Toronto, shit. I’m still only in Toronto.  Every time I think I’m going to wake up on the boat.  When I was home after my first charter, it was worse.  I’d wake up and there’d be nothing...  I hardly said a word to my boss until I asked for a leave of absence.  When I was there I wanted to be here.  When I was here, all I could think of was getting back onto the boat.  I’ve been back six weeks now.  Waiting for a mission, getting softer.  Every minute I stay in Canada I get weaker.  And every minute Ted squats on the foredeck he gets stronger.  Each time I look around, the walls move in a little tighter.

Everyone gets everything he wants.  I wanted a mission, and for my sins he gave me one.  Brought it to me through e-mail over the Internet.

I was going to the best cruising grounds in the world, and I didn’t even know it yet. Weeks away and miles up and down crystal clear waters that snaked through the Caribbean like a main circuit cable plugged straight into Ted.  It was no accident that I got to be the teller of Edward G. Reilly’s story, any more than being back in Toronto was an accident.  There is no way to tell his story without telling my own.  And if his story is really a confession, then so is mine.

Ted

I met Ted Reilly for the first time in 1988 racing J24s.  My black boat a.k.a... collided with his red boat Rasputin at a mark rounding.  Ted, being the animated Scotsman that he is, wasted no words sharing his opinion of what he thought of me.  Things went uphill from there.

By the time of that first meeting, Ted had already been in the J24 game for ten years.  He always liked to have a “performance” cruiser, so it was no surprise that he was drawn to the speed and lavish living quarters that J24s are known for.  In 1989, he traded in the red boat for a brand new white J24 that had been expertly prepared by Canadian sailing superstar Greg Tawastsjerna for the 1989 World Championship.  Ted wanted more “performance.”  At that point, he became unstoppable in the local racing circuit.

I could only beat Ted when the wind blew over 30 knots.  Toronto does not see these conditions very much, except for one brief streak in the summer of 1991.  For some reason, heavy conditions set in for almost every Thursday night in “Series 4.”  I managed to stop Ted from winning all four Series trophies.  It was during this period of intense competition that we became friends.

He retired from J24 racing in 1994 and upgraded to the J105, another “performance” cruiser.  His J24 experience paid off handsomely and he promptly cleaned up, everything, everywhere.  Only gold flags were permitted to dress the boat.  It was then that Ted cooked up the plan that would find him on a “performance” gin barge in the southern latitudes.

Ted’s Journey

Ted was in his early fifties and financially solid as a result of his career as Chief Financial Officer with a major steel producer.  He engineered a sweet retirement package in 1997 that left him in search of a new “performance” cruiser.  He toyed with the idea of a trawler until he stepped on his first catamaran, and that was that.

He had PDQ Yachts of Whitby Ontario construct a new PDQ36 from scratch, with options selected by Ted himself.  A tall mast, solar panels, and a power inverter were all added to prepare Highlander for some serious cruising.

The plan was to deliver Highlander down the Oswego/Erie Canal System, down the Hudson and on to the Chesapeake for a month of leisurely cruising.  From there, the journey would continue down the Intra-Coastal Waterway and across the Gulf to the Abacos for the winter of 2002.  In spring, Ted planned to deliver the boat back up to Nova Scotia in time to move in to the new house he was having built in Lunenburg.

A number of Ted’s sailing friends assisted in various parts of the delivery down.  As it turned out, they began the journey on September 12, 2001, one day after the WTC attack.  Two weeks later, they motored silently past the clouds of smoke from the still-smoldering ruins of lower Manhattan.  It was not a great way to start.

Ted’s wife Retta flew down for the Chesapeake and Abaco parts of the adventure.  The whole journey was the experience of a lifetime.  They settled in for six weeks at the marina on Man-O-War Cay where they simply enjoyed each day, one at a time.  This quickly became Ted and Retta’s favorite place on earth.

Gord Paperman and I were penciled in for the first part of the delivery home in early March.  It was over the Internet in January that I learned the details of our difficult task, through an e-mail from Ted:

Suspects - you are scheduled for the Feb23 to Mar9 leg of the delivery.  Fly in to Marsh Harbor and depart from Marsh Harbor.  Bring rum.  Cheers, Ted

It was then that Gord and I realized we were in for a treat - a delivery to nowhere!  Two weeks as guests of Ted Reilly in the Abacos.  Things were looking up.  Our final instructions were:

Suspects -  I haven’t researched the Marsh Harbor pubs yet, but unless you hear otherwise, I’ll meet you Feb23 in Mangoes about 12.30.  Cheers, Ted

Ted’s Way

We walked through the door of Mangoes promptly at 11:27 and Ted was pretty much where we expected to find him, on a stool perched at the corner of the bar.  We had a few welcome Rummers while Ted briefed us on what we could expect.  He had been there for several months and knew his way around, so we were content to just sit back and let him drive.

The Suspects method of cruising usually involves spending huge amounts of money on beverages and dining out.  We have income-generating jobs to return to and are short on vacation time, so we don’t worry too much about spending too much money.  Ted, on the other hand, was on a fixed retirement income with plenty of time on his hands.  I was concerned how the two approaches to cruising would pan out.  We were briefed on the cost conservation methods employed by long-term cruisers, methods that would be in effect.  For me, it was a great opportunity to experience cruising a whole new way.

Ted cooked and did a darn fine job of it.  The fish and conch we caught found their way to the dinner table.  Dinner on board became a ritual that I enjoyed very much.  The pantry was always short of something, providing some intellectual stimulation each day in the form of a meaningless trip into town.  Three naps, strategically scheduled throughout the day, were always welcome.  The Highlander Theatre showed some classic films, including Apocalypse Now, Blazing Saddles, and The Life of Brian.  We sailed, snorkeled, joked endlessly, and consumed the odd beverage every now and then.  Instead of the usual brain tumor, I awoke to a cup of coffee listening to the news and weather on The Net.  We really enjoyed just being there, anywhere down there actually, and I think that is the essence of long-term cruising.

A Real Gift

In the end, I have Ted to thank for showing us a new way to enjoy cruising.  We all had a wonderful time and the memory of this trip will be with me for years to come.  There is no question that sharing an experience such as this is a gift.  Thank you Ted - you are real gem!

The experience has given me something new to think about and has opened the door to some new possibilities with my own boat in the Windward Islands.  I have not yet figured it all out yet, but I know now that future trips will be different.

At this moment, Ted is thinking about the possibility of spending summers in his new house in Nova Scotia and winters on the boat in the Abacos.  This lifestyle becomes quite addictive, so I can understand the motivation.  Wait up Ted, I’ll be along with my boat in a few years.