The 9th Rider

I was nervous when I arrived at work to give my notice.  There is always a thin layer of invisible poisonous gas floating in the air.  If you are having a bad month, the lack of air is more prominent.  Salesman, a most insecure lot, rarely talk about big deal closings, but always about the one that got away.  They mostly get away.  I had purchased a couple of books on How to Sell and How to Sell More.  These self help sales books left me feeling like an inadequate loser (quitting your job would be deemed as offing yourself). I did realize that when you used the techniques it was a numbers game.  If you used the technique 1000 times, it would work at least once.  This absence of air kept me in a total panic even when I was making money.   I felt by giving my notice I was going to disappoint my employers.  They had paid me through good times and bad, and now I was leaving at their time of need.  "The business is down and we need results."

My handlers heard me out as I babbled about this and that, and the economy, and so on; to finally come to the point that I was going sailing.  "You scumbag, how dare you?  How dare you leave us with our quest for Mercedes and Corvettes?  Our new homes on Cul de Sacs with hot tubs and riding mowers.  Our Lowes credit cards and vacations in Playa del Carmen.  How dare you leave us in this office,  where we sit on our asses under fluorescent lights, eight hours a day, every day until we die?  You will pay for this, pay big time."

I also realized that I would have probably been fired in the heart of winter when surviving in Maine is the hardest.  The people who came after me were let go, so the writing was on the wall.  I got out of the building as soon as possible.

The anxiety that I felt did not leave me as soon as I stepped outside.  Like rounding the dangerous Cape of Good Hope, even though you have sailed 300 miles past it, it can still humble  you with a storm.  So I quietly disappeared.  On the drive home, I felt as if I was cast away into the ocean with no tether, free floating, but floating, not sinking.  The sinking feeling was gone.  I started to laugh and feel an honest joy, an elation.  The blinders that were on my eyes fell away and the day became so colorful; I became high, as high as a kite.

I was caught up in thought while travelling back to Portland on the I-95 super highway for the worker.  I noticed in the rear view mirror a pack of motorcycle riders moving toward me quickly.  It was a gang, all travelling at 85 miles per hour and with no helmets. I moved to the middle lane so they could pass.  Eight barbarians on Harley's.  The six men were all of the barfighter variety and wore the leather uniforms of a Connecticut posse.  These hard heads did not come from Mystic.  I locked onto a heavyset women riding a FLH with straight pipes. When she was next to me, I sped up to stay close.  Her concentration at 90 mph was significant and her beauty mystifying.  As I rolled down the window I could not help thinking that all that power and speed must render her insatiable in the real world.  I fell in behind the group and increased my speed so I could be a part of the gang.  With the windows rolled down and the sound of their pipes bellowing, I placed my hands on the car wheel in such a fashion where it was like I was holding handle bars and not a steering wheel.  I became the ninth rider.  I rode my hog to the Portland exit ten miles away, where the gang flipped me the bird and went on their merry way. I went home to celebrate not having to drive to the orifice(office) anymore.

Motorcycling was the beginning of my love for sailing.  At seventeen, I would go camping with friends, but would travel alone on my CB750F.  A small duffel and a sleeping back was all I carried and all I needed.  The feeling of freedom and independence was profound.  Sailing offers freedom and independence.

Harder can be better.

Many people have mentioned how they envy us and how they would like to go on a big sailing adventure. I'm not certain people realize how much work is involved. You get to sell your possessions and home which stirs up your emotions beyond belief. You have the stress of juggling a job, outfitting a boat and keeping the finances in order. The last has never been a skill of mine. No matter how much money you have, it is not enough. The same goes for time, you will not have enough of that either. Oh, you still have to be father and a husband!

We went for a little overnight this weekend to cow island. It is just a few miles from Portland, but you instantly feel like you're far from the city. Maine is like that! Great smooth sail at 3 knots with Rebecca at the helm. We had got a late start around 4pm and the wind was dying. My two year old started melting down and our 8 year old started feeling his needs were not being met around 5:30. (Dante can blow your head off with his super shrill tantrum scream. I promise I will record one for you.) With half a mile to go, we tied the inflatable onto the side of the boat and motored to the mooring field. Amazing how a four horse Evinrude can push a sailboat that has a gross weight of 15 tons. Now, I'm working on my anchoring skills and a mooring whose condition is unknown tells me",anchor over there, where it is clear," no problem. Done. Now rush to get dinner to calm the troops and get a gin and tonic.

That night, all the Bondellio's were snug in their births, when a high pressure trough funnels in creating 20 knot winds and 3 foot seas that turn our anchorage into a lee shore. A lee shore strikes fear into all sailors. Especially sailors with engineless boats and kids on board. I did not sleep the entire night. I was on deck to check the anchor 30 times, fearing that it would lose its grip or chafe through the rode. I was prepared to sail off and we had the room, but it would have been a total white knuckle situation. Thankfully, the anchor held.

