As always, I put on my safety harness and secured the other end of the tether to the binnacle of my sailboat Eidos. Eidos is an East Orient, 32 feet in length, with an encapsulated medium length keel, so she tracks well when the sails are balanced. I usually leave the dock with a reef in the main as a precaution in case the wind is much stronger outside of a protected harbour or anchorage.
That day, the sun was shining, the wind was light and I looked forward to a gentle, two hour sail. After shutting off the engine, I unrolled the 100% jib and set the sails for a broad reach. I relaxed in the cockpit, sipping my coffee and enjoying the view of my surroundings. However, on that day, King Neptune had a surprise for me in store about halfway to my destination. Suddenly, the wind increased and shifted. I had to quickly tack not only because of the wind shift, but also because of a bend in a narrow channel I had been following. As I reached for the starboard sheet which was cleated next to the old-fashioned, not self-tailing winch, I tripped over the short tether that was supposed to keep me safe, and landed chin first on the cockpit seat with legs tangled up in the webbing. I was lucky that I didn't knock myself out, but by the time I was able to stand up and untangle myself, Eidos was getting very close to the rocks near the shore.
I managed to save the boat and myself this time, but decided that I could no longer sail alone. I realized that my reflexes were not what they once were, and it took me longer to react to changing conditions. Also, at nearly 70-years of age, I was not as spry and agile as I once was. Although healthy, I was not as strong either to handle an eight ton boat. Even though I have an electric windlass, the sails have to be managed with brute force and the dock lines secured safely and often quickly.
And so, I decided to take crew with me from then on. The difficulty lies in the fact that my sons live in Canada and can only come to Greece for short holidays, and most pick-up crew don't know my boat or how she behaves. She is also too small to share with strangers. I did sometimes invite young back-packers on board to help with cleaning, sanding, varnishing and shopping, but I was reluctant to venture out with the sails up. And so, I finished that summer by staying at anchor near Vonitsa.
The next two summers I stayed at anchor near Nidri on the island of Lefkada and only ventured out when I had reliable help. And help I needed on another occasion when an unattended boat dragged her anchor and tangled her chain with mine. Luckily, that time some neighbours at the anchorage came to rescue the boat that dragged and to help me get the chains untangled.
The following summer, my younger son helped me sail through the Gulf of Patras and the Corinth Canal to the Saronic Gulf near Athans. My older son came the summer after that with my 14-year old grandson and we sailed again. They are all skilled sailors, so I didn't have to do much on board or worry. But after they left, I mostly stayed put at anchor. Sadly, I am now more and more reliant on crew who come for a week or two to help with a bit of maintenance in exchange for sailing.
This winter, Eidos was in a boat yard, as usual and I am not looking forward to the work necessary prior to launching or spending another summer in one spot. My energy is no longer there to fight changing weather conditions, worry whether the anchor will hold, or row to shore for supplies.
Getting older is not much fun when it comes to sailing, and single handing a boat is never a good idea. Furthermore, Eidos is no longer young either at 44 years, so she needs more and more attention as the years go by. And so, I am beginning to wonder how much longer I can keep her.
How does one decide? I have a friend who spends more time on boat maintenance while living aboard in a marina than sailing. This could also be my choice. Live aboard until "they will have to carry me out, feet first," as my friend says. Others, move back on land and sell their boat. As an interim measure, one could sell shares in the boat to decrease the responsibilities and the costs. After 20 years of ownership, living aboard Eidos, an Atlantic crossing, and many wonderful moments cruising in the Mediterranean, I am not looking forward to making that decision.
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