7/18 - 7/21 長日漫漫 A long, long day

艙外，雨下了一整天。艙內，我舒服的躺在床上，聽著Rob播放的崔健「一無所有」專輯。回憶一下被帶回大學，我們談著因崔健歌聲被勾起的回憶。湖上持續稍開的水穩定的咕嚕咕嚕輕響著，生普洱的香味瀰漫在空中。

慵懶而美好的一天。
誰也沒想到十幾小時之前，我瀕臨此行最挫折的時刻，我放聲大哭，什麼都不在乎，只想回家。

其實昨天一開始就如同之前所有航行的每一日一般，我們以靜坐做為一天的開始，在享受一小時的早餐與喝茶時光。航行也因我們開始2小時輪流航行制變得較為輕鬆，直到轉向拉馬水道。

風以大約每小時25公里的速度吹來，正是適合我自我挑戰的速度。以我的重量，我得使盡大部分力氣握住舵柄，抵抗強風將船吹往風來的方向。而生平第一次在這種風速逆風轉舵則真是驚心動魄。我想從遠處看，我大概像在練習武術：腳往後伸長後勾住舵柄，用力將其定向，同時趁著風勢將船一側緊纏在絞盤上的前帆索鬆開，迅速移至另一側將前帆索再度絞緊。

「自找麻煩！」我暗罵自己。Rob在艙內適時給我引導和指示，我可聽見自己狂亂心跳與沈重呼吸的聲音。才一次轉舵我就感到精疲力竭。我害怕讓船失速失控。這艘船在這樣的風之下對我來說仍感到龐大。

我再練習了二次，希望掌握住風的節奏，但是繩索到處纏繞，船轉彎太多而失去航行效率，以及得死命絞緊帆索的劇碼仍不斷上演。終於，我的值班時間結束，我暗自鬆了一口氣，但我們也已經接近停泊處─新奇灣。

新奇灣並不大。進入時我們發現已有二艘船停靠。Rob操縱著大前帆在灣內巡航格外困難。他希望我快些找到下錨點，我卻怎麼也看不出能給予我們合理的旋轉空間的下錨點。

大前帆因地形風向不穩而批哩啪啦作響，灣內船上的人不解的看著我們像無頭蒼蠅般一圈一圈在他們身邊繞。我挫折於自己找不出好的下錨點，心裡暗自埋怨Rob要以帆入灣，卻又不願先低頭要求開啟引擎；Rob挫折於大前帆的操縱不易，以及被船友當馬戲看。二人之間緊張指數急遽攀升。

最後，我們繞出灣口，決定在較不受地形保護，水深也較深處下錨。錨繩放出，船一轉彎，我們幾乎撞倒岸邊！在二人精疲力竭情況下，我怪罪Rob太早轉彎，他說我太晚下錨….二人都沮喪、挫折到極點。

在提起精神、仔細研判海圖之後，我們確定灣內空間不足夠讓我們有安全旋轉範圍。「此地不留船、自有留船處」。我們升起主、前帆，拉起船錨，收回對彼此的責備與怨懟，航向下一個可停泊灣口。

我們努力自我安慰與鼓勵，但是心中都疲累而受傷。半小時後，我們進入第二個停泊點─艾達灣。灣內空 無一人，讓我們大為寬心。我們繞了二圈確認下錨點（其實我好想開動引擎，下錨會容易許多！但是我的好強讓我就是不願服輸）。在丟下船錨時，錨繩突然首次莫名卡住。船錨卻已經鉤住灣底，我們進退二難。我不做多想立刻跑入艙內，奮力推開剛降下堆擠在艙首的大前帆，打開錨繩儲存的艙門，鑽進充滿海草味與泥巴的狹小空間拯救錨繩。

灰頭土臉的返回甲板，Rob仍持續與帆奮鬥。我們再次轉身出灣，儲備足夠動力返回再次下錨。我告訴Rob我真的受夠了，奮力忍住眼淚（不能不爭氣啊！）。錨繩迅速而平順下降，我們成功的下錨。接著，我拉住小前帆，等待將其降下。Rob神情緊張的跑到船首，急切的表示我拉住小前帆使其充滿風，讓船再度有動力前進，或許因此已經把船錨鬆開了，他不曉得現在我們的錨是否穩固。

就像壓垮駱駝的最後一根稻草，我再也承受不住任何新事件發生。我只想結束一天，真的真的受夠這一切了。我坐在甲板，放聲大哭….

灣內二隻海豹好奇的探頭探腦，灣外橘紅的晚霞映在灣口處二個並倚的小島。在如此絕望的心境之下，我完全無心觀賞，一切都令我厭惡。

然而，在一整天的休息之後，雖然雙眼仍然浮腫，但又開始得以享受生活了。在茶香中，我們重新檢視昨天的歷程。我看到了自己的極限，瞭解好強有時遮掩了內心真實的需要。我也看到自己的復原能力，再度回到我們的旅程。

[translation]

Outside it rained all day. Inside the boat, I laid comfortably on and then heard Cui Jian's “Nothing to My Name” come from Rob's computer. It took me right back to my university years. We talked about the memories his music brought up. The water kettle chattered on the stove and the air was filled with the smell of green puer tea.

