Holiday: Defined.

ser·en·dip·i·ty/ˌserənˈdipitē/

Noun:

The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way: "a fortunate stroke of serendipity".

hol·i·day/ˈhäliˌdā/

Noun:

A day of festivity or recreation when no work is done.

grat·i·tude/ˈgratəˌt(y)o͞od/

Noun:

The quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.

It is my hope, from the furthest and deepest reaches of my selves, that whatever the holiday season means or doesn't or holds or doesn't or brings or doesn't- that, at the very least, a single moment can be shared, whether across moments, miles, or merely in the passing of strangers, which can serve to remind us that even in our darkest moments, even as the festivities fade and life returns to the everyday, that simply:

The world is made better with every act of kindness.

(and, if you're me, a lil' time on the water.)

May you all find your selves.  Period.

May love abound.

May we all sail true.

Cheers friends.

~Salty.


PS and for your viewing pleasure....the epic champagne FAIL of Christmas Eve 2011.  Neffy style.  Below.

Champagne FAIL!


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A Limerick for Vashon.

I have chosen to summarize the 2011 Vashon Island race, 1st in the Southern Sound Series, by partially nonsensical limerick. Enjoy!

There once was a race in South Sound

To sail Vashon the wrong way around

I was late to the boat (!)

...worthy of a demote...

But at least Kirkland's nickname was found.

PS we won.  (2nd overall.)

Go team!

Out of the Woodwork, Into the SEA...

omg.

Really?

Yes.  Really.  It's really me.

But, for realsies?

Yes, for realsies.

After a brief hiatus from the planet, I'd like to catch up on a few (oh so very much fun) regattas we've had over the last few months, beginning, of course, with Round the County.  Why?  Because someone saw an Orca whale.  It wasn't us.  It was Neptune's Car.  But still...pretty cool, right?

# of days sailing around Island County, WA (read: the San Juan Islands): 2

# of crockpots needed to feed just the Peterson brothers: 1

# of crockpots needed to feed the entire rest of the crew: 1.5

# of gnarly rope burn incidents: 1

# of huge gloves on board: 4

# of crew members experimenting with the utility of replacing foul weather gear with a dry suit: 1

# of days the dry suit lasted: 1

# of huge wind holes we picnicked in 1/4 mile from the finish to avoid winning: 1

# of wipeouts: 2. Maybe 3

 # of wipeouts that weren't any fun: BIG FAT ZERO.

And to sum it up, a lovely photo taken by Sean Trew depicting the lovely, lovely weather we were so fortunate enough to reach around some islands in:

Nefarious!

Cheers everyone!

Look, a contest!!!

This salty sailor needs a new email addy @thepinkboat.org and I think it's only appropriate that the ingenuity of my friends, family, fellow sailors and supporters lead to just the perfect designation.

Winner will have a $25 donation made to the Pink Boat in their name along with receiving something appropriately pink and fun by snail mail, because snail mail is the BEST.

Go team! Let's hear it!

My first PINK thank you.

Yep - wow.  That's pretty much all I have to say about THE pink weekend that just happened.

Since I haven't technically slept and need to unwind before being able to appropriately convey my gratitude to all those so very, very deserving of so much more than a measly thank you, I'm just going to summarize with this:

Yesterday two women battling breast cancer came down to Darwind before the race to take a photo with Sandra and I in our very pink costumes and thank us for sailing.  This was the defining moment, the single minute in a sea of many which left us completely and utterly humbled to our very cores. 

You, ladies, are the reason.  The reason to get inspired, the reason to get involved, the reason to raise money, the reason to get on a plane to San Francisco, the reason to decide to look ridiculous in a boat and sail her.

The reason to be excited, and we must be excited.  Because we need to believe that one person, one boat, one yacht club, one fleet, one sport, one city, one October day or one trip around the world- can in some way, whether ever so slightly or ever significantly, whether to pay a scientist for a day or an institute for a year, even so much as bring a smile to the face of a woman who's decided not to lose hope.  Who brought themselves out to cheer under circumstances the rest of us can easily take for granted as we get out on the water to do something we love.

Who gave a face to the cause yesterday.  Who made it real. 

So the first, and most important thank you, a million times over, is to you.  I'm sorry I don't remember your names...but I will never forget your faces.

And I would venture to guess you met a lot of people yesterday who will be hard pressed to ever step foot on a boat again without a moment of gratitude and reverence. 

Go. Fight breast cancer. WIN, dammit.

Dear Friends,

As some of you may be aware, I found Tom Watson's Pink Boat story so inspiring that I absolutely had to write about it in a previous post in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, even a single person would be equally inspired as I was and feel compelled to join in the support for such an extraordinary attempt to bring awareness and resources to the cause. Since then, Tom has graciously offered the lady skipper position to yours truly for the upcoming regatta, and I've decided a trip to San Francisco for the opportunity to drive the epitome of an inspiring boat is, well, truly an honor.

