Chainsaws and teddy bears!!!...this one's for Ray.

Raymond John: Musician extraordinaire except in his own humble opinion (Seriously- check out the band!), rigger, sailor, smile-inducing, hilariously quotable, multifaceted individual and crew member...and true friend to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude for sharing something very special with me that I'll never forget.

Until our Nefarious journey South my Seattle-appropriate foul weather gear included a set of rain pants from the little kids' section at REI, among other things. It was a hodge-podge assemblage of inexpensive goods that I had been using to get by with for quite some time with the help of those nifty chemical handwarmers I've come to love (and rely on in my boots, omg they're so freaking awesome) so much.

Ray, having been sailing just a little bit longer than I, had the foresight to assume my current garb may not be necessarily appropriate for the famous winds of the San Francisco Bay, and kindly offered up an entire collection of foul weather gear which happened to A) be in his possession, B) fit me perfectly, and C) had belonged to his little sister, whom I hadn't ever the chance to meet, who also worked pit, and whose memory lives and shines so brightly in Ray's eyes he could steer a ship home through the night from across the Pacific.

So, right. They're just foulies. I get it. But it wasn't. They weren't. They're not. Losing a fellow sailor, a sibling, and a best friend in one fell swoop is unimaginable. I knew every thread meant a fond memory to Ray, and his generosity meant something to me beyond the stretch of my own vocabulary to properly express.

It's pretty great to be dry.

I wore them all the way through the Farr 30 North Americans/Aldo Alessio and into the Pre-Worlds of the World Championship. It was as if I had started this journey a caterpillar in a cocoon of legacy, and together we traveled to the next level while I came into my own.

The first day of the world championship, I bought my own set of gear before leaving the dock in the morning. It felt right. I had drawn on the courage and strength of something much bigger during a period of naïveté and growth to wake up that morning feeling a gentle shove. I had been carried this far- it was up to me to do the carrying now.

I had emerged. I was winged. And I'll carry the memory on the water with me every time.

So, Ray- thank you.