Crossing the Gulf of Mexico, for slower boats, is an all-day and all-night affair far from shore with no cell phone service and open water as far as the eye can see. It is a trip that can create excitement or anxiety, or a mixture of both as it is unknown, unpredictable, and intimidating. We crossed the gulf from Carabelle to Clearwater in 24 hours, with two buddy boats, no incidents, and no surprises; in fact, it was a glorious adventure to remember.

We prepared for the journey; we watched AGLCA webinars on the crossing, checked and double-checked the marine weather forecasts, pre-cooked food to eat on the trip, changed the engine oil, checked all the belts and systems; in the end, however, mentally preparing for the journey was the most challenging part. Anxiety ran high days before departure, thankfully, we took turns with our panic meltdowns, and each experienced them differently. We kept checking and rechecking the marine forecasts on numerous sites. We told ourselves stories about in our previous experience, two feet means three feet, and all the times we pushed the limit of comfort came up in our minds. We each imagined the worst that could happen; engine or mechanical failure, seasickness at night without a horizon, waves on the beam that would rock us all night long, unexpected weather changes, and on and on. Our minds do a good job imagining the worst. And yet, with a stable weather forecast and preparations complete, we took a leap of faith.

Finally, we stopped continually checking the weather forecasts. The constant checking only added to our anxiety. We found two buddy boats looking to cross at the same time as us, one with previous experience making the crossing. We looked at the wave and wind direction and what angle they would strike, for how long, and what direction. We prayed, reached out to those with local knowledge, and talked to those that had completed the trip before us and an hour before our departure time, decided, yes, we were ready. At least as prepared as we would ever be.

At the start of the journey, we encountered gentle swells and calm seas as we watched the last of the gorgeous white sand beaches depart our view and the weather held during the sunset over the open water and the rising Christmas star. Then darkness descended, and the majestic night sky appeared, and it was spectacular, magnificent, and magical. The moon gently reflected across the seas, and the crystal-clear stars felt as if we could reach out and touch them. The night sky was unlike anything we have experienced before and may never again. A blessing indeed.

We alternated between being at the helm and sleeping. Being alone, tired, anxious, and with an overactive imagination, the night was exciting and created entertainment. As the winds and waves increased around 2 am, the AGLCA burgee and anchor started flapping and rocking. The anchor ends peeked over the bow as it swung and looked like the fingertips of the giant sea monster reaching up from the depths to pull our bow under. Then a large, brightly lit ship appeared to the starboard side. Was that a cruise ship or barge? No, it is the instrument lights reflecting off the windows. The seas remained “bumpy” until sunrise. Holding on to walk about the cabin was required, yet it never felt unsafe or uncomfortable, no big rocking motions from large waves on the beam. The morning soon greeted us with the beautiful orange glow as the sun announced its arrival over the horizon. And finally, to our relief, land ahead, a new landscape, changing from remote, white sandy beaches to populated cities with tall buildings. A journey complete, majestic, magical, and always to be remembered. 

6,000 miles in 12 months across 13 states and two countries….on a boat. From rivers, canals to oceans and lakes, various water, tides, currents, winds, and waves. An adventure and a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

Often the first question I get asked is, is it safe? We are a fan of staying alive. Thanks to the hard work of those before us, we have great resources, support, and tools to help on the journey. Most notably is the American Great Looper Cruisers Association (AGLCA), which is not for profit group that offers webinars, maps, books, forums, and lots of information. We spent years researching this trip; what kind of boat we would need, how long it would take, how much it would cost, and finally, how safe would we be. The answer is safe; the journey is mostly in well-protected water, we choose what weather to travel in, and no Looper has had a fatal accident yet. 

We started with years of previous boating experience, yet we still have much to learn. Before we began this adventure, we thought of everything we would need, AED-check, first aid kit-check, VHF radio-check, fire extinguishers-check, smoke detectors, and carbon monoxide-check. 

Sometimes we need a boost for our confidence, and as part of my growth, I decided to take a Boat US Foundation boat safety course. Wow, am I glad I did! It covered coast guard requirements, navigation, safety equipment, and boat operations. Even after many years of boating, it was well worth it. After taking the course, I went through everything on our boat. Flares-expired. Fire extinguishers?-BC but not ABC, EPIRB?-not registered. Ugh…quick trip to West Marine.

Did you know the number one cause of fatalities on the water is falling overboard without a life jacket on? Not sinking, capsizing, or being attacked by a giant whale, all my worst fears-it is when every day becomes mundane, and we get too comfortable. We now wear a lifejacket with a whistle attached anytime we are outside the cabin, whether docking, pulling the anchor, or watching the dolphins. Even the dog has a lifejacket. We consider headsets a safety necessity; it keeps clear communication during stressful times, through docking, locks, and moving about the vessel. 

