We named our little craft “Gwaihir,” after the Eagle Wind Lord from Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings.” Really, she was a wind lady and a rather dainty girl at that. The name was perhaps a trifle pretentious for such a small craft, but I thought it would be a lucky name. Gwaihir was a 16-foot Soling with a centerboard, which is a retractable keel. With the board up, she drew only 16-inches. I used to tell friends that Gwaihir could sail on a wet hankie. I believe 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 the tide, wind, or both to shift. Today, we have to get back in time for dinner … so we have outboard motors.
Sometimes, when the sea was calm and the wind was fair, we took Gwaihir out through Sloop Channel and Jones inlet to the ocean. Even a 3-foot roller looks huge when you are on the deck of such a small craft. My sailing partner was a madman on water. He would sail through thunder squalls because he liked the challenge. His father had been equally insane, so it must have been DNA.
Mostly though, I piloted her through the salt marshes, the shallow canals on Long Island’s south shore. She was ideal for shallow water sailing. We could move silently through nesting grounds of plovers, herons and divers, soundless except for a 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 signaled, they rose in a flock and flew onward to complete their long journey. And I sailed home.
SAILING – THE DAY OF THE MONARCHS
What a beautiful piece of writing!
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Thank you. It was a beautiful day 😀
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Magical. A gift.
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Amazingly beautiful experience. What a treat. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
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How lovely – thank you for sharing this experience.
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You are very welcome.
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wow=- how wonderful as you said, magical moment!!
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And no cameras because we never took cameras on the boat.
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well you’ve got the memory and a great one it is!
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That was back in early 1970s. We had film and cameras were manual . If a waterproof camera existed, i didn’t know anyone who owned one. Little sailboats are wet … so … no cameras. I’m glad I can remember it. It was special.
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Glorious!
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It was one of those rare magical moments in time.
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Reblogged this on Bette A. Stevens, Maine Author and commented:
Another amazing monarchs’ tale. This one’s from an amazing author/blogger, Marilyn Armstrong…Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Follow The Magic! ~Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com
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I didn’t know how short a time it would be before the monarchs began to disappear.
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You didn’t by chance hear some faint “thank yous” or a chorus of “good byes”.., by any chance, huh?
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I’m sure I did, but in butterfly.
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That was a priceless moment in time, thank you for sharing.
Leslie
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I don’t have a lot of sailing stories … a few. But this one is my favorites 😀
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Wouldn’t that be like magic, Marilyn, to see those Monarchs land?
Leslie
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I didn’t know that soon, those monarchs would be mostly gone. They were magic.
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and the memory stayed with you.
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How wonderful to waken to a flock of monarchs! Almost dream=like!
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It was dream-like. I was afraid to move, lest it go away.
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