Two Years In, or Doing What We Can with the Time Given Us

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Exactly two years ago today we embarked on a journey that would take us around the Pacific. We did not know then the challenges we would face. We did not know then that the world would close itself off, that so many hearts and minds would close themselves off to our shared humanity, and that we would be navigating a world so different than that rainy June day two years ago.

And today – two years after friends and family knifed through our dock lines and stood loyally on the dock in the pouring rain waving goodbye until we passed out of sight – we begin our journey home. The passage to Hawaii was a refugee passage, a forced voyage that had never been intended but was our only refuge in a world closing down around us. And we’ve loved Hawaii, perhaps except for the heat. And for all that we couldn’t leave the island of Oahu, we have managed to take hikes in its jungles, to boogie-board in its warm waves, to eat lots of poke and poi and Kalua pig, and for a time experience the beautiful life and culture on this remarkable island. When the words come to me, I will write more about the five weeks we spent here, full of joy at being reunited as a family, full of new friendships, and – not least – full of seeping sweat from the constant heat and humidity.

But today we start our passage to Alaska. Alaska is not our physical home, not where our address is or where we are registered to vote. It is not where our family is. But it is the Pacific Northwest, and I feel a lump in my throat and wetness welling in my eyes as I contemplate a return to a land full of rain and cold and magnificent dense forests of Douglass firs and Lodgepole pines, of blue spruce and red cedars.

Alaska was also my home for three wonderful years as a child. It is where I learned to ski, camp, hike, adventure, and use all my senses to smell the change of seasons. It is where I learned to appreciate darkness and light. It is where I learned to write, guided by my fifth-grade teacher, Natascha Ginsburg, who had us write every genre of poetry and prose in our still childlike, unsure handwriting. It took me a full seven years of life in Colorado to finally admit that I was no longer an Alaskan. And yet Alaska wedged itself so deeply into my being, that returning to its mosquito-dense forests, muddy trails smelling sweetly of rotting leaves, and fjords full of low gray clouds feels like coming home.

We have taken heed of Gandalf’s wisdom. In the past two years, despite the challenges and surprises, we have done so much with the time given to us. We have filled it with friends, food, flora, and fauna (you can thank Mrs. Ginsburg, for introducing me to the fun of alliteration!). We have filled it with tears and agony, love and support, new languages and old alternators. I find I have no sadness or regrets as we begin our slow journey home, because we have experienced so much and grown so much in the last two years. Our Pacific Voyage may have a different loop than we had anticipated, but what a loop it has been. And we not only have the next three months to live fully, but to contemplate how we can live and learn in the time that is given us after that. How to build a rich, full life in our Northwest home, how to raise thoughtful, compassionate, and inspired children, and how to do our part in building a welcoming and vibrant community and world.

Informational Addendum:

• Shortly after writing this, we learned that the surf is really big today in the Ala Wai Harbor entrance, so we will need to keep an eye on it and depart when it’s safe. If today isn’t safe, it might not be until tomorrow or Friday.
• The voyage to Kodiak should take 17-19 days. Once we leave, you can follow our journey on https://share.garmin.com/Korvessa.
• The kids are back in Washington with their grandparents. We discussed taking the kids on this passage and strongly considered it, but decided not to because it is likely to be a more difficult passage weather and wave-wise. As our friends Behan and Jaime on Totem say, “suffering is optional.” The kids will be able to have special time with their grandparents, Tom and I can focus on sailing and resting, and I will for the first time be able to undertake a passage without kids, which is important for my own skill building and confidence. (Tom and I sailed alone together from San Francisco to LA, but we were at anchor every night).
• Our time in Alaska will be relatively short – max two months before we catch some south winds back to Washington – and we will focus our time on south-central Alaska, specifically the Kenai Peninsula and Prince William Sound. Most of Southeast Alaska will have to wait for summer vacations in the future.
• ps. If you comment here and it doesn’t show up, it’s because I need to approve it, which I can’t do until I have internet access again.
• Thanks for all your well wishes! Onward to Alaska!