On a balmy New Years Day a couple of decades ago, a lifetime ago, really, when I was still a lawyer at a large DC firm, I made a snap decision that changed the trajectory of my life.  Taking a rare day off I realized how much I really enjoyed time away from the office and discovered a world outside the cubicle where people meander, relax and enjoy one another’s company.  On that day I vowed to myself that if my situation had not changed dramatically by the following New Years Day I would have failed miserably.  And a year later I found myself setting sail on a new course for my life, a course into uncharted waters but one on which Suzy and I have had the opportunity to experience many excellent adventures.

And one of the dreams I dared to dream as I tacked out of the safety of the enclosed harbor that was my life, setting sail for the open seas, was to master the art of sailing and spend time plying the coastlines of strange and exotic places, experiencing life and enjoying life.  Appreciating life.

Yesterday was another step in that journey.

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We arrived at the marina in Casamicciola punctually for our 10am appointment with capitano Andrea.  And he greeted us next to the hydrofoil ticket office, as planned, with a deeply tanned face, a warm smile and perfect English.  Within a moment we were boarding Andrea’s 37 foot sloop that would be our confines for the next nine hours.  Andrea introduced us to his 15 year old son, Natale, who would be his mate for the day, although we were warned when booking this excursion that this would not be a joy ride but rather a working cruise.  Well sign us up and put us to work, I thought.

As we slowly motored out of the harbor Andrea was speaking to us of our itinerary, briefing us on the day’s weather, wind and sea forecast (we would have the good fortune of strong afternoon breezes after the lighter morning winds shifted and gave way to the prevailing winds and likewise we were fortunate that the seas were calm after two days of rather rough conditions).  He also began talking of his interesting personal story, one which had seen him crew on racing boats around the world, living in the UK and Australia, where he had met his wife and had settled down to manage sailing operations and teaching in Perth.  We were going to be in good hands with a capitano like Andrea.

And so we sailed away from Casamicciola and began a counterclockwise circumnavigation of Ischia that would eventually take us around its sister island of Procida, at first under power and then under sail, dropping the sails when the breezes died and heading for better wind under motor.  And from the moment we first raised the sail il capitano put me in charge of the helm.  I was steering the boat and feeling like I had died and gone to heaven.

Along the way Andrea dispensed a great deal of wisdom that comes from spending time under a vast sky, away from telephones, email and faxes.  He spoke of the value of the slow life and how one approaches that through the sailing life, contrasting it with those who choose power boats as their preferred mode of crossing the seas.  When you sail, Andrea mused, you realize that you have no power.  You must understand and feel everything around you so that you can use the power that is present in nature – the wind, the seas, the currents.  The cockpit of his boat, the Istria, bore a plaque that said simply “Guarda, Ascolta, Annusa, Senti.”  Look, Listen, Smell, Feel.”  To be a good sailor you must be in touch with your senses and tune the boat to take advantage of the forces that you perceive.  A motor boat jock, Andrea opined, “is kind of stupid,” not meaning weak of mind, but ignorant of the world around him because he makes his own power and does not have to understand anything.  Two modes of life, one in which you simply go to your destination without fuss or muss, the other in which you spend as much time preparing for how to reach your destination and working to get there than actually caring about the destination itself.  One that is a series of achievements the other where the journey itself is the thing.  I’m pretty sure that since that New Years day, my life jumped rails from the first track to the second.

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A half hour or so after leaving port, after making our way off shore, we finally found some good air and our giro had begun.  Andrea and Natale raised the billowing gennaker and even in the light breeze we were up to 5 knots.  The sun warmed our faces and the winds cooled and refreshed us as Ischia passed by us on our port side, eventually revealing to us all of its varied landscape of rocky cliffs, volcanic outcroppings, sandy beaches and colorful settlements such as Forio, Sant’Angelo and Ischia town itself.  After a few hours we rounded the southwest point of the island, the Punta Imperatore and made our way along the sheer, rocky southern coastline, dropping anchor in front of a secluded hotel called Scannella, a colony of twenty or so rooms built into the rocky cliffs, connected by stone steps leading down to a number of sea level terraces on which colorful beach chairs were grouped.  The terraces faced the crisp, clear sea and flanked a natural seawater pool as well as another manmade pool.  But our destination was not the pools but the restaurant that was perched about 100 feet above the sea, an open room with a handful of tables on the terrace looking out over the vast Mediterranean.  Suzy and I swam from the Istria to the hotel’s landing (with me holding credit card and cash over my head to keep them dry) and then ascended the steep and extremely hot stairs to the restaurant.  There we scared up some service (the staff was busy preparing lunch for the hotel guests which seemed to be a fixed menu and which was announced by loudly clanging a bell) and spent the next two hours enjoying marinated anchovies, tuna carpaccio and a plate of mixed grilled fresh fish, including freshly caught sword fish, tuna, calamari and other, unrecognizable fishes.  We washed this fresh fare down with some fresh local wine, light and without much complexity, but appropriate for this day of getting back to basics.  It was a two hour break from our seaborne journey, and a particularly welcome pause for Suzy.

After lunch it was a short swim back to the boat and time to raise the sails again.  By now the wind had filled in and was blowing at 20 knots or so, increasing the Istria’s speed to 8 to 9 knots, a pretty good clip.  I was getting more comfortable behind the wheel and Suzy was getting more comfortable on the boat in general.  We made our way across the southern coast and across the straights to Procida, Ischia’s much smaller sibling, rounding the colorful little island before beating back toward Casamicciola.  On the final homeward leg the wind was howling and the seas were rolling and on this particular point of sail (we had been warned) the boat was healing over and nearly perpendicular to the water.  A heeling sloop can be a bit unnerving to the uninitiated who imagine the whole thing rolling over and capsizing but, as I told Suzy these things do not happen often (in fact generally only once).  I found the wild ride home thrilling and exhilarating, Suzy perhaps a little less so.  For Andrea it was no doubt routine but throughout he never stopped looking, listening, smelling and feeling.

We arrived back in port at just about 7pm, a full nine hours after we had left.  And in the end we had simply come back to where we had started, perhaps not accomplishing much.  But if one considers life a journey and not a series of destinations it was one hell of a ride.  One we fully expect to repeat many times in the future.

Ci vediamo!
Bill and Suzy