Navigating the Saint John River on a 25 ft Catalina: February 2015

Insecurities attach to me like leaches. Holding on for the ride, they build up anxieties over the inevitable "what ifs" of life. Why is it that as women, we second guess our abilities? As bestselling author Margie Warrell generalizes in her article, What's Keeping So Many Smart Women from Climbing the Ladder? (Forbes.com), "Women are more inclined to doubt themselves, underestimate their ability and second guess their decisions relative to than their male counterparts."

I have fantasized about taking my two best friends on a girls' trip down the Saint John River since the day we bought Ole Blue. Just us, some great food, good tunes, and zero stress. We finally find a free summer weekend, and that's when the reality of it sets in. I will be the only person with any knowledge of sailing onboard. I was the captain!

I don't know why this frightened me. Just the responsibility of it all I suppose. I had been sailing since I was a preschooler. I grew up in, on, or around boats, went to sailing school, practiced man overboard drills on my dads sloop. This hands-on experience surely had prepared me for boat ownership. Hell, dad's boat had an old Kelvin crank engine that I had to start on my own - by hand, with a kick-back that could dislocate your elbow! Surely I am capable.

But here I am... el Capitano. My best buds are counting on me not only for a fun time, but to keep them alive, and well.

As Ivana and Kim wait for me on the dock, I prepare myself for a lot of "firsts" that I was going to do on my own. It starts with taking the boat off her mooring by myself, and bringing her into the dock. Of course the dock was nearly full, except for a small 35 Ft gap (for my 25 Ft boat). I literally need to parallel park her, solo, between two power boats while my girlfriends catch the bow and stern lines. Winds light, little current - and I nail it! My adrenaline is pumping; I handle the first maneuver like a pro - success! And in front of an entire dock of men. I swell with pride. I can do this!

We head downriver from Gagetown Marina towards the Washademoak Lake. The skies are blue and the winds at five knots so we motor most of the way, but once inside the mouth of the much wider Washademoak, we unfurl the jib, and cut the engine. Peace at last! But with dusk approaching we need to get to our destination for the night, Big Cove, so we start the iron horse and furl in the jib. Pulling in behind the island and setting the anchor, we still have time to grab a drink and snacks before the sun set. Time to celebrate! I am elated. I conquered a significant fear of mine with the help of my two besties!

Three friends in the cockpit of a sailboat, a canopy of stars overhead, all inhibitions thrown to the wind. Our laughter carries across the water to the few cottages sprinkled along the shoreline. The entire cove is our own, and we love it.

The next morning the wind shifts to the north, meaning a nice sail across the Lake before navigating the snake-like waterways into the main part of the Saint John River. But first we need to try our hand at catching our breakfast. A beast of a pickerel stole our lure the night before, and we are determined to get it back. Ivana hops into the punt, rows to shore, and no more than 10 minutes later we hear her shouting "I caught one! What do I do?!" Kim and I jump up on deck, and shout excitedly "Kill him! Hit him on the head!" I hope none of the cottage-goers hear us!

Ivana choses a fish-killing-sized rock to do what she is told. The fish is out cold. She gets him in the punt, rows him out to us and holds him up on the line for a photo. No sooner does the camera "click" than the fish wakes up, wriggles free, and falls back into the water from which he came. And there he was... gone! Scrambled eggs and toast it is.

We pull anchor and set sail across the Washdamoak. In a good wind, it can get quite choppy, and we are getting some good waves. I am so proud of the girls, who have been raising and lowering sails, taking the helm for me with ease, and of course, living on a small boat for two days. They experience some moderate sailing before it is time to turn on the motor. With tunes cranked, and snacks at the ready, we travel north back to the Marina, back to the place where I threw my doubts to the waves and grabbed my abilities by the horns. There's no time to second guess myself when I have a boat to sail.