Journeying Through Memories

It has been two weeks since I left Misty behind in Mackay. The last few days were filled with various tasks such as cleaning, updating inventory, doing laundry, and organizing things for the new crew. I also took some time to plan ahead for my next steps. On the final night alone on Misty (3rd of August 2023), I found solace in the saloon, watching Netflix to distract my mind from the impending departure. I wasn't ready to reflect or accept that my time on Misty had come to an end.

Picture: final photos of Misty and a last radio call to say goodbye to the fleet

During our journey, Misty and I developed a special connection, learning about each other's strengths and weaknesses. We gradually accepted these aspects, just like good friends do. I learned to embrace Misty's occasional loudness and rolly nature, while she accepted our occasional mishaps with her sails and lines. Surrendering control of my life taught me the importance of trusting the higher power, which, in this case, was Misty and the weather.

It has been two weeks since I left Misty behind. Mark and Helen returned a few days after my departure, and new crew members joined them as they set sail for Darwin, Australia. Meanwhile, I have visited Brisbane and Sydney.

Picture: the Opera House and me in Sydney

Picture: close encounter with a rhino in Australia Zoo

Picture: kangaroo and me in the Australia Zoo

Picture: Pink Lady in the Maritime Museum, Brisbane. Jessica Watson's boat she sailed around the world solo, nonstop when she was 16.

I am currently in Bali, celebrating my birthday. Interestingly, I find myself feeling lonely when surrounded by others, but content and happy when I am alone. I have come to appreciate my own company, perhaps a bit too much.

I knew it would take time to readjust to normal life, but I doubt it will ever be the same as it was before September 2022. It will be something new, something different.

The first few days in Mackay were strange. Here are some notes from my journal:

"Sitting in a shopping mall in Mackay, eating a kebab. People bustling all around me. A group of little girls in pink clothes just walked past, people talking, fast food sizzling. So many people crammed into such a small space. I feel an urge to cry, though I'm not sure why. It's a mix of happiness, comfort, and a sense of safety, with a hint of overwhelming emotions. And they come so close, invading my personal space. The kebab is amazing. These people don't worry about the weather. They all look clean and smell nice. They drive home and sleep in their own beds, which don't move."

During my travels on land, I meet new people, and as part of getting to know each other, everyone shares a little bit about themselves. When I mention where I have been and what I have done in the last 11 months, I can sense their curiosity, but they struggle to ask questions. The usual inquiries revolve around where we went, the size of the boat, what we ate, and how many people were on board. Even if I answer these questions, I feel that the other person still won't truly grasp what it felt like to sail across oceans and visit unknown places.

One of my fellow sailors from the fleet warned me about this. He said that after returning home from being deployed to Iraq, his friends and family were curious about his experiences, but he never felt they truly understood. He also didn't feel inclined to share too many details, as it's not something everyone can/should relate to. He warned me that I would feel alone, which has now become my reality, and I am learning to embrace it.

I spent a week in Seminyak, Bali, at a retreat focused on surfing, meditation, yoga, and indulging in healthy food and luxurious experiences.

Picture: shining after three hour massage

The concept of the retreat was to bring together middle-aged women from around the world, pamper them, take them on amazing tours in Bali, and create an environment where lifelong friendships are formed. However, I found myself mostly hiding in my villa, skipping day trips, practicing yoga alone, leaving dinners early, and engaging in minimal conversation during social occasions. The most social event was my birthday, where I invited all the ladies to my villa for a drink.

Picture: birthday picture with the retreat staff and participants.

After the retreat, I arrived in Ubud, where I am currently staying. It is quieter, more tranquil, and feels more like me. I do whatever I want, whenever I want, even if it leads to accidents like losing a toenail while scooting around Ubud. It's not necessarily painful, but definitely uncomfortable. This means no more surfing lessons or long walks for now.

Picture: finishing up after toe nail removal

I suppose time will reveal what I should do next.

Sometimes, when I wake up in my bed and open my eyes, I am on Misty. I momentarily see the V berth, the sunlight streaming through the hatches, clothes swaying on hooks, and someone in the heads. I can hear Misty creaking and making her happy noises as she sails through the waves, heading west. Then, reality sets in, and I realize I am in a bed with clean bedding. I go to the bathroom to take a shower and savor the scent of freshly washed cotton towels before drying myself. Stepping out onto my balcony, which overlooks the jungle, I see the ocean. Birds and insects sing, but all I hear are the waves. It's a beautiful sight, and life itself is beautiful.

Picture: rice fields in Bali #1

Picture: rice fields in Bali #2