The Odyssey
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Older & Wiser

One frosty Colorado morning, while I sipped coffee, my husband, John, said, “We need a lifestyle change. Let’s go cruising.�?I listened dumbstruck, as he continued, “Leslie, what if all our savings and possessions were in one small briefcase? Imagine standing on a sidewalk with that briefcase dangling in your hand; where would you want to go? What would you do next?�?Not taking him too seriously, I replied, “I guess I’d go to the beach, sit in a lounge chair and think about it first!�?BR>
John was obviously in the throes of a midlife crisis, and it was scaring me. In the ensuing weeks, I noticed his behavior changing. An avid technical reader, John was now reading things like How to Survive Without a Salary by Charles Long. My husband has always been an upbeat person, able to find new projects to keep himself motivated. Lately, John had been showing little interest in work and hobbies. His candle was burning low and dim. At fifty-four, he had enjoyed life as a university professor, but I could see he was ready for a metamorphosis, a new “lifestyle.�?BR>

John wanted to be captain of his own ship, to sail with me from Florida to South America and back. “Let’s rent a boat,�?I offered. But he insisted that we needed a lifestyle change. If we could come back too easily to our home and possessions, it wouldn’t qualify as a true change.

In the back of my mind were the sad stories of two couples who had recently divorced, after years of good marriages. I pictured the ex-husbands, in their mid-fifties, riding new red motorcycles, young girlfriends aboard, off into the sunset. I wanted to blame their failed marriages on those red motorcycles. Could their wives have been the ones riding on those motorcycles instead? I wondered.

It was clear that John had to do something about his longings. It was also clear that I wanted to be part of whatever he did. So, I decided to invest in John’s midlife-crisis recovery plan. “Okay, I will do this with you, but only for one or two years, max. What’s two years in a whole lifetime?�?I rationalized.

Weekly planning and budget meetings soon followed that cold January morning. We read about other people living the cruising lifestyle. In May, John requested sabbatical leave. In June it was approved, and I left my job soon after. We took two short trips down the East and West Coasts, shopping for a boat and a launch pad where we would begin our sailing odyssey.

In July, our home sold the first hour it was on the market. At that moment, it became utterly real to me that we were really going to do this “lifestyle�?change! In a blur of garage sales and donations, we frantically got rid of STUFF that took us ninety-six combined years to accumulate.

Time was money now. For the first time as adults, we were unemployed and living off our savings and retirement monies. Decision-making got easier. We needed to buy a boat soon and start sailing before both our time and money dried up.

Homeless now after closing on our house, we put the proceeds into a beautiful near-new, forty-foot sailboat named Sola Fide, which means “faithful one�?in Latin.

We drove our overstuffed ten-year-old compact car to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and rented a studio on a canal. With Sola Fide steps away, we began the sweaty process of outfitting her for ocean voyaging. Days turned into months as we hunted for marine gear and installed “homey�?additions like a wind generator, a water maker, a bank of batteries, and a freezer cold plate. I was shocked at the costs of all these “necessities�?and wondered if we would slip the dock lines before our money ran out.

Our big day finally arrived and we set sail. Our plan was to sail a loop from Florida to Venezuela and back, enjoying all the beautiful islands along the way.

We were novice cruisers with only limited sailing experience from brief chartering in the past. We picked up “just-in-time�?cruising skills as we lived aboard our little vessel 24/7. Most of our sailing was during the daylight hours, with an occasional ocean passage in the blackness of night. I learned that you can’t just stop your boat and anchor in 6,000 feet of water; you have to keep sailing until you reach a safe harbor.

There were dangers among all the pleasures. Occasionally we were challenged by heavy wind and sea. We met an unfortunate cruiser family that endured the loss of their boat. We also met cruisers who had gotten roughed up by modern pirates. John helped rescue cruisers who had run aground or who were dragging anchors.

Somehow our marriage survived this dramatic change of lifestyle. John took out a big “marriage-insurance policy�? Thirty days into our trip, stressed-out over the steep learning curve, and getting a full dose of my ranting and wailing, John looked me in the eye and said, “Leslie, if you want to turn around at anytime, we can quit. Our marriage means more to me than this odyssey.�?Those were the most loving words I had ever heard. Knowing I had a parachute to safely escape with my husband, not without him, helped me endure the discomforts of this pioneer-like life. Curiosity also kept me going. I wanted to know everything this new way of life could teach me.

As we sailed the islands, we took time to enjoy the companionship of the locals and other cruisers, some of whom have become close friends. We had new adventures every day. When weather kept us at anchor, we got involved locally and in volunteer work, tutoring and reading with young children. One exciting day, we helped save dozens of beached pilot whales in Trinidad.

As our midlife odyssey approached the end of its second year, we sailed back up the islands to our Florida starting point. It was bittersweet to be home again. We were filled with new understanding and appreciation, and a renewed confidence that we could accomplish anything we set our minds to.

I am glad I responded positively to my husband’s passionate desire to break out of our everyday lives. As we sailed, my own midlife voice spoke, having awaited this opportunity to be set free. It helped me rediscover myself. I learned that I am tough and resilient. Sometimes, we must step outside ourselves to learn who we really are. I am glad I experienced this radically different way of life. It was simple and freer than any I had ever known.

So where do you want to go? And what do you want to do now?