Staying alive requires more than safety equipment; a seaworthy vessel, knowing the marine navigation rules, and during a pandemic, how to safely travel. Our boat is a 1978 Trawler, which, like any boat, needs some love to remain in seaworthy shape. I am blessed to be married to a mechanically gifted man who can repair and maintain the vessel. He even teaches me a thing or two. Boats have numerous systems; electrical, plumbing, propulsion, anchoring, and more. Oil needs changing, fuses replaced, batteries checked, and the list goes on…Making sure each is safe, up to date, and in top shape helps prevent emergencies. 

Marine navigation means understanding the buoy colors, from red and green, and on which side, to shapes and symbols. It is also essential to know how to pass another boat, a barge, and avoid a collision. And finally, traveling by boat during a pandemic presents unique challenges. Having spent time on land and at sea during this eventful time, I feel far safer on the ship than I did on the ground. We are alone on the boat, and when we do interact with others, it is electronically or outside and at a distance. Fueling is done outside, groceries can be picked up or delivered, and we only eat at restaurants if we can eat outdoors. If we want to visit a museum, we go during the working week hours when there are fewer people and wear a mask. Almost everything we need is a walk or bike-ride away.

We are lucky; many had gone before us and shared their experiences and wisdom on making this journey safe. The AGLCA is an excellent resource; together with boat safety courses, hiring a captain if needed, and mechanical skills, it is a safe trip of a lifetime, one that will keep you staying alive. 

Delay is hateful, but it gives wisdom. It is bound to happen to each of us, an unplanned delay. For type-A personalities, it tests one’s patience, ability to withstand frustration, and sanity. It is about our perception of loss of control, control over when the weather will clear, to how repairs are completed by the mechanic, in what timeframe, how much it will cost, and the general ambiguity of the immediate future. If previously traveling with others, it feels like you have been left behind. There is so much to explore and see, and yet you must sit…and wait. 

And yet, we control the story we tell ourselves. It is easy to focus on what is lost; it is tougher to focus on what is gained-new friends, time for boat projects, a chance to slow down and enjoy, learning patience, trust, and gratefulness. We are safe, healthy, and have shelter. During this pandemic, we are mostly outside, and at a social distance from others, we are well, the sun is shining, we have enough. 

Life still offers choices; rent a car, be a tourist, take a walk or bike ride, visit friends and family, return home, or work on the boat. During this journey, Loopers continue to meet again. Each of us has a unique path, and those paths continue to cross in the future. No two trips are alike; some stop for delays, others to visit friends and family; some have a specific travel cadence; eventually, all meet again. The sites to explore remain as they are and patiently wait for our future arrival. All is well, and we are blessed.

Nature can speak to you without saying a word, the gentle breeze from across the water, the absolute quiet, the wildlife living nearby, the splash from a jumping fish, and the clear, beautiful sky. You become part of nature, listen to the silence, watch the birds stalking their prey, and feel the stillness. It is peaceful and calm.

Anchoring is simple, with no lines to cleat, forms to sign, hookups to complete. You also live simply, only use what is on your boat, and self-sustain for a night or longer. Electricity from solar, batteries, and a generator. Heat or air conditioning optional. Water from your boat tanks. Food from your pantry on board. You have all you need.

The nearby shore often invites exploration for those seeking adventure, a walk through a park, a hike up a hill, a bike ride, or picking wild berries. Every anchorage is a new exploration and a unique experience. Fellow boaters in an anchorage can liven the party and provide meaningful social connection; from outdoor meals onshore to dinghy parties or games, the choice is yours. 

From beautiful sunrises to glorious sunsets, to rafting neighbor boats, to the symphony of nature, being at anchor is a joy and an experience of a lifetime. 

Rivers are living things, and much like humans, each has its unique personality. We have traversed the Illinois, Ohio, Cumberland, and Tennessee rivers and experienced the splendor and trials of each. 

The Illinois River was calm and majestic. It was a joy, from its beautiful forest-lined banks to unique bridges to the plethora of bald eagles. Going through America’s heartland, we passed farms, barges, small towns, and untamed wilderness. The water was calm and reflective. 

Next was the mighty Mississippi River, adventurous and naughty. This one kept us on our toes and at full alert. Going with the current, we felt like we were a far faster boat, and the miles were fast in coming. From the eddies that altered our course, to the copious barges, to dangers just below the surface, to the sharp corners and curves, it was both exciting and terrifying. She earns her reputation as the mighty Mississippi.

After the Mississippi, Ohio was a joyous experience. Ohio was sedate and slumbering, broad and lacking the mischievousness of the Mississippi. Although we were now going slower and against the current, it was a welcome relief and delight. 

