Episode #7: The Arrival

When you are traveling rough, you tend to idealize the comforts of home.

Suddenly there were only 300 miles left until we would reach land and it hit us that our trip and time on the ocean was drawing to an end. We had left the garbage patch, the water turned greener and more fruitful, our clothes and sleeping bags were all wet and we were really looking forward to get back onto our natural habitat: solid ground

The wind had died to a mere 7 knots, so we used the motor, traveling at a painfully slow 5 knots per hour. It would be ages until we reached land. And then, on the 18^th of August, there were only 2 more sea miles left on the display until we would get to St. Francis Yacht Club in San Francisco. Sea lions with fabulous mustaches greeted us by looking out of the water curiously.

It was late, after midnight. We stood on deck, silently. We were cold, wet, hungry and we didn’t speak much as we slowly motored underneath the Golden Gate Bridge towards our final destination. It was a moment most of us had strongly anticipated for at least a few days. And yet we were somber, quiet. When the phones of the others started getting reception (mine was dead, remember?), a strange sense of sadness overcame me, paired with a sudden strong longing for friends and family.

Well, this was the end of a pretty epic trip.

When we stepped on land, all we could think about was food. We marched 1,5 miles, swaying heavily, towards the only (apparently) open place nearby. It’s not like were in a place to be picky. When we got there, still chipper and excited about fast food that was not rice, beans, corn, spam or egg powder, the mood dropped to a unprecedented low when we saw that the place was dark, uninhabited, closed. We found food in the form of shitty American Pizza that night and my stomach was screaming with pain after raping it with a double mozzarella topping. The Pizza joint had a mirror in it and it was strange to see our sunburned faces for the first time, so tanned with skin peeling off the noses. My eyes were piercingly white, I saw myself looking happy and wild.

The next few days were a succession of outbursts of happiness. The first shower in a pretty disgusting shared bathroom in a dingy hotel was probably the best of my life. The artisanal hipster coffee the next morning was a taste sensation and eating fresh fruit made me clap my hands in pure joy.

For a few days after that, my hearing was incredibly detailed and when I sat or lied down for a while, the earth started swaying again. Only a few days after arrival, we went back on Patches for the press conference and I loved being back on the boat in the beautiful San Francisco bay.

One of the first things my mum asked me when she got me on the phone was “would you do it again?” and I said “Yes, but not on this boat.” Now, 6 weeks later, I need to correct myself. Of course I would do it again.

At this point, I would like to thank the crew again, I was really lucky to sail with with you guys and it was an honor to be part of your crew. We’ll see each other again, somewhere on this fantastic planet, I am sure.