I've never really been the type to spend New Years reminiscing. First of all, my memory isn't stellar, and I tend to fill in the blanks with whatever fits my fancy. So maybe just a list of memorable events is in order. So here is a list of what happened in 2016. My list, so I'm including what I want. See how it works?

With help I recovered from some serious foot surgery. I will hate crutches for the rest of my life.

My divorce was finalized.

A friend died and I didn't care who saw me cry.

Many upgrades were done to S/V Ava Chantel, my Cal 29 in Newport. Study, acquire, install, test, modify. This is how I learn.

Testing of the above upgrades in real life settings. On the hook. At the dock. How much power? How much water? We learned so much and had fun doing it.

I accepted the inevitable fact I'd have a crew member for my journey north and beyond. I'm a very lucky captain.

I realized I didn't have to sail Ava North. She could be trucked for a reasonable fee. The end of teeth grinding and open ocean planning.

In what could almost be called a cosmic event, Ava no longer needed to go north. We found our ideal boat already in the islands and she was for sale.

We became the proud owners of a beautiful BaBa 35, S/V Odyssey.

I've made no secret that one of my dreams was to have it snow on the boat. I've more then fulfilled that. It's snowing as I write this.

Disconnect. I never had been a big social media fan, but I didn't realized how cell phones, emails and texting still chained a part of my attention. I started to disconnect this year. Unsubscribing from countless lists, committees and groups. The quiet was unnerving. I don't turn my phone on unless I need to make a call.

Explore new foods and seek out new kitchen seasonings. Sarah has broadened my horizons with food I never new existed. It's all good.

The world got smaller. You can read about far away places like the San Juan Islands, but going there and seeing the scale and scope, the tides and weather, had a profound affect on my confidence. I could do this. We could do this. It wasn't so big or scary that we had to fear anything. By the end of 2016 we knew how to sail, and sail well. The Islands and explorations ahead will be met with wonder and adventurous spirits, but not fear.

"The sink drains a little slow." I think I remember hearing that during the survey. A slow draining kitchen sink is way down on the worrisome list while people with clipboards are crawling all over your soon to be boat. You keep expecting the bad news. "It looks fine except the keel is about to fall off". You don't expect, nor care really, if the silly sink is a bit slow.

So there I was, a few weeks later, staring at the standing water. Slow? It isn't draining at all. Ok, maybe a little. 15 minutes for 4 inches of dirty dish water to disappear can break your heart. There isn't but six inches of drop between the sink and thru hull but 15 minutes? To add insult to injury some runaway coffee grounds brought that trickle to a halt.

This post isn't about the comedy that ensued with the diagnosis and repeated failures of fixes, cuts and curses. I will tell you I took everything apart twice, poked and prodded, then re-installed to no avail.

We were headed to Odyssey this week. The plan called for a Wednesday departure followed by two weeks in the islands. True, the weather was cold and wet, but to get a break before a busy start of the new year kept us focused and determined to go. 
I’m a weather watcher, not a bad thing for a captain, so for about a week prior I watched NOAA and the like for ideas on what we could expect.
Disaster. A deep arctic cold front was being met by a wet storm from the south. The two collided on Wednesday in all the areas we needed to travel through. For those of you in other parts of the country, several inches of snow may not seem like much. The problem here in Oregon is that we don’t salt our roads. Add 25 degree air to a layer of snow, throw in a little freezing rain and every freeway from here to Portland comes crawling to a halt. The news stories of commuters taking over five hours to get home, distances less then 10 miles, were so numerous I doubt the paper could print them all. Crazy.

I found myself making the call. When could we drive if not today? Tomorrow? Would the pass be clear enough? If we went too soon we would have to use chains. A seven hour trip would stretch into 12-14. We would still be driving by the time darkness fell and the pavement froze solid. What made it worse was that we live right on the coast. Here the weather is moderated by the ocean air. Though cold, it never snowed on us. In fact it was nice and sunny most of the time. I knew from the reports that if we just waited all would be well. Three to four days would make all the difference. But waiting was painful and I had to make a decision.

It’s funny that my moment of truth as a captain had nothing to do with sailing. Still, I felt what many captains must feel when trying to decide to go or not to go. Is it safe? Is there a large enough weather window to allow for a safe transit? What are the conditions now, what will they become and what will we do if it all goes bad?

I’ve read this story before, of some other captain pushing off too soon and the consequences of a ‘schedule’. I also realized we didn’t have to go. This was not a critical trip. We could wait in our ‘safe harbor’  as long as we needed. I don’t think we could have gone yesterday but we may have been able to go today. The roads will be safe tomorrow and so that’s when we will go.

Out sailing I make decisions about how to sail. I decide when to reef and how tight to trim the genoa. In a safe boat I can test the limits of myself, crew and gear. But deciding when to sail distills down to the safety of the boat. Can we go now?  Will it be safe? So many times we hear of the captain making that bad decision and wonder why he didn’t just wait. I understand that a little more now. I hope the next time I’m just as patient, taking a moment to keep the urgency from making a bad decision for me.

Next week, safe on the boat, I’ll write and let you know how it’s going.

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This is important. We arent here to just motor about. We are here to experiance the world as few have, as few ever will.