Patience is a sailor’s virtue, especially in the doldrums—as you wait for wind in a becalmed sea…wait for the storm to diminish…wait for the wind to change direction. As you raise sails. Lower sails. Shift sails. The good news is that you’re very rarely bored when sailing. When you are gifted with a few moments of idleness, take a few deep breaths of pure salty air and savor the sunshine warming your skin as sparkling blue water gurgles against the hull, leaving a bubbly path in your wake.
Sailing is a lot like our lives. It’s not usually calm, perfect conditions, but we need to appreciate every moment of the journey, even the doldrums. Difficult times that challenge us. Seasons when we’re stuck, unable to move forward. Periods of utter fatigue when we feel overwhelmed and want to give up.
We should make the most of those intervals of stagnation. They are blessings that allow you time to catch up—write or call a friend; bake a special treat for a loved one; draw closer to God. Rest! Because life will get crazy again, guaranteed, and you want to be prepared for whatever comes next.
“Patience is not simply the ability to wait—it’s how we behave while we’re waiting” —Anonymous
Although Colors of the Ocean is fiction, several locations within the story are actual places we visited during our 3-year voyage around the world in our sailboat. As I reread my trip journals and paged through photo albums, it made me realize how important it is to record events in our lives. Those tangible items share details of moments that can spark memories which may be accurate or a bit off the beam. As I wrote my book I found great pleasure in reliving portions of our cruising days, sometimes surprised by things I’d forgotten, and a few times grateful I was no longer going through those experiences!
However, my favorite memories from all those adventures were the people—sailors from all walks of life who became part of our cruising family; and immersion into the cultural diversity of Mexico and each island country. What I loved most about everyone we met was their kindness. We might speak different languages, eat different foods, and dress differently, but we were always greeted with warm smiles. Several times we were invited into a family’s home for a beverage or meal, or to attend their church or local festivities. They loved sharing, no matter how little they had and were content in their quiet, less complicated lives.
Those days that we dwelled among the island people gave pause for contemplation—for what was really important and for our purpose in life. It all really came down to one thing. Love each other. If enough people would do small acts of kindness, we could all make a huge impact in our world.
We can do no great things, only small things with great love
The reality of publishing my novel, Colors of the Ocean, deepened when I received the final image for my book cover from Kelly, Elk Lake’s cover designer. I couldn’t stop smiling. As I turned the calendar to September, my smile drooped a bit. I realized that the anticipated late fall launch is not far off. Do you ever feel like there are so many things to do, you become immobile? Or your brain short-circuits into a confusing mass, unable to prioritize everything that needs to get done? Instead you find yourself sliding down rabbit holes and feeling even more overwhelmed.
Daily living gives us a never-ending supply of items to cross off our lists: cooking, cleaning, exercise, gardening, grocery shopping, grandkids, Bible study, volunteering, and of course—writing and all that goes with it. And I’m just getting started. Honestly, I have not slowed down since retirement, just rearranged the schedule!
What I need to remember is to breathe and focus on what God wants me to accomplish each day. In my quiet time each morning I draw close to God, listen, and wait for guidance along His path. Then I am filled with strength and the perseverance to fulfill whatever His purpose is for me that day. By trusting God, I can let go of worries and instead, enjoy this fantastic journey. He’s got this.
Life is both risk & opportunity. Yield to God’s design & purpose with a spirit of trust & enthusiasm.
You make known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand— Psalm16:11
I assume you’re familiar with the quote, “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get”, from Alice in Wonderland. That’s been me the past few months, working in many directions as I prepare for Elk Lake’s publication of my novel, Colors of the Ocean. Release date soon to be announced. At least I finally got my blog converted to this awesome author website with many thanks to Tim McClain for his skill and patience. Photos taken, author bio and back cover rewritten, 3rd and final edits submitted. Check, check, check. I’m still building my social media platform using LinkedIn, and working on an email subscriber list, trying to decide who to use—Substack, MailChimp, or Constant Contact?
