounds like bliss, right? In many ways it is. But you soon realize that there comes a time when you need to switch mental gears away from Weekend Warrior and into Full-Time Voyager. You don’t want to be that sloppy guy falling out of the dinghy, the drunk with his phone on the bottom of the harbor, the one to avoid on the beach, or otherwise stumbling around on the dark side of the three D’s.

As my sailing friend, Joyce, points out, “It’s not the 1800s. And you’re not a pirate. And you don’t need to have a rum bottle in your hand all the time. Or ever.” Something of a cold shower, that Joyce, but she does have a point. The more time we’ve spent out here sailing, the more we’ve come to respect moderation in many forms.

Even for those who have their drinking under control, a dropped-out malaise and a dark, sunbaked dissolution can creep into the head of a sailor on a seemingly pointless and never-ending journey. For some, just going from one island to the next, swimming in impossibly blue water and walking pristine beaches is all they need in life. Other people, I’ve come to learn, need more of a mission to help order their hours and drive their days.

Projects vary from boat to boat. Many sailors earn their way by working under or above the table at whatever jobs they can find along the way. Some work remotely at full-time online jobs back home and wish they had a little less mission and a little more R&R. On kid boats, raising and educating children onboard fills the mission need with ease.

For other crews, missions have clearly been added intentionally. We’ve met sailors who volunteer in local communities in a variety of different capacities. Others who attend to scientific pursuits in the local biosphere. Others who are committed to fostering the well-being of the cruising community of which they are a part. Others who evangelize for Jesus Christ. Others who try to become You Tube stars. Others who paint or write or craft professionally or otherwise. A few who polish their stainless and varnish their teak compulsively. And many who create music.

One thing for sure, people fill the void in many different ways, with some activities healthier than others. I’ve found various writing projects (including this column) to be exactly the rewarding kick my day (and our bank account) needs. Alex fills her head and hours (and our bellies) with cooking projects. Her rewards are shared more tangibly than mine and for that I am lucky and grateful.

On a deeper level, the source of the emotional void itself raises larger questions. Has society ingrained in us an unhealthy compulsion about productivity? I often wonder if our top goal should be to achieve a Zen state that would permit us to embrace the emptiness of a lazy day instead of constantly striving to fill it. I admire those who can find and occupy this place of peace.

Anticipating a potential emotional quandary is easy to overlook when preparing to set sail on an extended trip. Intentionally thinking on all sides of this topic is a worthy advance planning project, and perhaps the most important part of voyage preparation.

Up next, Lesson #3: You need less than you think.

Christopher Birch is the founder of Birch Marine Inc. on Long Wharf, Boston. He and his wife, Alex, are now cruising full-time aboard their 36’ Morris Justine. Follow their voyage at www.EagleSevenSailing.com.

The post Drunk, dropped-out, and dissolute appeared first on Points East Magazine.