Therefore, I will be skippering the Pink Boat Darwind in the 1st annual Pink Boat Regatta on October 23rd, 2011 in San Francisco, CA. This is a charity event in which all proceeds will benefit the Breast Cancer Foundation. Buoys can be 'purchased' here for any of the participating race boats, which will improve that boat's chances of 'winning' the regatta.

This is not a joke. I, Ashley, have actually been entrusted with not crashing into Alcatraz Island.

So...we need all the help we can get. Seriously. More buoys = less actual sailing skills required.

It seemed only appropriate, despite my usual unwillingness to impose the advocacy of my own endeavors upon my friends and loved ones, that my efforts in helping to further the cause through this regatta should call on the same generosity and spirit which so often (and necessarily) builds the foundation for such a journey in the first place. To any who feel compelled to contribute by the way of a race buoy or otherwise, monetarily or not: You have my deepest gratitude.

To my sailing friends- there's still room on the boat! Join us! Be advised there is a skipper-imposed 'ridiculous and preferably over-the-top pink costumes required at all times' rule. Oh yes. But hey, if Nefarious skipper Cap'n Dan can suffer a temporary bout of insanity long enough to travel to SF and act as my crew for an exciting role reversal, pink costume notwithstanding, how bad can it be? Bad? No. Fun as hell? Absolutely.

And in the spirit of the event, the cause, and all of the really important things in life, I personally will be drawing on the courage of some very important people in my own life whose fearlessness in their fight against cancer trump racing in a silly little sailboat regatta about twenty million times over. You know who you are.

Learn more about The Pink Boat organization here: www.thepinkboat.org or help spread the word by 'liking' The Pink Boat on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ThePinkBoat.

If nothing else, please help spread the word. The only way for anyone to decide be involved in a cause helping to make a difference for the several hundred thousand women each year getting the same bad news, is to know about it.

No disrespect, Herreshoff...but Pink Boats are LEGIT.

Since, in his own words:

"There are only two colors to paint a boat, black or white, and only a fool would paint a boat black".

Allow me to disagree.  Why?  Because there's a guy named Thomas Watson with a sailboat so pink that Barbie herself would trade her landlubber existence for a life at sea, except Tom isn't into Barbie - he's into helping save lives.  And not even Cap'n Nat himself could hold a candle to that kind of rationale.

How?  Tom will be sailing solo out of Seattle on Darwind October 1st, 2013, around the world and without stopping, in the pursuit to prevent and cure breast cancer and help save the lives of hundreds of thousands of women each year through sailing.  His organization has partnered with the Breast Cancer Research Foundation with an initial goal of raising $1 million to further the cause.

The 28.5' Pearson Triton "Darwind."

Um, okay.  What?  Seriously?  Is there any way, whatsoever, anywhere, in existence, to argue with the supreme awesomeness of this?  Because I seriously doubt it.  In fact, I'm so convinced such an argument does not exist that I am willing to put money on it.  In fact, I think we should ALL put money on it!  Let's do this thing!

I met Tom in San Francisco during the Farr30 World's/Rolex big boat series at the St. Francis Yacht Club during a typical night of Nefarious debauchery & good old-fashioned camaraderie which led to my learning of Tom's crusade and upcoming journey over a fine libation at San Francisco's Marina Lounge (of course - we had to).

Needless to say, I was nothing short of truly inspired.  Every sailor (ok, or at least every sailor as crazy for it as I am) dreams of making a life pursuit out of a love for being on the water, and hearing Tom's story made me realize something else that should have been so obvious as to have struck me with the force of Neffy's boom I've come so fond of avoiding: there IS something better than doing what you love.  It's doing what you love selflessly.  It's finding a purpose which allows your own passion to shine so brightly it only makes sense to positively impact the lives of others, of complete strangers, in the process.  And Tom Watson figured out a way to make just that happen.

Tom & Darwind out for a sail.  That's a happy-sailor-on-the-water smile if I've ever seen one!

So kudos, my new friend: may your journey be a successful one.  If one man's sailing voyage can put one more dollar into the hands of a single doctor, researcher, fundraiser, survivor, patient, therapy, or anyone else sharing the common goal of improving the odds, quality of life, prognoses, or awareness of breast cancer, any cancer, or any other senseless and heinous infliction on our loved ones and our society, you will have contributed more to the cause in a single day on the water than many people will in a lifetime.

So sail on.  Go team Darwind!

A (Salty) sailor's guide to an epic weekend with no boat in sight.

Go somewhere far enough removed that time becomes irrelevant.

Make sure you're with people you enjoy the hell out of. 

If things get intense, keep your head in the boat...err...on the trail.