Believe me, I am not complaining. God has given me a wonderful opportunity and I’m thankful for this path of life He is leading me on. How blessed to share what I love to do—write—and set forth the inspiration gifted from experiences, people, places, joys, and sorrows. God has used the very worst to make the very best. This is a bit of my testimony.
In 2008, my only son, Shannon, contracted West Nile Virus. He wasn’t able to fight off the virus due to being on immunosuppressant meds because of a kidney transplant in 1992. His prognosis poor, he eventually awoke from a coma, but remained paralyzed and on life support for a year—the remainder of his life. There are no adequate words to describe the fear and deep pain of that year. But because of my helplessness and finally reaching out to God, who I’d mostly ignored for years, He bestowed hope and many miracles during those dark days. My faith journey began as I learned to trust God through the valleys, not just the mountaintops. I surrendered my life to Him and God gave me the courage and strength to persevere through and after Shannon’s passing in 2009. Then He showed me how to use those deepest emotions and rewrite the novel I’d been working on for a few years. Only this time, God was the author and I His pen and paper.
I began this blog with the simple intention of updating you on the progress of publication for my Christian Young Adult novel, an adventure that crosses an ocean and generational bridges. Instead, I’ve shared my testimony—the turning point of my life. That’s what God does. He takes over my thoughts and my heart. And I follow down whatever path he may lead me.
It’s been quite a learning experience, following, and not trying to organize and control my own destiny. But I’ve found that God knows what He’s doing, while I rarely do. His plans are always much better than mine. Not always easier, but always fulfill His purpose for my life. What is that purpose? To plant seeds of faith. To water, feed, and nurture those budding flowers. Good thing I love gardening!
True faith, true belief, isn’t possible where there’s not a daily doing of what Jesus says. They’re what make faith take root and spring to life … Neglecting the things he says, there’s no soil in which your faith can grow—George McDonald— “Knowing the Heart of God”
I’m about to steer a new course to unfamiliar lands. My blog will soon be moving onto my author website. I’ll be keeping the same domain: cheryldfitzgerald.com which should make it easy to continue reading posts about my adventures. I’m sorry I haven’t written much recently, but there’s a very good reason—I’m in the process of having my novel published by Elk Lake Publishing. The contract was signed at Christmas. What a God-given gift! I’ll be sharing portions of my writing journey on this enhanced site. Please be patient as I transition to a new format. I’m a bit technologically challenged, but am slowly learning and working on designs. That part is actually fun! I’m currently in the middle of editing my manuscript and building my social media network. There’s lots going on! I’d appreciate it if would also follow me on LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/cheryl-fitzgerald-8351b8327
May your seas be smooth & breezes gentle as you discover new paths along your own life journeys. See you soon with more tales, trails, & travails to share.
What does navigating a boat across an ocean have in common with writing a book? Both sailing and composing a story take us on exciting, fulfilling, although occasionally challenging journeys. Just as we need instruction and tools to steer our boat along the path we prefer to take, we must also have some basic knowledge in the craft of the written word.
Sometimes we cruise on calm seas and the words flow easily. Other times we wander through a fog of confusion and despair. Where am I? Why did I choose this difficult undertaking? Fear and uncertainty join the crew for a brief interval, but eventually are replaced once more with exuberance and courage… until I hit the doldrums—becalmed, drifting, my thoughts a blank sea of glass. But even though I’m stuck, going nowhere, I can still find inspiration in the writing of others such as Francine Rivers, Michael Phillips, Kristin Hannah, and my new favorite author, Amanda Dykes. Their books transport me to other lands and centuries, and suddenly I find myself in the midst of new lives facing their own highs and lows. They encourage me to not give up, to move forward. I begin to be drawn back into my own stories, my created characters who have become part of me, both family and friend. A gentle breeze ruffles the sails. Before I realize it, I’m back on course, headed to my destination—the completion of my next novel.
