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Soul Journey at Sea: Two Years Sailing from Catalina Island Through the Panama Canal
Soul Journey at Sea: Two Years Sailing from Catalina Island Through the Panama Canal
Soul Journey at Sea: Two Years Sailing from Catalina Island Through the Panama Canal
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Soul Journey at Sea: Two Years Sailing from Catalina Island Through the Panama Canal

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In my 20's in the early 1980's I became the invisible partner to my much older husband's dream of sailing from Southern California along the coast of Mexico, the Sea of Cortez, and Central America to Panama. I learned how to survive storms and bathe with jelly fish and sea snakes. I experienced sailing into a primitive c

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 1, 2023
ISBN9780996343732
Soul Journey at Sea: Two Years Sailing from Catalina Island Through the Panama Canal
Author

Bonnie-Jean Heather

Bonnie-Jean Heather was born in Long Island, New York, raised in Los Angeles, California, and now calls the Pacific Northwest home. Her sailing experiences included trips to Santa Catalina Island, Santa Barbara Island, and the Channel Islands of southern California; both the American and British Virgin Islands; the Sea of Cortez, the pacific coastlines of Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama including the Panama Canal; and the San Juan Islands of Washington State. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Business Management and a Master of Arts degree in International Care & Community Development both from Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington. She is a retired Human Resources professional.She is the author of "Soul Journey At Sea."She discovered she had a passion for writing when her favorite university professor made a comment on one of her class assignments "Great writer's voice. Do you hope to publish someday, or have you? You should think about it."

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    Soul Journey at Sea - Bonnie-Jean Heather

    Soul Journey at Sea

    Soul Journey at Sea

    Two Years Sailing from Catalina Island through the Panama Canal

    Bonnie-Jean Heather

    Copyright © 2023 by Bonnie-Jean Heather

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    Book and Cover Design:

    Vladimir Verano, Vertvolta Design

    Front cover/title page photography: © Conrad Ziebland via unsplash

    All interior photography: © Bonnie-Jean Heather


    References

    THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV®

    Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission.


    Author contact: bonnieheather2012@gmail.com


    Published in the United States by Bonnie-Jean Heather

    Dedicated to Jesus

    Title PageMap of sailing locations

    Contents

    Soul Journey

    About the Author

    Soul Journey

    This is a story told from my memories. My attraction to the man I’m calling the captain began while working together for a company near the Los Angeles airport. Out of respect for his privacy, I’m not mentioning his name. The year was 1973. I was 21 years old. He was 26 years older than me. Friends from work used to gather at the beach. I knew I was attracted to him when I saw him surfing. He was very different from the man at the office wearing a suit.

    We were married in 1974 on a gondola ride when I was 22 years old going up a ski slope in Mammoth Mountain. This was my second marriage.

    I honestly don’t know that much about the captain personally. He’d been married twice before. He had children from his first marriage who are about the same age as me. He described his second wife as someone who was beautiful. He told me I was pretty. Ouch! I know he was financially secure, but just how wealthy he was I have no idea. He invested in real estate. He never called me by my name. I was always babe. He had a temper but never physically hurt me. I got scolded often, like a child. He once told me, many years later, that he basically thought of me as his slave, and himself as my boss.

    I was self-consciously tall. I remember my mom often slapping me on the back and telling me to stand up straight. I had long dark blonde hair and green eyes. I had no qualms about wearing a bikini at the beach when we got together. I had low self-esteem, was shy, not popular in school, and liked to be alone. I had no idea that I could take care of myself. I thought I needed a husband to do that. I was not inquisitive about my husband because I felt it was none of my business. It was my responsibility to be obedient. But there was something about me, a determination hidden even from myself at the time, to fight.

    We lived steps away from the ocean in Hermosa Beach. After working for the same company, I left and the captain retired. I went to work in the aerospace industry. We held hands and went for long walks on the strand that went for miles along the beach. Once in a while we would go to the Blue Moon Saloon in the evening for dancing. He was so funny. He would get this far-away look in his eyes and pretend like he was really enjoying himself. Life was peaceful for the most part. I needed to prove to myself that I had some sense of self-worth. But it took years to figure that out.

