Marlene and her husband, Bob, live in Mill Valley, California. They have sailed for forty-six years, covering many parts of Mexico, the Marquesas, Tuamotus, French Polynesia, Hawaii, the Pacific Northwest, Canada and Alaska. In 1997 they bought a power boat and cruised Lake Erie, Ontario, Hudson River, the East coast, eventually bringing the boat by water home to California. They have two children, Bill and Lori, grandchildren, Brad, Brian, Blaire, Kara, Erika and Melissa.
After nursing a dream of cruising for over thirty-five years, Bob and Marlene reached the time where they could either choose to live out their fantasy, or remain an armchair cruiser, regretting they hadn't had the guts to try.
"I don't know if this is the right time to retire," Bob said. I held up his passport picture next to his face. "Look in the mirror. Your picture looks better than you do."
Adventures brought individual challenges to each partner. No matter how much they loved each other, could a marriage survive in forty-one feet of living space, twenty-four hours a day, for three hundred and sixty-five days?
They found some surprises along the way, demonstrating life wasn't perfect, or the Pacific ocean calm, and that a body functioned on less sleep than anyone could believe possible.
The wind escalated when we entered the shipping channel, grabbing at our hair with moist sea flavored breath. The masses of waves born by the wind, tide and sea swells folded on top of one another, thundering between the cliffs of San Francisco and the headlands of Marin.
I concentrated on keeping the boat headed into the wind while Bob raised the mainsail. The wave action made him reel like a drunken sailor. I called out, "You should have your safety harness on."
The wind snatched my words, carrying them away toward the brown hills. Bob turned to me and gave me a quizzical look, shouting back, "I can't hear a word you're saying."
Little did we know that phrase would become the war chant of our year at sea.
From Chapter 3: I stopped moving. I lay in the receding water, afraid to breath deeply because my chest hurt again. A man's voice boomed out, "Is she breathing?" Near my head a little girl's voice squealed, "I've never seen a dead person before Daddy."
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