I’ll likely run into turbulence along the way —rough seas that threaten to capsize the boat and gale force winds that cause me to change course. However, these disruptions are only temporary. Winds and seas will soon settle again into better sailing conditions with a fifteen-knot wind on a comfortable beam reach beneath balmy azure skies. From survival mode I’ll be lulled back into the rhythm of the sea, waves of inspiration pushing me onward with renewed clarity and purpose.
Where does this peaceful state of mind come from, even during the storms? It begins every morning with quiet time. Reading Scripture, contemplating, and praying. God’s thoughts become my thoughts. His purpose becomes the path for my day. His words pour forth through my pen.
And the voyage continues…
A few of my favorite books:
Whose Waves These Are and All the Lost Places by Amanda Dykes
Mark of the Lion series by Francine Rivers
Secret of the Rose series and Caledonia series by Michael Phillips
How many whispers of the watching Spirit do we let slip by? While we brood over a need not yet come to us!…When we should be still, sleeping, or dreaming, we’re fretting about an hour that lies half a sun journey’s away! —from “Knowing the Heart of God” by George MacDonald
Cape of Good Hope, also known as the Graveyard of Ships, became a distant memory along with prayers of gratitude for light-moderate conditions as we spent the next 14 days sailing 1,500 miles across the South Atlantic. After anchoring in James Bay, Jerry and I dinghied to a high wharf and walked into a history book. Castle ramparts kept guard as we crossed a moat, scampered beneath an old stone archway, and entered Jamestown.
Winding cobbled lanes were lined with 19th century establishments and tiny shops, all scrunched together—except where odd little openings and shadowed alleys beckoned with anecdotes from the olde world. Locals welcomed us with smiles and greetings as we made our way to eat at Anne’s Place set in the Castle Gardens. Amid the endemic flowering ebony plant, pines, ferns, and other colorful foliage, we dined on fishcakes, although the pumpkin stew sounded interesting. Over lunch we ruminated about some of the famous visitors over the centuries who traversed this intriguing land—Naturalist Charles Darwin, astronomer Edmund Halley, Captain William Bligh (think Mutiny), explorer James Cook, and exile Napoleon Bonaparte.
The following day we rented a car and toured the 47 square mile island with cruising buddies. Zigzagging our way along narrow roads and through quiet tidy villages with beautiful gardens and groves of mango and avocado trees, it was a surprise to observe so many contrasting environments. Hilltops surrendered vistas of verdant valleys and abandoned flax fields peppered by volcanic slopes where jagged monoliths sat in watchful quietude.
Within the lush interior we encountered Napoleon’s final homes—a far cry from his lavish lifestyle, pomp and circumstance, and battle cries. For two months he resided at the Briars before moving to Longwood House. Set among splendid gardens of bougainvillea, tree ferns, and tropical blossoms, the home contained French Provincial furniture, artwork, and memorabilia. It may not have been a palace, but his remaining six years were spent in simple comfort. Bonaparte chose to be entombed by the whispering waters in Geranium Valley, although France interrupted this peaceful slumber when they moved his remains back to Paris.
Moving on, we paused at 18th century forts,archaic stone churches, and along rocky paths that often led to unidentified ruins, wondering about the untold stories hidden beneath the rubble.
No visit would be complete without a stop at the Governor’s Plantation House to hang out with one-eyed Jonathan and other giant tortoises. Approximately 200 years old! He’s seen the upheaval of several governments, turmoil and heartache of wars, and gradual transformation into a peaceful country now under British rule. The tales he could tell—if only he could talk.
Along the coast near Jamestown bronze-hued cliffs, carved by centuries of crashing surf, are an impenetrable fortress with a 1,000 foot drop to the ocean. History seeps between the cracks of stone walls that line trails to ancient crumbling barracks and lookouts.
Huge cannons lay abandoned, reminders of wars fought and lives lost since the discovery of this island in 1502 by Portuguese explorers. Today one can gaze out to sea and not look upon warships, but whale sharks, humpbacks, and pan tropical spotted dolphins. Seabirds circle above, diving towards a flash of silver, a salty treat. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a glimpse of the St. Helena plover, aka the Wirebird, due to its long wiry legs.