    There wasn’t much conversation. He really wasn’t interested in my thoughts or how my day went. I didn’t have much of a personality. I did what I was told and stayed out of his business, which he didn’t share with me anyway. Growing up, my parents never inquired about my day or wanted to talk about what was going on inside of me, so I was used to being silent. I was the oldest—the so-called responsible one.

    In the mornings before heading off to work, I jogged on the strand with my married couple neighbors. He always wanted to make us laugh. He touched the toe of his shoe in the sand, then quickly withdrew it pretending to shiver before continuing to jog on the sidewalk. He’d race way ahead of us, then we’d see him looking bored sitting on a bench waiting patiently for us to catch up. Laughter was good.

    On weekends, the captain and I basked in the sun and body surfed the waves while occasionally tossing a frisbee back and forth. And we watched football on TV… lots of football, sometimes two games back-to-back. We cheered the Dallas Cowboys and their head coach Tom Landry. Why? I don’t know. He would lay on the couch with his head in my lap and snoozed occasionally throughout the games. I learned a lot about football.

    My grandmother invited me and my aunt to go with her to her hometown in Malmo, Sweden to celebrate her 70 th birthday with her large family. When I returned, the captain had a surprise. He had purchased a beautiful Siamese kitten. He named her Wraggs. She eventually became the boat kitty. She was devoted to him and wanted nothing to do with me. Oh well. She sure was cute though.

    He got the idea that he wanted to learn how to sail. That began the adventure of our lives. I didn’t question or think about where it was headed. We just took it step by step. First, he bought a bare-hull Garden Designed Gulf 32 sailboat and began the arduous task of finishing it out at a nearby shipyard. He was a genius at this kind of thing and the boat was completed to perfection. Next came sailing lessons. We started out learning in an eight-foot Sabot sailing dinghy. Then we graduated to a 16-foot Capri. We took navigation classes through the Harbor Patrol. At least I think that’s where we took classes. I practiced using a sextant while standing on the beach and immediately fell over backwards. I never could grasp how to use the darn thing.

    We also studied and got our Ham radio licenses. I got a General Class and had the handle KA6IME from 11/2/1993 to 11/2/2003. He got an Extra Class, of course. He had to be superior. No harm in a little competition though; after all, he was the captain. He liked to spend his down time on the boat listening in to other’s conversations. It came in very handy, especially when learning about a couple of situations that saved us from the same drastic fate. I enjoyed learning Spanish and reading some excellent authors like James Clavell, James A. Michener, and Herman Wouk.

    We had a Bible onboard. Having one was mandatory, like an anchor. The captain had no interest in God and I hadn’t caught the fever, yet. But I wanted to know more about the God that I was taught as a child in the Catholic Church in Catechism followed by Confirmation looking like a child bride. I guess my parents thought it was required and essential, even though they never went to church. I eventually learned that God was the real Captain in my life.


    What if


    What if it’s all false?

    What if everything I’ve been taught to believe is a lie?


    For now I see you

    Now I know you


    Scripture is true

    It has to be; it simply has to be

    There are too many witnesses


    I’m relying on the Spirit of Jesus

    He guides my thinking


    Every now and then he lifts me to his heaven

    And although I see nothing, I’m witnessing enough


    It wasn’t long afterwards that we got really, really brave and bare-boat chartered a sailboat, which means without a captain, in the Virgin Islands, on a 32-foot Erickson. I remember sheepishly telling the person who signed us up for the boat how experienced we were. We did manage to get the boat back safely after sailing the islands for a week. The scariest part of the trip was when we strayed outside Sir Francis Drake Channel. The wind was blowing something fierce. As novices, we weren’t used to that and quickly sailed back to the safety of the channel.

    The captain decided a good name for his beautiful sailboat would be Drifter. After he finished it out to his satisfaction, it was time for Drifter to be moved to a slip in Port Royal Marina in Redondo Beach, California.

    The author on a railing at a marina, in the background, ships are moored.

    We had many sailing trips to Catalina Island to the beautiful town of Avalon, Cherry Cove, Emerald Cove with its luminous emerald green waters, or in the Isthmus on the other side of the island. As we neared the

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