The Cumberland was small but mighty. Far narrower than the other rivers, yet the current was strong. It was a peaceful experience with minimal barge traffic and mostly untamed shores. This ended at the Barkley Lock, our last big lift up.

From there, it was the Tennessee River, quirky and exciting, alternating from lakes to a river and back again. Here the shores changed from forest and farmland to rocks carved by time. The current again slowed our progress yet gave us more time to admire the homes on stilts, rock formations, and wildlife along its shores. As its last hurrah, we passed through the gorgeous Pickwick Lake; here, the rivers widen, and you find hidden waterfalls, beautiful and plentiful anchorages, and even an island with goats.

We are blessed indeed. 

This trip has allowed us to see the physical nature of our world up close. And it is beautiful. The water has its hypnotic dance and creates a sense of peace and calm for those who are lucky enough to be near it. 

Beyond the water, we have seen the stone cliffs etched by time, the sandy beaches, and the animals in their natural state. We have been fortunate to see various deer, elk, bison, pelicans, bald eagles, beavers, and seagulls. It is fascinating to watch them hunt for fish, run across a river, or simply fly above us. 

We try to anchor out and just enjoy whenever possible. Away from lights and cities, we can sit outside and admire the majestic sky with the Milky Way, stars, and planets. All of this together creates a sense of awe and reminds us how lucky we are to be on this journey and this planet. In our faith, we are grateful that a God who could create all this can love and care about us. 

We did it, and we are all in. Quit our jobs, sold our beautiful, much-loved house, and moved on to a 1978 Trawler. We vacillate between being excited, overwhelmed, and questioning our sanity. Indeed, an unusual life choice and not one that follows the typical trajectory of success as defined by society. That is partly the point. We are trading security for uncertainty, comfort for simplicity, stability for adventure. 2020, a most unusual year, one that has brought changes to our world that have led many to question their previous life choices. There is the cliche that life is short, and it certainly feels that way now. Friends getting sick, people dying, societal unrest, and divisive politics-many of us are not ok.

So, we took an opportunity to change directions. Whether this is good or bad remains to be seen, like much in life, it will probably be a mix of both. It has been almost a week since we closed on our home, drove off in a packed car, and moved on to the boat. Right now, it still feels like a vacation. We have been busy, boat projects, organizing, cleaning, and finding a new normal. We spend a lot more time outdoors, even in October. Our iPhone says our steps have tripled over the previous week. Everything is just a touch harder. We have to renegotiate the cadence and roles in our relationship—a different life.

In 4 days, we cast off our lines and start our journey south. We are not alone; we have met many fellow boaters and loopers that have become our new community. Scott and I will keep you updated on our progress and journey. Blessings. 

The Kindness of Strangers

Updated: Nov 8, 2020

What a week full of adventure! It was refreshing to see the kindness of strangers and feel the warmth of a genuine welcome. We met great fellow loopers as we waited for the Illinois River locks to open, and we soon developed some neat friendships through our shared adventures. We experienced the 4:30 am departure from the marina in the dark of night, going through multiple locks with only the lock lights for guidance, following fellow loopers in a long line of boats into a marina on a pitch-black evening. We also witnessed a call to the coast guard for a grounded fellow traveler whose boat was in obvious distress. Wow. That was just the first few days. 

We met some great people, including Tom and his dog Hank, who uses this trip to raise money for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. His four-year-old nephew is bravely battling cancer, and Tom has been so moved by the free resources his family has experienced that he dedicates his time and energy to raise money to help other families in need. If you would like to donate go to @tomandhankoffthehook on Instagram.

I have noticed that traveling by boat is a great equalizer; there is little discussion about careers, occupations, politics, or possessions. Nearly all are willing to help a stranger with no expectations in return. Everyone looks out for each other. We have met people sailing alone, couples, parents with kids, and working adults. What brings them together is a love of the water, boats, and each other. In a time of deep division, it is refreshing, uplifting, and very, very appreciated. 

There is a quote, “nothing is wonderful when you get used to it.” I find that to be true too often in life. When we started this year-long, 7,000-mile journey, we started from Hammond, Indiana, and headed down Illinois’s heart. I grew up in Illinois and knew it well. Let’s just say it would not be the part of the trip that excited me. I knew this territory, landscape, and people well, and as the saying goes, I did not find it wonderful.

Then something magical happened. I saw the familiar through fresh eyes and a different perspective; this perspective took a dramatic shift. I saw the landscapes, rivers, and the beauty from the river that I previously took for granted when on land. We saw bald eagles in their majesty hunting for lunch, cranes in their elegant beauty, the majestic hills where the Mississippi and Illinois Rivers meet, the trees and hills in their splendor. 

It was a refreshing change, one that delighted and surprised us. Perhaps we took for granted what we got used to, stopped seeing the beauty right in front of us. We rejoice in the change.