This is Jennifer, guest writing on the Starship blog. My husband, Dale, and I are nearing the end of our two weeks on the boat with Jason and Amanda, while Dylan is back in Winnipeg spending time with family and remembering what winter is like!

Before last week, I had spent exactly ZERO hours on a sailboat. River rafts, innertubes, canoes, kayaks — sure thing. A fishing boat on a remote lake — heck, ya! But salt water and 3,200 foot depths, never!! When Jason and Amada invited us to meet up with them in the Bahamas, we said yes and bought tickets, without really knowing what we were signing up for. Because it has been a magical two weeks, I wanted to share the perspective of boat life from someone who never imagined this at all.

If you’ve never been on a boat, but have spent time in an RV, you can sort of compare being on Starship to being on Uncle Mike’s 5th wheel. Everything has a place and everything is designed to fit the place it’s in. The drain plug in the sink in the bathroom head fits in the drain perfectly when upside down, too, so that it stays in place and the water can drain out. Cute AND practical.

And, yes, the head. Flushes with a hand pump and sea water into a tank. Just like on Uncle Ron’s RV, you have to like the people you’re sharing a head with 🙂

Next to the head is the galley, where Amanda COOKS. This woman, you guys. She makes two or three meals a day in a kitchen that is sooooo tiny. It has bars to strap her in if the seas get rough. We haven’t seen that, thankfully. She has to practically stand on her head to get into the bottom of their refrigerator. She tells us that she prefers cooking in the galley now to the idea of a big kitchen — I might even believe her!

I’ve soaked up a ton of new vocabulary since getting on the boat. Head, galley, companionway, bow, stern, cockpit (get out of the gutter, you!), starboard and port (which I can now differentiate). I was thrilled to learn that sailing is where English gets the term “tell-tale signs.” Maybe everyone else knew this, but tell-tales are the little strips of fabric on the sail that fly in the wind and let you know (from your position in the cockpit, at the helm) if the sails are taut enough and set correctly to the wind. Also, the whole notion of “running a tight ship” and being in “ship shape” make so much sense once you are on a boat and realize that having everything neat and clean and in its proper place matter when you are moving across open water. Sloppiness aboard a ship is dangerous. (My poooor knees and toes, getting banged on everything!)

We’ve also listened, mostly ignorantly, to Jason talk sea state and sailing craft with other sailors when we are docked or at anchor. In one of those conversations I heard the phrase “you haven’t been around if you haven’t run aground.” And now, friends, I can say that I have indeed been around. That is only partly accurate, since I wasn’t at the helm and Jason was, but I’ve seen it.

There is more to tell and I’ll let Dale share some of that from his perspective later. But one more story I wanted to tell: a few days ago we had to ride out some big wind and rain and made our way to a marina at Compass Cay. We arrived after dark, which is ill advised in Bahamian waters and especially at that marina, which advertised very shallow (or “skinny”) water and a wacky entry. The path in was not marked well and it was indeed super skinny. Amanda was standing on the bow, Jason at the helm and I think Dale and I were just holding on to railings trying to look supportive. Getting in was slow, tedious work–relaying messages from bow to helm; watching for lights and sticks that might be channel markers, but we got in. The next morning, Tucker, the marina owner, asked us to move onto another dock to make room for some bigger boats. So, Jason and Amanda moved us over in the marina, essentially parallel parking a 38′ boat against a wooden dock.

I was happy we were in a safe, natural harbour for some icky weather. But that second day, almost every sailor near us came over to congratulate Jason on two dockings well done. Slaps on the back and “nice work, Skipper,” and “well done, Captain” all over the place. If you are worried that a guy from Winnipeg couldn’t handle the big open water, worry no more. Starship and the Wards are totally cut out for this Big Trip!