When the hard work is over, take a deep breath and enjoy the view.

Prepare for the elements.

When the elements leave you cold, wet, and windblown, love it anyway because you're there.

Swimming Bear Lake, Olympic National Park, WA.    

I think it's only appropriate that after a day and a half of clear skies and gorgeous views, an unexpected storm blew up through the valley from the sea (probably just dropped in to say hello) bringing some very exciting 50kt+ gusts, a generous soaking, and a substantial rainfall companion for the hike back out on Sunday. 

And coming back to a San Fran-esque southerly blowing through the Puget Sound after an amazing weekend in a beautiful place?

Priceless.

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.

Hurricane Salty.

I often think about how my life has evolved as if at some point I had decidedly, unavoidably and unalterably, opened my arms and allowed a hurricane to blow through knowing only that I would survive, but having no idea where I'd land.

And sometimes (probably more often than not) I get the feeling I'm actually still swirling around in the wind and the water, that it's become a part of me and I have welcomed it- not unknowingly, but not consciously- perhaps, merely, necessarily.

I know it was the right choice. Not any one choice in particular- the hurricane itself. The thrill. The risk. The blindness. The sense of self that came with letting myself to to the mercy of the elements while all of my pieces up until now have been abruptly whisked away to scatter and eventually find their way back to drift calmly into place.

And what, exactly, do I hope will come of all of it?

I can hope nothing and only live- except that maybe I'll find a quiet moment in my wanderings for a nonsensical smile to find it's way to me at just the right time to confuse a fellow human into one of their own. Maybe even for the first time.

In the wise words of advice from a dear friend which I have not forgotten, 'Run true my dear sailing queen- give them hell and beyond.'

And so I shall.

Self-realization #487 (in the last 3 hours.)

You know you're a salty Seattle girl when you realize those four Advils just went down with beer...but it was a Lagunitas IPA, thus allowable by any logical standards.


And it could just as easily have been noon.

How the hell did I get into this hot mess, anyway?

A riddle! Well, kind of. I just like riddles. So I'm turning it into one.

Name a single question which fits the following criteria:

It can be traced back so far as to have been the exact moment during which an epic journey began.

It can be asked to a sailor...but not a lady.

I heard it while standing at an after-party in Port Townsend, halfway through the STYC Race to the Straits doube-handed regatta, with a beer in one hand and a beer in the other, by a guy who'd realized he was 130lbs from the Farr 30 weight limit, one crew short from going to the world championships, and about to introduce himself in fine fashion using these 5 classy words.

The same question has since been circulated incessantly amongst the Neffy crew.

The circulation of same said question amongst the Neffy crew was halted abruptly at 11am on September 7th, 2011.

I know what you're thinking...but you're wrong. "Wanna get me a beer?" was said many times after Sept. 7th. Don't imagine that'll be retired anytime soon...good effort though.

Neffy goes to Portland!....Wait...What!?

Because it's all about baby steps.

Except when it's about trucks breaking down while you're trying to tow a Nefarious Farr 30 800 miles and you're on mile 150, otherwise known as "almost to Portland."

And sometimes, it's about a truck breaking down while towing Neffy, that was borrowed from a guy (thanks Jim, you're awesome!) who spends all week towing boats with it.  Much heavier boats.  Lots of them.

Case Study:  a 'for instance', if you will.

Truck & Neffy leave Seattle on Tuesday, August 23rd (early morning hour too hideous to warrant mentioning) carrying 4 people:

• Dan (skipper & purveyor of making things happen...and of lost clipboards.)
• Andy (mast man, team big brother & laundry folder extraordinaire)
• Ray (jib trimmer, most quotable of all time & AMAZING musician)
• Myself (pit girl & team cheerleader.)  I can't help it.  I just get so excited. (!!!!!)

Truck & Neffy stop for gas:

10 feet wide.  13 feet tall.  70+ feet long.  And oh so pretty.

 Hmm...truck doesn't seem to want to start...?

Luckily, this cool dude gave us a jump.  Thanks cool dude!

Whew!  Okay, onward!!  ....wait....uhh...errr...truck kicks the bucket about 20 minutes later.  No juice. (Seriously?)

Teamwork in action!

And of course, in fine Ray fashion, Ray spends about 30 seconds making phone calls to find "a guy who can solve all our problems" while Dan arranges for towing.  As in, tow trucks.  Plural.

 One for the truck...

 

....and one for Neffy, aka the 'largest and weirdest object' the tow truck driver had ever encountered.   She shall live on even by word of mouth in the Northwest towing circuit. How is that not awesome.

And speaking of awesome, not only did Ray's 'guy' actually come through and 'solve all our problems,' (Hellooooo shout-out to Northside Trucks, thank you!!!!!)  THIS place was across the street:

This is not an airport.  Think harder.  Pretty clever actually.

