Back on that test sail, I had felt a little nauseous.

It was nothing debilitating, but then again, we were just out for a quick spin around Haifa Bay. 

This time, after casting off, there would be no turning back: it was us and the unrelenting sea for at least 24 hours, until we reached Cyprus. 

M had warned me that seasickness was to be expected, and strongly recommended I equip myself with anti-motion sickness pills (“Kwells, if you can get them. Travamin will knock you right out.”) – and while I did buy a tablet, I was resolved not to use them. I reasoned that if I could power through that first long passage, I’d be set for the entire trip – but that if I succumbed to pills, I’d never feel at ease sailing without them, never knowing if I could hold my own. 

Still, M&S, both seasoned seafarers, took pills as a precaution as soon as we were out on the open sea – and I was starting to feel queasy. 

But I powered through – and as it turned out, I made the right choice. By the time we reached Limassol, I was fully acclimated to the boat’s rolling motion, could go below deck for long stretches of time, and generally function without any hindrance the sea might have posed. 

This was a huge relief; some people simply aren’t able to function on a boat, no matter how long they’ve had to acclimatise, and I had found out I wasn’t one of them. 

But things didn’t stop there. 

It seems I have a natural disposition to boating in general. During our time at sea, my intuitions were generally on point, my reaction times good, and my senses sharp. 

It took me less than 15 minutes to gain a good grasp of the boat’s dials, meters and electronic instruments, and I understood the dynamics between the boat, sails, wind and engine almost immediately. 

At one point during that first leg, the boat’s autopilot crashed – I caught on immediately and helped M get everything back under control within minutes. 

Fast forward a week, and M trusted me enough to defer to my judgement in a tight spot at the Paphos marina, where my directions literally saved the ship from incurring serious damage and very likely sinking.

On the day I’m writing this, nearly two weeks into the trip, M told me my inclination for sailing is one of the strongest he’s ever seen.

On the way from Limassol to Paphos, I found myself arranging ropes in an old maritime fashion. When M asked me where I learned to do that, I honestly couldn’t tell him.

In short, I feel like I’m slowly but surely living up to that “I grew up on a boat” line I was agonising over. 

Next post: Limassol, Paphos and Latchi: Cypriot marina life, and my impressions from the island. 

After that we’ll be chronologically caught up, so I might as well start blogging in real time now; this post is being written on the night of September 17. Tomorrow at 5 AM we set sail for Kastellorizo – the longest and most technical stretch of the trip. Hopefully, by the time we put into port, I’ll have the Cyprus post ready. See you on the other side!