One — The Beginning of a Dream, 1990

My fortune cookie said, "Great adventures await those willing to turn the corner." When I read those words, I got a chill and knew something was up. It wasn't that I was a strong believer in destiny. Oh, I wanted to believe, but I had never seen it played out in my life. I never had desired anything so badly that I just knew it was to be. That kind of experience seemed beyond me, and my routine life. That was for bigger lives than mine. So imagine my surprise. Destiny was about to take my hand — and whether it was to gently nudge me in a certain direction or shake me until I cried — when destiny called, there was no turning back.

I’ll set the scene. I was single, having divorced many years ago and raised my three children (two daughters and a son) as a single parent. One marriage was enough for me. It had left me sad and very skeptical about marriage in general, and me and marriage in particular. So I was content to be alone, go my way with my children, have a man friend here and there — I liked men, just not men and marriage — but stay "safe" and single.

One day my whole world changed — just like that. The children were adults and on their own. I was in a successful career, and fairly happy (at least resigned). On business in West Texas, I was driving down the freeway on the vast, flat prairie, with my eyes on the road and my mind on "blank." Out of nowhere, a voice said to me, "You are going to buy a boat and sail around the world." I know the voice came from my head, but it wasn't my voice. It was someone else, I am absolutely sure of that. Before I could even think, "Where did that come from?," another part of me just said, "Yes," and my fate was sealed. Whose voice was it? I don't know, but it was a voice of authority, and it was as if each cell in my body joined my spirit and just breathed, "Yes," in unison.

All these years later, I can report I've never again had that experience. I've had ideas since, but usually spent hours or days arguing back and forth on the pros and cons until my head hurt. That's my usual way. Oh, how I wish I could have that perfect voice again. That perfect voice takes all decision-making away. No waffling, should I do this or should I do that. The only decision I had to make was how to do it, not if to do it. So the big question — what do to with the rest of my life — was gone. Now it was a series of little problems to solve. I know other people have experienced this "destiny calling" business, and now I understand. No questions about the rightness, only questions about how. For a person always filled with anxiety about the future, this was a Godsend. Of course now, years later, mission accomplished, I have to go back to, "What to do with the rest of my life." I'd really like to hear that voice again.

Let me be very clear here — I'm no kook. Er, well at least I wasn't before the voice came into my life, and gave me this very strange mission. And I don’t think it was God, but who else could it be? No wait, I do think it was God, but that sounds far-fetched and impossible to me, and much too arrogant. And too infinitely wondrous and wonderful for an ordinary woman like me. I won’t try to convince you, because if someone had told me this story, I would have wondered what kind of interesting pills they were taking. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions, but trust me, that is the way it happened.

I can't think of anything special about me that would explain that strange happening, or why the forces of destiny would pick me to ply their cosmic antics. But they did and there must be something — some sort of "lightning rod" that they were attracted to. Sure, I was a dreamer, always had been. I think lonely young girls often live in their imagination. Years ago, as a teen in Seattle, I could see myself on a South Sea Island. I used to stand on the bluff near our house, overlooking Puget Sound, and watch the ships leave port to make their way out to the Pacific Ocean and know they were heading for exotic places. In those days (the 1950's), you could read the daily paper and find out what ships were leaving and where they were going! Pago-Pago conjured up images of adventure and derring-do any time I even said the name. Actually, it still does. I haven't changed much. I could see myself standing on the deck of a tramp steamer, heading off to God-knows-where, strong and willing to meet adventure head on. I just knew in my ideal world, when it was time to check out, it should be in a gale in the wicked Tasman Sea or fighting pirates off the coast of Java. Not in some hospital with tubes and needles and a slow fading away, as my mother did at a young age. But I also knew them for what they were — daydreams. I've never been brave, for my early life had created a person beset with low-grade anxiety and extra caution. So, I was a great dreamer, but in real life, I was an average person, struggling with my life as best I could.

From the moment of my "assignment," my focus was the circumnavigation. I immediately took sailing lessons. And miracle of miracles, I loved it! I didn't instinctively become "one with the wind," but I knew that this was the life for me. It all made perfect sense. Oh, did I mention I had never even been on a sailboat before my lessons? So why this sailing assignment? Another, "I don't know."

I have never had a great amount of confidence and would usually be hesitant in trying new things, in case I might fail. But knowing that this had to be done gave me more courage than I normally had. Even though my mantra was, "Don't screw this up," I felt more daring than ever before, and slightly reckless. I was an eager student and always tried, and sometimes I did it right. Sometimes I didn't, but I was learning to sail. Pat, my sailing instructor, was luckily, a woman, and a skilled instructor, and soon, a good friend. She didn't even bat a skeptical eyelash when I told her why I was there. Wow! Others were maybe not so accepting, but when you're on a "mission from God" as I fondly called the voice, for want of a better identification (remember the movie, The Blues Brothers?), you can really develop a thick skin to other people’s skepticism. And my children had long before come to realize that I had the potential to be pretty quirky in many ways, so they took it all in stride. And this was pretty quirky.

I read every book I could get my hands on regarding choosing a boat for offshore and every sailing magazine. I even read technical magazines and pretended I understood or was interested in their mathematical formulas for calculating this and that. The best books were those about other people who have already done the circle. They fed my desire and belief in what could be. Now I had a mental canvas on which to draw my own dreams.

