It’s funny how things start. I have no idea how it was that I discovered how pervasive sailing in our world was. It’s not something very many furries seem to do, unless they follow military discipline, or are pirates (arr!). Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, it’s not because cats are afraid of the water. Far from it. Granted, some of us might be less than thrilled about being dunked without proper preparation, but… who isn’t? The first large town I ever lived in, Layleaux (it’s far enough from where I live now that I doubt anyone reading this has heard of it) even has its own docks, and scheduled ferry service to the other towns around the lake, but… it was always ‘those people over there who do stuff on the lake, far from where I am, doing stuff here in town.’

After I moved, things were different. Of course I tended to stay with my kind, at first, in the furrier domains. It was reassuring. But on this end of the world, some things were Different Enough that I, being a cat, succumbed easily to my curiosities. One of them was the prevalence of lakes and waterways outside of Furnation. The other was that there seemed to be many, many more humans around. Humans with interesting ideas of recreation, such as hanging a sheet from a pole in the middle of a boat and racing them. What novelty! Of course I had to try it.

So, with some meager Linden clutched in my trembling paw, and a (very tiny) amount of research in my head, I bought my first sailboat. A Tako 3.2 which I promptly attempted to teach myself how to sail. I succeeded, I suppose… after a time I managed to not fall out, and kinda get it to move with the wind. Yay! Momentarily happy cat.

Then I saw something large, something exquisite, glide past me through the waters of Beibu. Beautiful wood, many masts, lots of sails shuddering in the wind… and me, little lost cat in her tiny dinghy. (I later learned it was a Trudeau Schooner that I had spied).

Something I tend to not mention too often, and that is generally overlooked… my mother was a dragon. Dragons hoard things. I’m really no exception. I had to have the wonderful thing I saw sail by. But I couldn’t yet afford it. I could, however, afford a little ketch, which has been happily serving me since.

This is all very longwinded and nice, but how does it relate to cruising in SL? Well, it’s very simple. Around the same time I bought Undine (my ketch), I took the Learn to Sail classes at SYC… I learned of racing, I was introduced to MBYC by a mermaid-shaped acquaintance that I met in Furnation one afternoon (an acquaintance who would eventually be my friend Evolving Yin), I sailed (poorly) in my first regatta… but in the background, I had Undine, and I spent probably as much time on her, if not more, circling the Adriatic and making hesitant trips up the rivers to Mowry. If I hadn’t picked up the ketch when I did, I probably would have been more focused on the competitive aspects of things sooner. And while that would have been good for my track record (as it is, a good day for me is when I place higher than 5th at SYC)… I probably would have missed out on a lot.

For instance: sailing through the passage at Drawbridge, staring up, slackjawed, at the bridge high overhead.

Feeling the triumph of making it up the river (beating madly against the north wind) and poking my way along the coast until I found Mowry.

Feeling even more exhilaration and triumph going back down that river, the wind at my back, shoving me along faster and faster, until the cone of Lauks Nest wheeled past my starboard and I slipped into the calm expanse of water that is Tasman.

There is so much in the world that I fear I would have never seen if I had stayed to the Tako, stayed on the race courses, stayed inside the (admittedly sociable and entertaining and otherwise generally fulfilling) world of the regattas and the yacht clubs. That I would have missed, if it hadn’t been for the schooner skimming past, opening my mind to the whole world of possibilities of ‘what is out there?’

I’m very happy when I see the non-competitive sailing community be furthered by the actions of people like Suzanne Zeluco, whose marina was my home until I moved to Mowry, and who continues to provide a starting place for the recreational sailor to explore the mainland. I think this is very important, and applaud her efforts.

I do plan to report on places to go, as promised (and as I am getting endlessly asked) but here’s the thing: it’s one thing to do it. It’s another thing to plan a trip, chronicle it, take pictures… these things take time. That said, I have a little time off, and an Indigo who is hounding me to do it, so I think something will be happening soon on those fronts.

Our world is big, and full of places to sail, and wonderful sights to see. I implore you: see more of them. Pick a start, pick a end (you don’t really need to pick an end), set sail and see what’s in between.

…My road calls me, lures me
West, east, south, and north;
Most roads lead men homewards,
My road leads me forth.

To add more miles to the tally
Of grey miles left behind,
In quest of that one beauty
God put me here to find.

- John Masefield