In our four years of cruising, a few land birds found Cénou to be a refuge at sea. Probably pushed off track by some ill wind, these birds arrived alone and carried all the vulnerability of being specs in the ocean. They flew erratically, trying to rise, but quickly dropping back towards that undulating liquid trap before landing helplessly on Cénou. These lost land birds lacked any of the grace or presence sea birds have in that space they master between wind and waves. 

Early on, when they appeared on Cénou, we were happy. Maybe it was something else we could carry back to safety. Or perhaps we could empathize with the terror of being lost in a hostile environment. Even after twenty five thousand miles I have never gotten used to the times when the ocean gets big and the girls are sleeping at night. A night emergency in rough weather with two children seemed a small step removed from disaster and was never far from the back of my mind when offshore. So, perhaps for me, the sight of these lost birds held the two images of ocean travel: the surrender to the elements and the struggle to live in an environment that cares for nothing in ways that I understand.  

However, our happiness of seeing the birds choosing us was soon replaced with a dread. All the birds either died on board after failing to drink or flew off to vanish in the ocean. Never did these birds show up in good weather either, and they were always far from land.

Then one day, in the Med, between the Balearics and Cartagena, Spain, we picked up a barn swallow. While on deck he hung closer to us than the other birds had, and he suddenly flew right into the main cabin. After drinking without hesitation the swallow perched himself on one of Céline's school folders where he quickly fell asleep. 

He (but perhaps it was a she) slept in plain view and reach of us with a disconcerting amount of trust. Morpheus had him through night, even during the commotion generated by the Mediterranean style chaotic seas that slapped the boat. I looked at the swallow often during my watches, and his eyes were always closed.

We made an early morning landfall in Cartagena and the swallow was still there while we docked. However, by the time the lines were made fast he had vanished unnoticed. . .

All is well that ends, and after this traveling it will be good to settle on land too, at least for a while. The girls are happy to be back with their friends, Rike and I with ours. The last few months of our trip were a blur. We pushed through the Bahamas, and out of the Bahamas with lots of rain and some wind. 

We had a mooring drag in New York City which could well have caused the end of Cénou (see photos of a neighbor who did not fare so well on the website). On the plus side we had the visit of the Gaggini family and made some new acquaintances in Shelter Island, New York.

Cénou is now hauled out in Virginia and the mast was unstepped for maintenance. I will be working on the boat in the spring before a late May launch and hope to head north. 

In the meantime the reality lies with settling back.

All the best to everyone

Claude, Rike, Anouck and Céline