Alas, however, it was decided that enjoying the sun at the nearest place with sailor accommodations (read: beer and a patio) was in order and at the end of the day, it was pretty difficult not to have had it be a great one albeit one with a slight (ok, pretty huge) delay.

 

Also pretty sure I'm not aware of any other way to wait for a truck repair.

There was even time to get excited about tractors, because, why not?

omgomgomg it's a tractor does everyone see the tractor it's big it's yellow it's exciting omgomgomg take our picture

Go team Neffy!

Just to pre-funk a little.

Before I delve in to the Nefarious account of our own shenanigans in San Francisco, here's a little taste of just how freaking awesome the conditions were on the Bay:

Rolex short video montage: makes my heart race, especially the awesome wipe-outs of the second half.  At exactly 3 minutes, there's a quick helicopter shot of our worst wipe-out (blue spinnaker.) Wooo!





Not to mention excellent (read: holy photographer skills, Batman!) photos taken by Meredith Block throughout the entire Farr 30 world's.  Amazing photos.  Seriously.  Here's an example:

One of my favorites...breathtaking!

And here's the link: 
Media Photos from the Farr 30 World's

Hot Russian Visits Seattle.

Seriously, you can't tell me this is one damn fine sexy ship.  She even came packed full of hot Russian sailors in official hot Russian sailor garb.  The 354ft long tall ship "Pallada" is named for the Greek goddess of wisdom Pallas Athena.  Like I said.  Sexy.  Oh and she's the fastest sailing ship in the world.  Right.  18 knots.  Eat your heart out.

So cool.

Built in the 1980's in Poland and operates as a sail training ship with a crew of about 200 cadets and teachers.

Note aforementioned garb donned by sailor on the left. 

Tall ship?  Where?  In Seattle?!  On the waterfront?  Are you sure?!  So awesome.

The Prologue.

Rule of Thumb:

When asked, "Would you be interested in competing in a world championship?" (While doing something you love?)

The answer, is always, yes.  Yes!

YES.

Because, seriously, the inability to answer as such would likely result in my own inability to relate to an individual on any level pertaining to the length of our time on the planet versus the amount of fun things that can be squeezed into it.

Maybe it's only fitting that this is the year my life turned upside down.  The year I threw caution to the wind and decided to just be myself.  To question everything and assume nothing.  To live with intent yet without expectations.  It's a process- isn't it always?   So in essence, perhaps it's every bit as much about allowing space for things that really matter, sometimes beyond rhyme or reason, as it is about sailing.

Except, of course, it is about sailing.  It's the part of yourself that stays on the water which you just can't seem to figure out how to take with you when stepping off onto the dock.  It's not the fairweather sailor in all of us- it's the foulweather sailor in a few of us.  I'm learning.  Slowly.  Surely.

I digress.  Again.  (Shocking, I know.)

My point is this:  sometimes, when you're pretty sure you have a passion in life, something happens to solidify it in such a way that it becomes unquestionably real and equally as profound.  For me, it happened in the last three weeks, on a Farr 30 named Nefarious, on the San Francisco Bay, with a bunch of ridiculously awesome people who figured out a loooong time before I did there's nothing like racing a sailboat.  I'd like to share it here.  I'll do my best.

Showin' some love to the (spotless) girl.  Our skipper's level of impeccable upkeep is inspiring. 

(and speaking of serendipity, in particular...)

Came home from the 2011 Farr 30 North American Championship on the San Francisco Bay to this handy reminder that exactly one year ago, it was a dream of mine that I could not have imagined would be realized so soon, and under such extraordinary circumstances.  Go team Neffy!

Hi Friends!

Ahhh....the virgin post.  A blank slate of endless wordsmithery potential.

I started this blog because I've come to realize that sailing, and racing in particular, is not for everyone.

Concomitantly,  it IS.  For.  Me.

Yesterday, I arrived back home to Seattle after competing in the 2011 Far 30 world championships in San Francisco, CA.  I walked back into my world with the exhilaration and thrill of having just officially advanced my confidence, ability, and enjoyment of racing to a level beyond my own imagination- not to mention having an entire week to learn from the best sailors in the world, including a lesson in good sportsmanship I will never forget and can only strive to live by on and off the water.

Alas...sharing an experience like this one while being generally outnumbered by a community of people who would picture themselves on a boat with a cocktail on glassy waters, instead of finding themselves screaming for wind and speed...is nearly unachievable.  And, well, totally understandable in the same way I have no desire to own a horse, or ride one with any more frequency than 'sparingly.'  (Like a sunny, windless day, for example.)

I digress.  Therefore, my only solution is a medium through which my audience is everyone or no one, the few and feverish or the curious masses, the laymen or the experts (of which I am not), the sailors and the skeptics.

Welcome.  Onward.