The Turtle
After forty years of exploring on land, three weeks aboard an old sailing boat opened a world I had never imagined as my own
Around Aegina at Night
We left the western side of Aegina at around nine in the evening. We were going south around the island and then up the eastern side towards Agia Marina. It would take about two hours. There was not enough wind, so we travelled under engine. I stood at the wheel. Arnon was there, always aware and doing other things, but he trusted me. I handled the departure, the steering and half a metre behind us, Eva and Dana were lying on the deck having what looked like a girls’ night. They watched films, played games, ate crisps and chocolate and seemed almost unaware that we were moving around an island in the dark. They had no idea what was happening inside me. They were simply enjoying themselves, and that made me happy.
There was a full moon. We could see the coastline, lights from the towns and the occasional fishing boat. Onfe has no AIS, so we identified other vessels mainly by sight. I held the iPhone with the Boating app in my hand, which is not the best way to navigate, while also watching the depth, the compass, the engine revolutions, the shoreline and everything moving around us. The depth shown on the app and the depth shown on the boat did not always agree, and the bottom can rise quickly. There were rocks somewhere out there, fishing boats without much light and always the possibility that I had misunderstood the shoreline or missed something smaller in the darkness. I could not relax completely, but somehow I felt peaceful.
That feeling started almost from the moment we got everything ready to leave and stayed with me until we dropped the anchor outside Agia Marina. I was taking a boat somewhere. There was no road, no path and no visible track beneath us. There was only a course, the water, the instruments, the lights along the coast and something beyond the horizon. Behind me my daughters were happy and safe, and beside me was a man who trusted me. Everything else in my life disappeared.
What Exploration Does to You
Science have explanations for this feeling. Flow, curiosity, responsibility, the pleasure of learning something difficult. They are probably right, but explanations have never been the same as the feeling itself. At the wheel there was no room for money, work, age, future plans or any of the other things which usually fill my head. I had to know where we were, what the boat was doing, what was beneath us and what might be coming towards us. The focus itself became a kind of freedom.
This is part of what exploration has always done to me. It narrows life down to what matters at that exact moment. You have a direction, a job and people who depend on you. You are tired, curious, worried and happy at the same time. But exploration also exhausts you. It is not relaxation. My longest stretch at the wheel during these three weeks was around six hours, and afterwards I felt completely empty.
Sailing on an old boat like Onfe, a 56-foot Ta Chiao built in 1982, is harder than it looks from the shore. There are always things to check, ropes to handle, decisions to make, heat to deal with and very little space where you can be alone. We had strong sun almost every day. Salt was everywhere, in our mouths, on our clothes and in our beds. The strong wind was often the only thing which cooled us down. Yet the cramped living was never a problem for me or the girls. A boat is not so different from a tent. In fact, it is much more luxurious. You even have a shower, although perhaps not a super-duper one.
I had read sailing books before. Joshua Slocum sailing alone around the world, Tristan Jones and Tim Severin’s The Brendan Voyage. But I always jumped over the technical parts about what type of boat they had, how the sails were rigged and what equipment they used. I wanted the experience. What happened to the people? What did they feel? How did they deal with loneliness, fear and uncertainty?
I never thought sailing might become part of my own life. It was not even a possibility in my mind. I have explored on bicycles, horses, camels, skis and on foot. I have crossed deserts, mountains, frozen rivers and icecaps. The sea was something other explorers did. I knew what boats had meant in the history of exploration, how they opened routes between worlds and changed how people understood the planet, but after forty years of exploration I had never understood the physical feeling of leaving land behind and pointing a boat towards another place. During these weeks I discovered a form of exploration I had somehow missed.
Then Arnon Arrived
At the beginning, I was not sure it would work. The first week was an eye-opener. The atmosphere aboard became so difficult that I began to wonder whether sailing was for me at all. It was not the boat or the sea which caused the problem. It was people. At one point Eva asked why I was allowing people to treat me that way. She had seen what was happening even when I was still trying to accept it and keep the journey going. By the end of that first week, we were heading towards disaster.
