Approaching Gibraltar with no navigational lights, radar or chart plotter, I chose life over money. I’ll hug my family and see my granddaughter on my lap again.” The next day, he sent me a personal email saying how sorry he was, how he couldn’t stop crying. Wow. I immediately empathized with what he must have felt before stepping off Varuna’s deck onto the ship and leaving her behind. I didn’t press for more information and offered condolences. Then, it hit me. Tony had been the last one to see something that had been incredibly dear to me for twoand-a-half very intense years together. One of the stages of grief is anger, and as wasteful an emotion it can be, I definitely felt some. At 18, 19 and 20, with all of life before me, I’d stuck with her, often without engine, always without any electronics. How could he, a grandfather with most of life behind him, just let her go? As time restored common sense and compassion, I wondered if Tony had inserted the companionway slats before leaving. Had he shut the seacocks—even though you’re supposed to scuttle abandoned boats so they don’t menace others? Had he left up any sail? What were her chances of survival? The rallies heading
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to the Canaries from all points in Europe were getting underway, somebody could find her. I sent the news to an acquaintance with an active blog and Facebook presence, and word rapidly spread throughout the sailing community. Not much else to do. It’s like hearing somebody you once loved fiercely has disappeared into the wilderness. Even if you never, or rarely, keep in touch, just knowing they are out there somewhere findable is a mooring to your heart. When they disappear, a line is cut, your heart is broken. In the end, Sam’s comment to me is simplest and truest: “Varuna had a good life and served both you and me well. My adventures with her are ones that I will never forget.” I write the story I want for her. She is drifting gently onto a beach somewhere, or floating along gamely until a Portuguese, Madeiran, or Moroccan fisherman finds her, climbs aboard and takes over the helm. Could have already happened by now. If so, who is her new master, and will they ever figure out her amazing past? Or, will she just become a mysterious and wonderful gift from the sea? All I can do is wonder and never let go of hope that it isn’t truly the end, but the beginning of another story with a happy ending. Hope for the best.
Cruising Outpost 35 11/6/17 11:57 AM