The next day, after the wind abated and a leisurely breakfast... I hoisted the sails to sail off the hook. The boat heeled over and headed out of the anchorage only to stop and round up back toward the spot we just came from. Two hours of back breaking anchor hauling and sailing around in circles would not break the anchor free. Finally, I waived down a Lobsterman and and he agreed to haul up on my anchor rode to see what the problem was. Turns out there was a 3 foot by 3 foot ball of tangled lobster pot warp (trap line) surrounding the anchor. It took this man 30 minutes to set the gear free. I was indebted to him and presented cash which he would have none of. So I presented half a bottle of dark rum. He gladly accepted.

Now as I ponder the situation, I cannot believe how lucky we were or blessed. Did my anchor drag and was the Vindhler heading for the rocks, only to be saved by the lobster pots? Or did we somehow create the entanglement trying to get off in the morning? Well it does not matter now. We are safe and learned another valuable lesson. Funny how life keeps teaching us regardless of how long we have lived. That is, of course, if you are really living, taking some chances.


The sail home was fantastic. Blake and I were in the cockpit and we had the Vindhler dialed in. We were reaching into Portland Harbor and were walking away of boats that should have sailed with us. They were trying to, but we were invincible at that moment. So we had a night of incredible stress and fear, needed the help of others, and then had a euphoric high. Such is sailing. Art Dahlberg sold me the Vindhler and stated appropriately, that sailing is 90% boredom and 10% terror.


The photo is of a couple of doubler patches under the stern. My brother Matt helped me with the welding.

Refocus

Refocus...That is what my boss calls it. My performance in sales has been lacking, although I have produced some results; my heart is not in it. It is very hard for me to excel in areas where there is no passion... "John, we need you to refocus your efforts." "OK, I will do that..."

Let me bring you up to speed. I'm in the process of creating lemonade from a batch of life's lemons. Maine has been hard for us, beautiful, but hard. I remember the words of a Wall street type telling me," it's horrible out there." He meant outside of NYC. Also the words of a gal who came to Maine from NYC to start her own business and failed miserably. I do not feel Maine is horrible, quite the opposite, but I definitely know now that I lived in a silly little New York City art world bubble for 15 years and had no idea of the world's reality. Really Hard! I see people struggling to make ends meet. They are distressed by trying to keep up with each other in this crazy race for status, perpetuated by the puppeteers of media and finance. I personally would be ashamed to make my living on the weaknesses of others. Think credit card late payment charges. So, now at 45, I'm barely making a living and all I see around me are people who's sole concern is their comfort. It is not all misery for us, actually the opposite. We live better than people with much higher incomes. We eat like royalty and have a comfortable home near the ocean, and we sail. I know I sound like a hypocrite, except I'm not in control of my destiny, God is. Five years ago, I started a business that was destined to fail regardless of how hard I worked or how much borrowed money I threw at it. Did God set me up to fail so I could have some painful adversity and humility that would ultimately steer me in the direction I am in now? I think so!
Here is the refocus-We have sold our house, we have sold what was left of our business, we have sold 75% of our possessions, we will be debt free in less than a month, we will have no health insurance, our only physical asset is our boat, we will sell our car, which has very little monetary value. I will quit my job and when we return we will start over. Completely.
The benefits-Being off the God forsaken treadmill of life for awhile, spending everyday with my wife and children, travelling in a slow fashion, not spending money unnecessarily, learning that possessions will not make us ultimately happy, teaching my son Blake that the poor are beautiful and valuable to God and us, and big dreams do come true.

I'm seven weeks from travelling to the Bahamas on board the Vindhler. The work involved is almost insurmountable. Right now we are looking for a used, but rebuilt diesel. I wish there was a way to keep the Vindhler engineless. She sails beautifully without the drag of a propeller. It has been excellent for our skills going everywhere without the aid of a motor. For those who have never sailed Maine, it is windy most of the time, especially in the afternoon when the Southwester fills in. (Oh, now I remember why I love it here!) My wife has no problem picking up the mooring as we come in under sail. I feel with kids on board an engine would offer a level of safety when needed. Of course they often fail to start, so we will continue to sail on and off the hook when we can. I think it was Don Street or the Pardey's who said that they had never seen a wrecked boat on a reef or rocks that did not have an engine! Makes you wonder.

I received some emails and photos from our owners group. The Vindhler was built in Holland in the early 50's and shipped to a dealer in Connecticut for distribution. I believe around 80 boats were built and about 60 came to the US. We know of about a dozen.