The brutal crisis of the coronavirus is precipitating us into a paradoxical time. Urgent need to stop the virus on the one hand, suspension of social time on the other. The urgency forces us to slow down. But isn't slowness precisely what many of us are looking for when we go on a cruise (and not a crusade)?
Calm, serene..
Relief is immediate. The sailboat settles to the rhythm of the elements. The strength of the wind, the frequency of the swell and the chop are the masters of our progress. All we have to do is let ourselves be carried along, to taste the sensations offered: the rustle of the water along the hull, the gurgling of the sinks, the cries of the terns, the freshness of the wind on our cheeks, the blinding glow of the sun. The weather no longer matters. We'll rest when we get to Tacoma Harbour.
Contemplative..
The time regained is also that of observation. Gradually our gaze becomes sharper. Marine life is revealed in small touches. A school of dolphins plays on the starboard side. A jet rises to half a mile: a sperm whale! The terns protest as we play with the counter-currents at the coast too close to their territory. A cormorant spreads its wings on a rock.
Tamed..
Our living space has increased while our speed has decreased. These creeks very close to the port, these small forgotten anchorages, these islands a little difficult to access attract our curiosity. We come back to them again and again. So like the Little Prince and the Fox, we end up getting to know some islanders, owners of bistros, Sunday fishermen, always the same ones at the end of the quay whom we greet by their first names.
Elegant..
Slower is cheaper. Our second hand sails are a bit hollow and the hull design is a bit dated. The access to the dead body is less easy than to the pontoon. But it doesn't matter about the wine as long as we're drunk! On the sea, old and slow rhymes with beautiful and elegant. The old rigging makes us all dream. A well restored Sangria too!
Quietly..
The ecology is finally so much better. The praise of slowness dispenses us from renewing our somewhat old, but still robust equipment. We'll barely crack for a few modern fibres when our halyards give up the ghost, or even a more powerful winch because our backs are more fragile... The calm calm invites us to daydream and excuses our delay at the family dinner. We didn't put the engine on: it pollutes too much!