It was a beautiful, lazy day.

It hardly seemed possible that only a dozen hours before I had faced a moment of great frustration and cried such tears of anguish that I didn't care about anything any more. I simply wanted to go home.

Actually, yesterday started out like any every other day of sailing. We got up, did our morning meditation, and spent an hour or so over breakfast and tea. Since we have begun taking 2 hour shifts in sailing, we're each getting more rest and the sailing is more relaxed. But that all changed when we turned into Lama Passage.

The wind was about 15 knots, it was the perfect challenge to advance my single-handing. With the genoa up and my small stature, I had use all of my strength to keep the boat from rounding up into the wind. This was the first time I've ever tried to tack single-handed into so much wind. I was incredibly nervous. From a distance, it probably looked like I was practicing some sort of kung fu. My leg was stuck out behind me to push the tiller. My hands were reaching forward to first loose one geno sheet and then pull tight the other as the boat came through the wind.

I scolded myself for seeking my own trouble. Rob was inside the cabin giving me directions. But mostly I heard my own heart pounding and my breathe rushing in and out of my lungs. After a single tack, I was exhausted. I was afraid of losing control of the boat and of losing boat speed while head to wind. In this sort of wind, this boat feels really big to me.

As I practiced tacking the second time, I was hoping to be better in tune timing my tack through the wind, but I got my lines tangled, the boat turned to far and I lost control of it direction. But I still had to play my role and tighten the lines and regain steerage. Finally, my shift came to and end. I breathed a silent sigh of relief, but didn't get much break as it was time to enter our anchorage.

Fancy Cove is not big. We found three boats already in the anchorage. Rob single-handed the boat, but the wind was up and the large genoa was a lot to handle in a small space (Rob's note: To change or not change the sail? Sometimes we choose well...). He was hoping to get the anchor down quickly, but I couldn't find a spot that seemed to have enough swinging room.

The genoa rattled in the wind as the land-contorted winds shifted about the boat. People on the other boats watched in astonishment as we circled the harbor like headless flies. I was frustrated that I couldn't find anywhere to drop the anchor. I cursed Rob's desire to enter the harbor under sail, but I wasn't about to lower my head and ask him to start the engine. Rob was frustrated that he hadn't put on the smaller jib. He felt like a circus clown wrestling with the genoa in these shifty bluster conditions. The tension between us built rapidly.

In the end, we dropped the anchor in the entrance channel of the cove, giving up the greater wind protection of the inner cove, and decided to live with the added hassle of dropping our anchor in deep water. As I paid out anchor rode, we came right up against the shore, nearly hitting bottom. I blamed Rob for turning to early. He said I dropped the anchor too late... We were both sad, angry, and frustrated.

After taking time to regain ourselves, we looked at situation carefully and reviewed the chart. It became very clear, there was no room for us in this cove, either inside or in the entrance. “Well, if this place won't hold us, some place will,” I thought. We hoisted our sails, raising the jib this time, weighed anchor and, putting aside our blame of each other, took off for our next cove.

We did our best to renew our spirits, but my heart was aching and exhausted. When we entered Ada Cove, not another soul was in the cove. What a relief. We circled a couple times to find a good spot for the anchor (I really wanted to start the engine. It's so much easier to anchor under power!). When I dropped the anchor, the rode suddenly stuck. It wouldn't come out at all. But the anchor had already bit into the bottom. Both staying or leaving suddenly became challenging. I didn't think twice, I ran below and pushed aside the genoa which now filled the forward section of our boat and opened the chain locker in the very bow of the boat. I stuck my head into the musty, muddy smelling locker to free the anchor rode.

I took my soiled self back on deck and rob sailed us around for a second attempt at anchoring. We sailed out far enough to build the momentum necessary to set our hook well. I told Rob, “I've had enough,” trying to hold back my tears (I didn't want to admit any weakness!) I dropped the anchor and this time, the rode paid out smoothly. It was a success. And then, I grabbed the corner of the jib in preparation for bringing it down. Rob came running up with an urgent expression on his face. He desperately told me that by pulling in the jib's corner I had filled the sail with wind, which turned the boat, and then filled the main with wind. We had sailed over the anchor rode and had maybe even unset the anchor. He didn't know if it was well set or not.

This was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. I couldn't take it any more. All I wanted was to end the day. I just couldn't take any more. I sat on the deck and cried.

Two curious seals stuck there heads out to look at us. Outside the cove, the orange red of sunset lit up the two islets that guard the cove's entrance. In my overwhelmed state of despair, I had no heart to look at any of this beauty. I hated all of it.

But after a full night's rest, even though my eyes were still puffy from crying, I started to take joy in life again. Surrounded by the fragrance of tea, the two of us went over the previous day's events. I saw my own limitations, and I came to understand how my desire to be strong had caused me to neglect my true real needs. I also discovered my resiliency and once again resumed our journey.