Thirst and homesickness

Warning! Post contains homesickness. Or what Friedrich Stoltze wrote at that time:

It's a city on the wide world
Who like me as Frankfort,
And it wants to be in my kopp enei:
How can nor e Mensch from Frankfort be!

It is said that thirst is worse than homesickness. This is especially true in good weather in front of a beer garden. I now claim that the saying is wrong. A delicious drink can be found anywhere, but our Frankfurt is only available on the Main.

Frankfurt Romans during the Luminale on October 12, 2017 (Photo: Manfred Jonas)

I'm not really thirsty yet. We still have cider on board and can have a sip of Frankfurt at any time. But we have never been to Frankfurt for so long. I see that.

Our communication runs perfectly. We usually have good internet on board and can call home. We do that regularly. Occasionally we even use Skype so that we can see our parents again and not just talk to them.

We have met so many people in the past few months that could never be the case at home. Most sailors are very open people. When we have talked to new acquaintances in the cockpit for two hours, the acquaintance has almost almost become a friendship. It usually takes me months to reach this level at home. Maybe it's because most of the sailors we meet have a similar goal. Occasionally I get the impression that the Atlantic is getting cramped because so many boats want to go to the Caribbean. Perhaps it is also because most sailors have either taken a professional break or are already retired. Without the daily pressure to go to work, it is quite relaxed. Or it is the certainty that you only get on each other's mind for a few days. At some point the wind direction is correct again, the web community dissolves and everyone drives to their next destination. So you are forced to move quickly to a very personal level, otherwise important topics remain unspoken. I really appreciate this aspect of long-distance sailing.

I miss meeting places, friends and habits from Frankfurt. A friendship of many years cannot be replaced by a bridge acquaintance. Instead of going to the Waldstadion home games, we have to make do with the radio broadcast and cheer for the goals alone. As beautiful as it is on the way, we cannot sit anywhere on the banks of the Main. This aspect of long-distance sailing was clear to me beforehand, but I had no idea how intensely it would drill into me.

I don't always feel homesick. When the sails are up and Sissi hisses through the water, nothing is as far away as homesickness. It feels best when we are so far out there that we can only communicate with the satellite phone, without a cell phone network and without the blaring out of the radio. Then I'm deep in the now. Then the universe is limited to the few square meters of sailboat. Then the task is to arrive safely at the next goal. In front of the bow is the prospect of so much new, for which I like to let go of the familiar. In the night I like to switch off the ship's lights for a few minutes and enjoy the freedom to sail into the darkness under an undisturbed starry sky.

But if we are stuck, my thoughts often float home in the cockpit in the evening. It may even be the case that the ability to pick up the phone at any time increases homesickness. I would love to see our Eintracht live again or empty a meal in an apple wine bar. However, this train has left. At the beginning of June.

Frankfurt central station, platform 20, ICE to Amsterdam

In a few years I will go back to the banks of the Main and the forest station. Before that, I will go to the Canary Islands, the Caribbean and the South Pacific, see Australia and much more. This is going to be exciting!

This post appears during our crossing to Lanzarote. It is only about 25,000 nautical miles to Frankfurt.