We’ve been aboard just over a week now. Eliza Sue has become our official home, and our routine has become marked by the putting up and taking down the tarp, putting up and taking down the sails, taking out and putting away the floor boards. We’ve gotten into the habit of slow mornings. Several days have begun not with an alarm, but with a whoosh of air whenever the first person decides to deflate their sleeping pad. We’ve spent our long mornings waiting out high winds, swimming in a mangrove cut, and wading out to a silty beach while the tide floods back to a level where we can reach the channel. It’s amazing to be in a boat that draws only 18 inches with our centerboard up. Our rudder is specially shaped to be flush with the shallow hull. The backcountry keys feel like our private playground, since so few boats can navigate the spots reported to be one half a foot deep that we dare to sail over on all but the lowest tides. That’s not to say we aren’t cautious. On our very first afternoon we had the quintessential Florida Keys experience of running aground. BINGO! We put our water shoes on, got out of the boat, and sunk our calves into the muck while we pushed and pulled and rocked our boat back into deeper water. Though memorable, it’s not an experience that we are keen to repeat. And so we’ve set and reset and set and reset our anchor. We’ve done the Bahamian, tied dock lines to mangrove trees, set an anchor off our stern, and invented a few maneuvers of our own. At anchor we’ve played guitar, had dance parties, swum, done yoga, played cards, and had quiet time. We cook for one another, soak in the sunsets, and check the weather. During dinner, we’ve taken to sharing stories about Miles, some of our own or some that we read from the Kudos board. (If you have a story you’d like to share, please send it to us through the contact form on our website or by text to any of us.)I didn’t have the chance to instruct or sail with him, but from the stories I’ve heard it seems like Miles wasn’t one to force the flow of an expedition. When the stars were bright and the students were tired, he would say lets lay down and look at the sky. Slowness gives rise to laughter, stories, and moments of closeness that can get lost when time-stress is a driving force. I’m really grateful to embrace slowness as we live together on this wonderful little boat, with all of its quirks and our own.
-Sofia Fea Ruiz
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