One final tidbit—Up until 2017 St. Helena could only be reached by boat. Now there’s been a new invasion, the modern world of commercial airlines and cruise ships. Hopefully the tourist industry won’t destroy the quaintness and tranquility of this island in the middle of nowhere.
History is a gallery of pictures in which there are a few originals and many copies—Alexis de Tocqueville, former Minister for Europe & Foreign Affairs of France (1805-1859)
Welcome. You are invited on the maiden voyage of my newest category—For & About Writers. I’ve recently completed revising my novel, Colors of the Ocean, for the umpteenth time and am currently exploring publishing options which is another whole job in itself. Although it’s not nearly as much fun as writing a story, I’m learning all about marketing, email newsletters, sell-sheets, and so much more. Yikes! It’s a bit overwhelming, but who doesn’t love a good challenge? Keeps us young and on our toes. Thank goodness for writing conferences such as Taylor University’s Professional Writing and Ball State’s Mid-West Writer’s program, writer organizations like American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), and most importantly, critique groups. My writing friends at Heartland Christian Writers (HCW) offer a variety of creativity that include novels, non-fiction, inspirational poems, and journalism. Without all of these wonderful resources, I’d have no idea what I’m doing or how to share my stories with the world.
Speaking of sharing, below are a few short excerpts from my Young Adult (YA) novel that also may appeal to mature middle graders and adults. It’s written from two viewpoints—thirteen-year-old Roxi and her grandmother as they explore the world in a sailboat and overcome their stormy relationship.
Roxi McKay clung to the rail of the wobbly sailboat, Dawn's Dove, as it motored away from its slip. Her insides were crumbling like a sand sculpture when the tide rushes in. She glared through brimming eyes at her mother, Star, as the distance between them grew... She licked a salty film off full lips as she recalled that final day with her mom. "I'm gonna miss you Mom. Will you miss me?" Star had taken a long drag on her cigarette and let it out slowly. "Well of course, Snuggle Bunny. But what an opportunity for both of us. This new part on the soap opera is going to make me rich and famous." She flashed a fake smile. "And you're embarking on a fabulous adventure." "Really? You don't even care that I could die out there?" Star's eyes flashed with alarm for an instant, but then narrowed. "You're more of a drama queen than I am. Stop thinking only about yourself." Her voice hardened. "Do you know how much I've sacrificed for you? My career, freedom, relationships,pretty much my whole life!" It always came back to this same argument. Now Roxi found herself stuck on this dumb boat with grandparents she barely knew. Star had finally promised that if Roxi still felt unhappy after a year of traveling, she could return home... Can I survive this? She stole one last glance toward the distant shore. Star was long gone. The scent of the sea conjured images of squiggly jellyfish and giant squid lurking beneath its murky surface. Roxi shivered in the damp October wind and squinted at the vast gray ocean ahead. Just like her future, it stretched out before her, bleak and unknown.
That’s all for now. Next time I’ll share a tidbit from Carol’s POV. I’ll keep you updated on progress of my publishing journey. By the way, I learned a new word today: raconteur: a person who tells anecdotes in a skillful and amusing way.
Hope is the child of faith & worry the child of doubt. While we may not know what the future holds, we know who holds the future—excerpt from Days of Grace by Lewis B. Smedes
A strange email set in motion an unanticipated journey to Hilton Head Island marina a couple of months ago. In February I received a note from a couple stating they were about to purchase our old boat. They had tracked me down while searching the Internet for info on White Dove. It’s crazy scary what social media can do these days, but in this case they discovered my blog which is a good thing—right?
