Letter 118: Trusting the Waves
Letter 118: Trusting the Waves
When we just push on
Happy Wednesday!
One of these days I’m going to write a letter about my incredible book club—a group of women, aged 20s to 60s—who delight and amaze me every six weeks via Zoom. Members are located all across the US and the absolute best part of the whole thing is that the women teach me something new, every single time we meet. I’m grateful to have today’s writer, Shannon, as a part of this group. I’ve known Shannon since I was a high school teacher and she was a student, but I’m grateful to get to know her better through book club. Shannon’s wit and incredible ability to sharply synthesize any topic with assertive directness and clarity is a skill hard to come by. I also love that she always refreshingly tells it like it is and is driven by an adventurous spirit which you’ll read about in full force today. —Molly
“You are a miracle. Act like it. Don’t waste it.”
—adrienne maree brown
I often think about how a sibling is the longest relationship of our whole life. Parents hopefully die first, and partners arrive when we are mostly baked, blissfully unaware of the journey to mostly functional adult.
My sister, Katie, and I have always been close: We shared a bedroom for 15 years, a car (lots of fro-yo), and later, trauma. Our dad died in our early twenties, forever altering our family dynamic. As the oldest, I slid into his roles, bringing his face on a sign to her graduation and helping my mom and sister with classic dad topics: finances, cars, and home projects.
In 2022, my sister and I were among 150 vessels on the starting line for an endurance human-powered race in a heavy, old red canoe ready to test our mettle against the Salish Sea. The race started in a downpour one June Friday night, and my worn spray gear from college was not up to the challenge. I sat in a puddle getting into the boat, serendipitously starting the adventure with soaked base layers.
We made it to the first check in off Owen Beach as the sky languished into twilight. The silhouettes of racers on the horizon faded into navigational lights. The darkness began to mess with my sister’s motion sickness.
Shockingly early in the race, Katie completed a bingo of *all* bodily functions in the boat by vomiting overboard. Then, in the recovery, dropped her paddle. I fought to pivot the canoe alone and, paddle returned, we relaxed. Yes, we should have brought a spare.
We reached Blake Island, 25 of the 70 miles down, at 2:15 am. We could see tents pitched but knew our plan was different. With a slow canoe, we didn’t have time to sleep if we wanted to finish. We stood our damp bodies under the bathroom hand dryers, cycling them around until my pants felt barely drier and left the island to its’ notorious raccoons.
The day drifted slowly along. The wind, however, had other plans. After hours power-paddling into 25-knot headwinds and three-foot waves, we’d made no forward progress in the biggest open water crossing.
With just 15 miles left, the fuchsia clouds turned ominous gray and Katie’s will faltered. I was not open to quitting, but she compromised with a clear boundary. “I’m fine paddling in big waves, and I’m fine at night, I just don’t want to paddle in big waves at night!” As our radio crackled dead, in that moment, my little sister seemed right.
We knew what had to happen when we beached. I tied the canoe to a log, and, concerned about my wet clothes, stripped naked and wrapped myself in our sleeping provisions: an emergency blanket and a thin sleeping bag liner. My sister made a depression behind the log and I climbed in. Katie climbed in clothed, covering us both in a puff poncho and tarp. We snuggled up with our hands in a prayer position to stretch our paddle claws.
At 1AM, we awoke to thrashing. Katie went to check on the boat, and deemed conditions fine. We started paddling in the dark and eating caffeine chews, wondering if we saw real bioluminescence or if we were losing it.
In seven hours, a comforting drizzle welcomed us to Port Townsend after 37 hours and 11 minutes of paddling.
The relief was palpable as we hugged and rang the bell for a picture. I love this picture because I’m wearing the emergency blankets as pants underneath my rain pants.
Each time I look at my sausage legs and our weary, triumphant smiles, I’m reminded of the courage and trust it took for us to make it to that finish line. We are no strangers to this feeling, whether it’s in a fight in the woods or during a tough season of life where we simply need each other.
We have lived through so much together, enabling us to rise to the great challenge of sisterhood: to meet each other exactly where we are and gently, but steadfastly, push each other to become the best versions of ourselves.
Shannon’s 5 Favorite Things:
Maintenance Phase podcast: Aubrey and Mike debunk health and wellness myths with data, excellent jokes, and heal my complicated relationship with body stuff with every episode! Recommend: “The Body Mass Index” for initial listening, any of the Oprah episodes for a wild ride, and “Ozempic” for a hot topic.
Lavender London Fogs: I have elevated my at-home coffee game and make them with either lavender simple syrup (equal parts water and sugar and 2-3 lavender tea bags microwaved until dissolved, and cooled) or adding a lavender tea bag and a spoonful of turbinado sugar in with the earl grey tea bag, and topping it off with steamed milk.
Must-follow on Instagram:@wizard_bisan1, @byplestia, and @motaz_azaiza. These young people have become the journalists of Gaza and are documenting the unthinkable with incredible poise and courage. Please consider calling/writing your reps to demand a ceasefire now!
boygenius: Their most recent album is a work of art! Lucy Dacus, Phoebe Bridgers, and Julien Baker can do no wrong. Listen to their perfect harmonies on “Not Strong Enough” or their simply exquisite cover of the Scottish traditional song “The Parting Glass”
Free Wave Hazy IPA by Athletic Brewing Company. I’ve been drinking less (and more mindfully) for some time now, which has saved my liver, wallet, and most importantly, sleep. These are stand-alone delicious and satisfy the desire without the negatives, and we have a subscription where they mail new, seasonal and exciting flavors each month.
In gratitude,
Shannon Nardi
P.S. Sharing with brave vulnerability & finding symbolism in our journey.
