“So, Erika. Is this your last sailing?”

We were halfway our watch, just as the sunset was beginning, when Pablo asked me such question. Between the main sail and the horizon, my gaze danced for various seconds deciding where to stop, until it did on the last one. “Yes,” I answered, without taking my eyes off the horizon. The sea has a way of stealing your gaze and holding it still, on itself, for seconds you cannot measure. I waited for Pablo to ask the question that typically accompanied the last one; the one that inquiries about your future plans, but this time it escaped tradition. Thus, I looked back at the sail.

That afternoon we had lowered three sails: the Main sail, the Foresail, and the Spiritsail. The wind had completely inflated the three and, along with the engines, they pushed us through the waters of the Gulf of Mexico at a speed a little over 8 knots. Our next destination was Galveston, Texas.

Jaramillo, Tian and Sergio were taking pictures up there, on the belly of the Main sail. They were, and I quote the first one, “filling themselves with the experience of sitting on the sail by the sunset.” I waited, anxious, for Jaramillo to come down, so that I could live the same galleonic experience. Anxious, because: the original plan was to come down the shroud after being full of the experience, but someone suggested the idea of sliding down the sail to the main deck… and I still have not overcome the tension of being up there.

Pablo reassured me that as long as I was hooked to the safety lines, there was nothing to be worried about. He said, most of all, I had to “try and enjoy it, because that’s what it’s all about.”

My answer was a feeble “I know.”

Then Jaramillo came down, and I mean, slid down. So did Tian, and in the near future Sergio would be doing so too.

Wow, peer pressure at its best.

After Tian, I started to climb up. I don’t remember if my heart was pounding that hard because of the exercise or because of the adrenaline, or even if it had been that loud before. I reached Sergio, who I stopped from preparing to go down. I wanted company for this moment.

“Sure, no problem,” he had said as calm as he’s ever been, and then continued to explain me how to secure myself up there.

Thus came the intermission. Peaceful and relaxed, I sat beside Sergio to admire the sunset and the 360 degrees of water around us. The sea had a deep turquoise color that clashed with a violent orange sunset. It was beautiful.

Minutes later, Jaramillo rushed Sergio to go down and his words I threw me back to that present. Would I be climbing down the shroud, or descending through the sail? My mind had a struggle like this:

You’ve already gone up and seen the sun, all’s perfect now. So forget the sail, gow through the shroud and that way you’ll be more calm…… But you don’t get to slide down a sail always. How many times will you find a galleonic experience like this?…… Does the galleonic experience really matter?……. But you have to conquer this fear!

Meanwhile, Sergio busied himself with explaining me how to slide down safely, because if I was to go down through one or the other, at least he made sure I knew how to do it. Jaramillo laughed, asserting that I was not capable of the most daring feat. According to him, I lacked strength to hold myself.

That hurt my ego… What kind of a circus artist is not capable of lifting its own body?? Strength I had and if it’s strength what I really needed, then nothing could stop me.

I looked at Sergio. “I’m sliding down,” I told him. And he smiled. Deep down, I think he always knew I was choosing this.

Sergio went down, and slowly I walked to the takeoff buntline. Below, Tian had my camera ready to film. He waited for my final signal.

Hold on and for the love of God, don’t burn your hands.

I dropped.

And once below, my lungs boomed with laughter. I did it!

So if they ask me again what I will be doing after the galleon, my answer will run across these lines:

“Let the adventure begin!”

Erika Marrero