We landlocked Indiana sailors finally made it to the Atlantic Ocean in May. Actually 3 weeks before that I had enjoyed Pacific Ocean breezes while visiting family and friends in Southern CA. You can never have too much beach time. Any beach, any coast, that’s my motto. I love the crash and swish of waves, scents of the sea, glorious peace that surrounds me at sunset, and of course— seafood! Saltwater runs through my veins as I’ve spent two-thirds of my life living near an ocean. I felt right at home when we set up camp at Hunting Island State Park near Beaufort, South Carolina.
You could easily spend a week here without ever leaving the island. There are 10 miles of easy to moderate hiking and biking trails that wind along a lagoon, traverse maritime forests, and wander through sand dunes where loggerhead turtles were beginning to nest. One of our favorite activities is kayaking and there’s an abundance of nearby coastal lagoons, marshes, blackwater rivers, and swamps to paddle. Be sure to stop by the visitor center where you can have a virtual experience of the island’s historic lighthouse built in 1859. It was destroyed during the Civil War, then reconstructed in 1875. Or you can take a self-guided tour on the grounds of the real structure. To gain info about the flora and fauna of this diverse wonderland visit the nature center located at the fishing pier. Our favorites were white-tailed deer, bottlenose dolphins, and abundant bird life such as painted buntings, egrets, osprey, and eagles. But, beware—there also are alligators and snakes. Not on my Fav list.
The purpose of this trip, however, wasn’t for exploration of an island, but for something we still held dear to our hearts—our old and cherished sailboat, White Dove which we sold in 2003. It not only served as our home for 10 years, but also as our mode of travel that blessed us with 3 years of cruising several of the earth’s oceans. We gave this special friend our blood, sweat, and sometimes tears and in return she gifted us with life experiences far beyond our expectations.
We developed an instant connection with Matt & Kayla DeVito, her new owners. Although they bought Unless, WD’s new name, for $1, they face countless hours, months, and probably years of challenging work as they repair, restore, and make her their own. Their first job entailed pulling out bags of trash along with rotten food, rodent carcasses, and alien mold forms. They also replaced several ancient thru-hull hoses that threatened to sink their new purchase.
Our time together forged a bond with this enterprising couple who is half our age , yet we share so much in common. Matt and Jerry are both mechanical geniuses who can fix or build almost anything, love woodworking, and all things boats. Kayla and I are creative beings. She’s a talented oil painter who also shares her artistic gift by teaching others. Although I’ve dabbled in oils, my passion is writing and I’m endeavoring to publish my first fiction novel about, you guessed it, sailing! All four of us love the sea, traveling to seek new adventures, and we seem to thrive on challenges.
What was my first reaction to our reunion with WD? Tears of disbelief. Sadness as my eyes surveyed this abandoned yacht. Was this really the same boat we’d sailed around the world and shared so may joyful and occasionally difficult times? At first unrecognizable, soon certain details emerged, and with it a flood of memories. The bowsprit Jerry had sprawled across during our rescue off New Zealand and the Monitor windvane, another part of that same story that you can read about in a previous post. In the cabin below all the varnished custom woodworking had severe water damage except a glass door etched with a dove. It had somehow survived and shone in the shadows. It all felt familiar and foreign at the same time. Melancholy yet joyful.Peace and hope flowed through me as I visualized the transformation of this precious sailboat into an art studio and work of art as its new owners pursue their dreams.
A portion of our legacy is being preserved through this next generation of sailors as we witness this ugly duckling emerge into a beautiful new bird. Watch as dock lines are cast off, sails are raised, and the DeVitos embark on their own life adventures, wherever the winds and currents may carry them.
For more information and updates on Kayla & Matt DeVito visit their Instagram at living.devito.loca.
From Knysna White Dove motor-sailed to the tiny, rolly marina at Mossel Bay. While waiting for a weather window, we stayed busy with small projects, scenic walks, and exploration of museums and shops. With some trepidation, we then faced the 220-mile/42-hour sail around challenging Cape Agulhus, the southern-most point of S. Africa, where the frigid Atlantic meets the warm currents of the Indian Ocean. The first half was pleasant with light breezes and flat seas until three hours before the cape. A strong SW wind quickly built up 3-meter seas on our nose, sloshing the deck and found an open hatch. Whoops! After 4-hours of chaotic, potato patch seas, the 40-knot wind came around behind us and we surfed the swells into False Bay.
