Sailing the Tasman Sea, Part I

Life has recently surprised me with heartbreak. I am still in good spirits; there is more to gain, and less to lose, or so it feels.

The following adventure is not prescribed, nor will I accept it as motivated by tragedy. It is simply me following the motion of waves and fighting it less — literally.

"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot."

— Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Today I arrived in New Zealand, where I will join an old sailor on his voyage across the Tasman Sea. The boat leaves from Opua, sails through the islands for four nights, then traverses 1,200 nautical miles to the Gold Coast, QLD.

I have read The Old Man and the Sea, and I anticipate an ending in similar fashion. I feel entitled to a happy ending, but I know it is certainty that defeats the joy and purpose of adventure. Perhaps I too will strike my luck. I am sure I will eat these words at 4am, keeping watch in the rain and wind, with waves crashing against the hull.

If all goes well, I will be a trans-oceanic sailor, an explorer, a Huck Finn of sorts.

Soon, I will write about Ben Stiller's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, and how I perceived his adventure and growth.

I also anticipate a new understanding of waves, one that a higher education in physics might never teach. Soon, I will write about rough-sea sailing strategies, and how they might be analogous to life.