"Are You Nervous?"

When chatting with friends back in NYC about this trip, I think the most common question I got was: "Are you nervous?"

And that's a complicated question.

(As an aside, the Australian pals I've talked about this trip with haven't asked that question once - lots of "where to?" and "what's the plan?" but not that. Maybe it's just the result of having mostly made boaty friends here.)

The really short answer is: yes, absolutely. Only an idiot wouldn't be a little nervous before setting off on an ocean passage.

But specifically, here's the things I'm nervous about, in rough order of priority:

• I'm nervous about any harm coming to my crew. They're well prepared, I've sailed with them before, and I don't have any doubts - but crew safety is such an important thing when we're only 2 people aboard a vessel offshore. I deal with this nervousness in two ways. First, I've carefully stocked our medical kit with just about everything that could be needed, and we've both taken courses to be sure we know how to use that equipment. Second, I've prepared the vessel carefully for safe operation at sea - lifelines, lifejackets with harnesses, and strict rules about how and when those are worn; plus plenty of gear to recover anyone overboard. It's never perfect, but I know I've done all the preparation possible to make this a good, safe vessel for crew offshore.
  
  
• I'm nervous about having missed some critical piece of vessel preparation. This one's a little easier to deal with. I've talked with people who own the same vessel, I've talked with both of its designers, and I've carefully gone over every part of the boat. I've also had the rig professionally inspected and replaced anything that looked even a little bit questionable. This one lingers, I think, only because I haven't gotten as much time to sail and shakedown the vessel as I would've liked. So, we'll do a 700+ mile shakedown cruise across the south pacific instead. It's not perfect either, but it's also too easy to say "well, just one more thing" and turn the boat into nothing more than a floating series of unending projects. I guess this one's really about prioritizing projects by what's most necessary, and working from those down through the "nice to haves" to the "bonus projects" beyond that.
  
  
• I'm nervous about big ships, unseen vessel traffic, and oceanic debris. There's no simple cure for this one - these are all hazards at sea for a small sailing vessel. But I deal with it by setting up the boat's sensors and technology to see as much as possible, and by training myself and crew on using those correctly. I'm also re-assured by the vessel's design - unlike a single-hulled vessel, this trimaran has about 12 watertight compartments, so a collision would have to be truly catastrophic to lose the boat. At worst, it would really ruin the trip and require major repairs, but shouldn't endanger vessel or crew. That helps me sleep soundly.
  
  
• I'm nervous about weather. I'm sailing an area I don't know that well, and only know its weather patterns from ongoing review of the daily and weekly weather over the last year or two. The boat is also set up with satellite communication to get fresh forecasts at sea, anywhere in the world. The weather is, always, a little unpredictable, but I've done all possible to know what to expect and keep us sailing in safe conditions.

That about covers the lingering nervousness before a big trip like this. There's an endless amount of unknowns, but that's true of anything in life - often with less ability to prepare and adapt than in this situation.

That all said, I'm not the least bit nervous about being at sea. And I'm not nervous about my or my crew's ability. And I know this boat sails beautifully and has done big ocean crossings before, and all of those are big encouragement to counterbalance the unavoidable nerves.

At the end of each day, as crew and vessel get swiftly more prepared for this trip, there's really only one nervousness I can't shake: the nervousness of letting anything stop us now. Of lingering in port out of fear rather than necessity. Of shying back from this dream because it contains those unavoidable unknowns.

The boat is ready, I'm ready, the crew's ready, and the ocean is out there laying its azure waves before us. Next stop, the wide Pacific.