The months went by, I sailed with a club each weekend, talked to anyone who would respond with advice about what boat to get. It was soon apparent that for every person answering me, there was a very strong opinion. All different. Whew, sailors are an opinionated bunch. I knew I’d fit right in!

I had only a little money saved, so I knew it would have to be an older boat, and it would take some work to fix it up as I could. I still hadn't figured out how to finance this mission, but one step at a time. I knew it would all come about because otherwise, why the voice? But that doesn't mean I didn't cry alone, wondering how I could do something so daunting and difficult, and brave.

Every weekend I'd be walking the docks in the Clear Lake marina area, south of Houston, Texas, and the nearest yachting center. I looked at every boat advertised that might fit my needs. I talked to all the brokers I could, and with only one exception, they all said the same thing "Why don't you get a nice bay boat and try it, then if you like it you can always buy another." More than once I heard, "You know, little lady (they actually say that in Texas), for every 10,000 who say they will sail around the world, only one does." Half the time I was mad, but they only strengthened my determination to go. And besides, I had a secret weapon — my destiny. I did try to glean some solid knowledge from them as I searched, but no matter what, I steadfastly kept to my mission.

I ended up finding just the right boat. An Allied Seawind — 32 feet, full keel, ketch rig, something I could handle alone. Yes, at that time I figured I would be alone. And because I knew so little about sailing, alone didn't seem impossible for me. This one was an older boat, but solid, and the things that needed to be done were things that I could handle. I found the boat through a friend of a friend. It was not officially for sale. Someone had heard that the owner might want to sell it.

The first time I looked at it, the owner had just finished installing a new water tank and also a new cabin sole. When I asked what he wanted for it, it seemed like it was a pretty high price for such an old boat that still needed lots of upgrades. He sounded very firm, but I told him I would have to think about it. At the time, the interior was all torn up, and though I could sort of see through the sawdust, I was too new at this to really see through the sawdust. So I looked around a bit more, and all the while this boat was on my mind. This was a boat that could sail around the world. I finally admitted it. I WANTED THAT BOAT. When I called back ten days later, he had raised the price another $3,000. "I have put more work into it, so it's worth more now." Rats, it was that take-it or leave-it tone of voice. I don't know what negotiations could have been pursued, but I was already hooked and helpless. Already tied to this boat, I said OK, and the deed was done.

Oh, heaven. Anyone who has bought a sailboat knows the adoration, excitement and dreams that are attached to that piece of floating fiberglass, and I was no different. My dream had only been growing for two years at that time, but it had sprung full-blown, so it was as if it had been there all my life. I named her ALEXANDRA; to me a name that holds all the adventure, romance and glory of my destiny in one word. ALEXANDRA!

When I bought ALEXANDRA, I traveled frequently with my job, and it slowed down any work on the boat. Also, though the pre-purchase survey told me what needed to be done, I had no idea how to do it. Every project, no matter how small, required that I first read a book that explained what to do, then ask neighbors and friends lots of questions, then decide whether I could do it myself or have it hired out. Like most sailors, money was an object, so it was slow going. The first time I put in an electrical outlet on my own, I was feeling quite accomplished (I’m pretty sure I did it right). But I didn't try anything that might impact the structural integrity of the boat. Replacing the dry-rotted support for the mizzen mast went to someone who knew what they were doing.

Next I went really crazy and moved on board. Ah, the feeling of coziness and warmth. The smallness made it feel like a nest. I still love that feeling. A cocoon, bundling, the womb. Probably very Freudian, but there you are.

As time went on, another strange thing happened. I didn't want to be alone any more. Damn, now that was a new feeling. I had been single for almost 20 years, content in that status. When a man wanted to get serious, I said goodbye, never wanting to give up my freedom. I had one strangling marriage and that was enough for this lifetime! So now, at the age of 49, when the pool of available men was growing smaller, I finally decided that it was time for a partner again. Oh great, what was that famous so-called statistic? It is more likely to be struck by lightning than for a woman to marry after 40. When I finally want a partner, getting hit by a lightning bolt would be easier!

I had been lamenting the fact that I was meeting less and less single men, and someone suggested a dating service or a singles ad. I blanched at the thought of either; after all, I had seen Looking for Mr. Goodbar and Sea of Love and wasn't about to be murdered by a psycho! Maybe other people have had good experiences with both, but it just didn't feel right. Then one day I had a brainstorm — hey, take it one step further. Why not put an ad in Cruising World magazine? There I would meet only people interested in sailing, I could specify exactly what I wanted, and if there was no one out there like that, then I would know it right away. If there was someone, maybe fortune would smile on me. Since the partner business wasn't in my "message from God," I didn't have the same confidence on this tactic. But surely no sailor could be a psychopath. Naive me, I have since learned differently, but that's another story.

My brainstorm occurred at lunch time at work and I called my oldest daughter, Alecia, who is not only my daughter, but is also one of my best friends, and told her about it. She said, "Go for it, Mom." I called Cruising World magazine. They told me to fax my ad in that day as they were setting up the issue to be published in two months time, and that very day was the deadline. OK, here goes - "Attractive 49 y/o lady sailor is seeking a SWM of same generation as friend/possible permanent partner, for cruising future and beyond. The oceans are waiting. I don't want to go alone!" I didn't use the "m" word. I still wasn't sure marriage was what I wanted. I signed it, "Alexandra." It was done before I knew it and when all was settled, I gulped, hoped I wasn't too nuts, and forgot about it.

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