Then Arnon Singer arrived, and the change was immediate. Arnon is one of those people who gives more than he takes. He works all the time, tells stories, notices what needs to be done and trusts people enough to let them become useful. He did not teach by standing over us or reminding us that he knew more. He showed us, explained things and then allowed us to do them. The atmosphere changed so dramatically that it felt like a different journey. He did not only teach us more about sailing. He saved our joy for it.
Dana responded to that trust immediately. She became good at reading the charts and saw hazards quickly. She learned anchoring and took part in almost every practical job aboard. The more responsibility she was given, the happier she became. This is something I have seen in her many times before. She wants to be needed for real. She does not want a pretend job made for a child. Give her something which matters and she grows into it.
Eva is different. Because of her eyesight and her personality, she cannot always take part in the same way as Dana. Arnon understood that without making a big thing of it. He played backgammon with her. They talked and read poetry. Slowly she became more talkative, smiled more and looked genuinely happy with where she was.
By the final days, all three of us saw Arnon as a great friend. We were tired, and he was tired too, because sailing like this demands a lot from everyone, but we were very satisfied. The girls did not really want to go home. They had enjoyed the islands, the swimming, the ice cream, the boat and being together. Home meant school again and, for Dana, football. She wants to return to football, but she is worried that three weeks away has made her lose all her skills. I do not think three weeks can remove what she has built over years, but I understand the worry.
The Turtle
A few days before the night sail, we were anchored in a cove at Skintos Bay on Dokos. The weather was expected to become worse and there were several other boats around us. We needed to know that our anchor was properly set in sand, not lying uselessly in seagrass. We also needed to make sure that we had not dropped it across another boat’s anchor chain. If another boat leaves and pulls your anchor up with its own, the consequences can be serious.
I put on my mask and snorkel and swam out. I was not diving deep, just swimming on the surface with my head and body beneath the water, looking for the chain and trying to see where the anchor had landed. Then a turtle came almost directly underneath me. My first thought was simply: Wow, this is beautiful.
It moved faster than I could, but it appeared slow because it was so calm. It looked peaceful, almost like a Buddhist monk in some other state of focus which I would like to have. It seemed completely satisfied with life. More than that, it looked as though it knew exactly where it was going. It passed beneath me and continued away at an angle towards the other side of the cove. For a moment I wanted to follow it, but I did not. I had a job to do. I needed to check the anchor.
I have thought about that turtle many times since. I do not want to turn it into a complicated symbol or claim that it delivered some great message. It was a turtle swimming through a Greek cove. But it possessed something I still seem to be looking for. Direction and peace at the same time. I am not sure I have ever known where I was going with the certainty that turtle appeared to have.
I do not know what it means. Perhaps nothing. I only know that for those two hours at the wheel around Aegina, I thought about little else. I did not know where sailing would lead me in the coming years, but I knew what required my attention. The course, the depth, the engine, the coastline, the fishing boats, the girls behind me and Arnon beside me.
When we reached Agia Marina, we dropped the anchor in darkness. We could not see whether it landed in sand or grass. It caught immediately and held perfectly until morning. The engine stopped, the job was done, and I felt fulfilled and exhausted at the same time.
He Was Right
This journey would never have happened without Jeff Willner. When we crossed the English Channel with Defender X, he saw that I was not comfortable with the sea. He is also worried that mountaineering may eventually kill me and wanted to turn some of my attention towards sailing. He believed it could also become useful during the upcoming Defender X expedition from Singapore to Australia.
Jeff has more extraordinary visions than any other person I know. I did not resist this one. He was right. I fell in love with sailing.
Going Home
I am writing this at the airport. We are travelling home through Istanbul because I asked Eva to find inexpensive tickets and she did exactly that. It will be a long journey, but she solved the problem. We are tired, sunburned and still have the taste of salt in our mouths.
I do not know exactly where sailing will take us next. Boats are expensive. I am still a beginner, and three good weeks do not make anybody a sailor. But I can imagine owning a boat. I can imagine continuing to learn with the girls until we can handle one properly ourselves. I can imagine expeditions and polar passages. For the first time, these no longer feel like other people’s stories.
I am not as certain as the turtle appeared to be, but I would like to follow.
Ithaca has been read to me by my wife sooooo many times.
Beautiful place. Beautiful poem. All just perfect.
Very cool fun sail around Aegina!