We named our little sailboat Gwaihir, the wind lord. Really, she was the wind lady. A bit pretentious for such a little boat, but I thought it would be a lucky name. She was a 16 foot soling, a centerboarder, drawing just 16 inches with the board up. I used to tell people Gwaihir could sail on a wet hankie and I believed she could.

She was a surprisingly stable craft. We carried a 5 HP outboard motor so when tide and wind were against us, we could still get home. In the old days, sailboats had to drop anchor and wait for one or both to shift. Today, we have to get home for dinner … so we have outboards.

When my husband had the time and felt particularly frisky, we took Gwaihir out through Sloop Channel and Jones inlet into the ocean. Even a 3 foot roller looks big when you are on the deck of such a small sloop. My husband was a madman on the water, would sail through thunder squalls because he liked the challenge. His father had been equally insane, so I guess he came by it honestly, if such a thing is possible.

Mostly though, I piloted her through the salt marshes and shallow canals off Long Island. She was perfect for shallow water sailing. We could sail through nesting grounds of plovers, herons and divers, virtually silent except for the slight flapping of the jib. The birds were undisturbed by our passage and went about their business, our white sails wing-like in the breeze.

One bright day with a warm sun lighting the water and the sky blue as a robin’s egg, I anchored in a shallow, reedy spot, lay back on the bench and drifted off to sleep as I watched little puffy clouds scoot across the sky.

I awoke a while later and our white sail was covered with what seemed to be thousands upon thousands of monarch butterflies. I had drifted into their migration route and they had stopped for a rest on my little boat.

I didn’t move or say anything. Just looked up and watched, thinking that if ever there had been a perfect day, crafted for my delight, this was it.

Then, as if someone had signalled, they rose in a flock and flew onward to complete their long journey. And I sailed home.

Related articles

• Of monarchs and milkweeds: How one species’ pest is another’s repast (4writersandreaders.com)
• Monarch Butterflies (4writersandreaders.com)
• The year the Monarch didn’t appear (sott.net)
• The monarchs are in trouble (melissawiley.com)

Categories: Ecology, Nature, Personal

Tags: anecdote, Butterfly, centerboard, Ecology, Long Island, Monarch butterfly, Personal, Sailboat, sailing, soling