The downside of having offspring is that, when you’ve sailed for 18 hours and felt f!$king dire for most of them, they awake at the same time as usual – meaning that you get approximately four hours sleep. Joy. It’s lucky the surroundings were sublime. It’s easier to feel hungover when it’s 20 degrees and you survived what felt like a near-death experience (whether by nausea, fatigue, anxiety, or all three). It felt like the pay-off for the slog.
The Smalls are entranced by the cove – the rocks to climb, creek to explore – and they are relieved to be adventuring at last. “Was it worth the long sail?” I asked DB. “Oh yes!” she said, seemingly having forgotten the reappearance of her breakfast, her lunch and a banana the previous day.
I think it was way too epic. I felt so lousy. Every time I checked myself, my shoulders were around my ears, my stomach was tensed, jaw clenched. For hours and hours and hours. It was not an ideal first voyage out of Westernport. I spent a large chunk of time wondering why the hell anybody would use a sailboat as a mode of transportation. Were we completely insane? I wanted my car back.
But with the soothing influence of sunshine, a beautiful beach and untouched sand, the horrors began being evilly smeared from my memory. Maybe it was worth it. It has definitely made me think twice about sailing straight to George Town. I am now reconsidering island-hopping in order to avoid a marathon slog