Teresa is a fellow sailor. She and her Norsea 27, s/v Daphne are headed south, with the eventual destination of the Virgin Islands. She’s been in the press a before, like this A Landlubber’s Guide to Sailing in the Martha Vineyard Times, but this article in The Leader and Kalaskian is about her and her alone. It’s her hometown paper, and a nice tribute to a fellow sailor. Here are Teresa’s words, from the article:
FIRST WIND
This is the first installment of an open-ended series featuring Kalkaska’s Teresa Carey as she sails solo toward the Virgin Islands.
My father and mother took me sailing every day in the summer. A Ranger 23 named Applerush was the vessel and East Grand Traverse Bay was my playground.
Every day, when my parents returned from work, my sisters and I would pile into the station wagon.
“How about some Rock and Roll!” Dad would say and turn up the volume as we bounced toward Lake Michigan, stopping once to pick up a few sodas and Slim Jims.
On the boat, I spent my time dipping my feet in the waves, coloring, or playing with my doll. But with age came an interest in the deeper workings of a sailing vessel. Of wind and sail. Of wave and hull. Of the history, lore, and allure of the ocean.
Daddy taught me the skills and Mother encouraged me to dream big. So, years ago, dissatisfied with a conventional way of life, I took mother’s advice and began dreaming big…or small rather.
I dreamed of boats and tiny spaces. I dreamed of living with few possessions and wanting even less. I lived in tents, cars, closets and canoes always with the thought that someday I would live on a NorSea 27, the boat my father began telling me about very early on.
Backpacking, rock climbing, sailing and farming were all ways I nurtured the idea that I could retreat from being encultured in one way of life, and join a movement toward a different way of life.
There was mention of a NorSea for sale on a sailor’s online forum. It was a Monday in April of last year, and I inquired immediately. On Tuesday I applied for a loan. On Wednesday I purchased the boat. On Saturday I went to look at it.
And boy was it small! The pictures made it look much, much bigger. But here I was, with an ocean-crossing boat and a lubberly job in the mountains. So, naturally, I left my job and apartment, sold my car and many of my belongings and moved myself and Dory — the cat — aboard with the plan to someday sail across the ocean.
Was it impulsive? It sure was. But so is sailing across the ocean. No amount of planning will fully inform and prepare even the most skillful sailor for a journey like that. So, in that sense, perhaps my impulsiveness is suited toward this way of life.
The life of simplicity and freedom I dreamed about was struck with a dose of reality when I suddenly found myself firmly aground in boat payments, jobless and adrift in a down-turned economy.
It isn’t as perfect as I had pictured it to be. And so, until the day comes when I can truly cast my lines, bound for foreign ports, I stay close to home as I work and save with my eyes set on that larger goal. Right now, home is the entire east coast, and work comes and goes as I wander south.
Since the purchase of my NorSea 27, named Daphne after my grandmother, I’ve dropped my anchor in more than forty different locations.
At some I stayed only for one night. Other locations were my home for many months as I worked to pad the kitty for the next venture. I’ve seen the beauty and tranquility of a red sky at dusk, calm waters, and a gentle breeze. I’ve spent days worried over an approaching hurricane.
Where should I anchor? Will I be safe? Will it make landfall?
I’ve met sailors with grand stories to tell, all the while making a personal history which in time will spin a yarn full of adventure and surprise.
Today? I’ll stay here in Norfolk, Virginia for a few days, wait for good weather and continue my migration south with the birds.
If you want to follow her adventures, I’d recommend you read her blog, Sailing Simplicity.