The peaceful settlement of Simon’s Town offered a protected marina and friendly yacht club, and proved much quieter than the marinas in Cape Town. A 15-minute walk to watch the African penguins became one of my favorite daily activities. They are nicknamed Jackass penguins because of their braying which became especially loud during their mating season and quite entertaining.
Brett and Jillian, an affable S.African sailing couple became our unofficial tour guides for several adventures. One day we drove out to Cape Point/Cape of GoodHope, situated within Cape Peninsula National Park. Over 250 species of birds have been sited in this nature reserve, but few animals due to limited vegetation, although we were warned to be careful of the sometimes aggressive baboons. Playing tourists, we rode the funicular to the highest point overlooking the rocky promontory which Jerry and I would be rounding once we left the African coast. The views from the top were spectacular.
Table Mountain provided a full day of exploits with our S. African friends. We began a 5-1/2-hour hike on the Constantia Nek trail which took us up a curvy, pine tree-lined access road—all uphill, but shady and cooled by a gentle breeze. There were several small reservoirs constructed from stone blocks at the top of the first mountain. Along the route multitudes of wildflowers caught our attention including the elusive Red Disa which only blooms in February. Iridescent Sunbirds sip nectar from this vibrant flower and the Table Mtn Beauty Butterfly only feeds from it. This bio-diverse landscape grows over 2,000 species, many unique to the region, including the rhinoceros bush and several types of alien-looking proteas. We searched for Table Mtn ghost frogs, but they stayed invisible. However, several cute dassies scampered among the rocks.
The road ended at an old museum that displayed a steam locomotive and other artifacts that had been transported up the mountain by cart, cables, and manpower. These had all been used during the 1800s to build the dams. From here the real fun began.
With help from some locals we finally located the right trailhead (there were 3). For the next 3-1/2-hours we tramped a narrow rocky path, clambering over boulders, down steep hillsides into Echo Valley which lived up to its name, crossed logs through marshy bogs, and wound up an even steeper slope while negotiating 3 ladders! Quivering muscles burned, but the sweat and dust were well worth the magnificent vistas of False Bay, Hout Bay, and once on The Table, the sprawling city of Cape Town with its massive harbor. We picnicked before taking the easy, 4-minute route down—the cable car with a rotating floor. The panoramic views were awesome.
No visit would be complete without visiting wine country. There were several areas to choose from: Constantia, Franschhoek, and Paarl, but we only had time for the centuries old village of Stellenbosch.
Vineyards and orchards climbed from valleys and up hillsides, with the dramatic backdrop of purple-hued mountain peaks and sheer cliffs. Dutch manors were set amid stands of oak trees and fragrant flowers. At Fort Simon we toured an authentic-looking castle complete with moat; tasted scrumptious cheeses at Simonsberg; and strolled historic buildings and picturesque gardens at Neethlingshof. Of course, wine-tasting was involved too!
The grand finale: Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens. We ambled along winding, sometimes hilly paths, our senses bombarded by a kaleidoscope of smells and colors. Later, sheltered from the hot sun beneath tall trees, we spread our blanket and reclined on a wide grassy area. The sun sank slowly behind the grandiose backside of Table Mtn as we sipped our wine and melodious music from the S. Africa Navy Band wafted among the gardens.
Final preparations were made the following day before setting sail for the long voyage up the Atlantic. Rounding the Cape of Good Hope, we were fortunate to have only light winds, small swells, and no drama! South Africa blessed our farewell with a memorable sunrise—red and gold horizontal bands silhouetted Table Mtn’s dark hulk. In the deep blue sky above, wispy cloud patterns played tag. Ahead, the vast ocean beckoned us to new lands, new cultures, and new adventures. Until next time…
cheryldfitzgerald.com 