Embracing the Sailing Life: Our Journey from Lakes to Oceans
Updated: Oct 5
Starting Small: Our First Steps into Sailing
We didn't start offshore. We started small. Sophia was just three and a half when we got our first boat, a Compac 16. We sailed it on the lakes around our home in Connecticut. From day one, she was fascinated by it.
One day stands out vividly. We were out on the lake when the weather turned fast. Suddenly, we were caught in a hailstorm. The cabin was tiny, just big enough for Sophia and me to squeeze into. Tony was out there, battling the elements to get us back to shore while Sophia and I watched from our little shelter. That moment became one of our favorite stories from those early days.
Our first "real" boat was a Tartan 28. This was the boat that took Sophia into ocean water for the first time. Initially, we made weekend trips around Long Island Sound—places like Watch Hill and Fisher Island—before we ventured up to Newport, RI. That’s where we truly learned coastal and ocean sailing together. Looking back, that was the right call.
Prep Before We Cast Off
Those early days on the Compac and later the Tartan did more for us than we realized. By the time we were out on the Sound regularly, the motion of a boat felt normal to Sophia. We showed her the chart, talked through our destination, and made the unknown feel like an adventure instead of a threat.
We packed light and smart. Quick-dry clothes, sunscreen, hats, and snacks were essential. We learned about seasickness the hard way, so we always had meds on hand. Her cabin was filled with books and coloring supplies, giving her quiet time to play.
A life jacket that fit properly was a must. We practiced putting it on until it became automatic. Boring? Yes, but boring is good. It means she’d know what to do when it mattered.
Keeping Her Engaged Underway
A bored kid is a problem. To keep Sophia engaged, we gave her jobs—coiling lines, spotting wildlife, anything that made her feel useful. Dolphins are rare on the Sound, but seals aren’t. Spotting one was always a big moment. She loved watching other boats go by and even dropping a line to fish. All of these activities became staples of our weekend trips.
We balanced work with downtime. Coloring, reading, or simply watching clouds helped her unwind. She needed both.
We made a little ritual out of reaching safe anchorages for the night. Each time we arrived, it felt like a small victory. We made it! And when we finally reached our destination, we’d take her to the beach. Her eyes would light up, taking it all in. Those little moments added up, weekend after weekend.
Meals became a group project. Simple dishes that she helped prepare made it more fun. We kept snacks within reach—fruit, crackers, cheese—whatever could survive the heat.
When plans changed, we learned to roll with it. The sea doesn’t care about your schedule. We stopped fighting it early on.
Navigating the Challenges
We won’t pretend it was all smooth sailing. Seasickness happened. Meltdowns occurred. Fresh air, ginger candy, and distraction got us through more than one rough patch. Calm anchorages helped too. We learned to pick our battles with the weather.
Sometimes, she needed space. A quiet corner of the boat or a solo walk on the dock provided small resets that made a big difference. She could sense our energy. When we stayed calm, she stayed calmer.
Why We Kept Going
No screens. No distractions. Just us, watching her light up over a fish on the line, a seal surfacing nearby, or finally tying a knot right on that little Tartan. We started a family journal in those early days. Each day, she’d add a drawing or a note. Looking back through those first pages now, we see how much that time shaped her.
The Journey of Growth
Sailing with a child isn’t about ticking off a checklist. It’s a messy, beautiful experience filled with waves, wins, and the relief of finally dropping anchor. We realized how much we loved that time together. Watching Sophia grow into this life, seeing her fall in love with it alongside us—that’s what sold us on the whole adventure.
Slow down. Be present. Start small if you can. Celebrate the little anchorages. That was the trick. Watching her on those beaches, soaking it all in, made us realize we wanted more—a longer trip, further out. That’s when we began searching for a Bahamas-worthy boat.
We found a Hunter 376 up on Lake Champlain and brought her home to New London Yacht Club on a two-week delivery trip. We soaked it all in—stopping throughout Vermont and New York. We even timed it perfectly to be in New York for the 4th of July fireworks. It was one of the best trips we’ve had, and we learned more about boats on that delivery than we expected—including how to take the mast down to get through the locks.
That boat took us to the Bahamas for our first year out. After that year, when we returned home, we picked up a bigger boat—our Hunter 45DS.
These days, that’s the boat we call home. Years and thousands of miles have passed since that first hailstorm on the Compac. But it all started small—on a lake, with a child getting used to the gentle rock of a boat, watching boats go by, and reeling in her first fish. And the rest? Well, that’s history.
Comments