After the rain – the wind changed. We woke up facing the wrong way, Quest’s bow was pointing out to sea, cockpit facing the shore. Our first wind reversal this year.
Exciting. We know too we’ve been here awhile when we’ve hit the next season’s wind reversals. It wasn’t a bad reversal either – just enough lightning to push some people from their mooring buoys and into the marina. We watched the usual suspects go. They’re the boats who don’t like the reversals.
We checked our mooring lines, locked the cupboards and the back transom gate – and held tight. Perhaps this is an advantage of being here for so long. We didn’t smell a bad one coming. I mean, not like the one last November when a reversal slammed into us with a righteous force. This time, we had one eye on the lightning and another enjoying the sound of the dripping rain. It felt too quiet to be serious.
Similarly, I was talking to Bonnie on Monday about a clothes shop in town, Penny Lane. We mentioned how the shop has now moved and I caught myself like I’d just smacked into a lamppost. I know which shop has moved. We’ve been here that long. It was a nice feeling. I think this is because I’m not much of a traveller – which is a bit unfortunate for writing a travel blog. I love getting to know a place; really getting to know it.
But the seasons are doing what we’ve been waiting for. They’re changing. And we have been waiting. My mum asked me tonight, ‘Are you a nervous about crossing the Atlantic?’
Of course the answer is yes. Even if I didn’t tell my mum. Sorry, Mum. I am a little nervous. We haven’t sailed Quest since the pandemic to feel so familiar with her galloping, which Quest normally loves to do. And we haven’t tested stuff which we probably need to test before we go. You know, the flappy stuff. Jack will scowl at me now. Ok, ok. Everything is good. Stop worrying, Hannah.
There is another thing which is getting me through these nerves though. It is this: I don’t care how many oceans I have to cross at the speed of a mobility scooter to get home. No Atlantic, no ocean, no Covid this year is going to stop us. We are going home.
I might like the feeling of familiarity, I really do. During this trip, I never really wanted to go home before. I don’t know why. Maybe I didn’t feel ready. There were still things to do here, to learn and to discover.
Now, things have been so restricted with the pandemic for so long, and there have been unfamiliar issues to worry about, like the small problem of getting sick, or being welcomed back into our own country. Going home has never felt so good. No ocean is going to stop us. Not anymore. I’m coming home. Mamusia.