Miss You Already

Ah, 2020, I should have known you would save the best for last.

While original plans had me packing for an epic sendoff to 2020 aboard Elysian, this week I said goodbye to her. Just when I got comfortable on the jet-skis, too. Listen, I am fully aware that no longer having Elysian is very much a “champagne problem” – but, if you stick with me for a second, you’ll understand a little bit better about why it’s so hard.

All good things come to an end; we all know this. But the knowing doesn’t make the end much easier does it? It is a bit surreal, honestly, to have a place you consider home to suddenly become someone else’s. And of course, 2020 refuses to grant me a proper goodbye. So, I will do my best to say it now.

First, I'd like to go back to the beginning - to the maiden voyage of the Elysian in June 2016. Back when we were less burnt and bruised and sun-soaked - back to the bow as we transitioned Elandess to Elysian. “What’s in a name?” Romeo famously asked. Well, a lot. My family logged an embarrassing number of hours trying to agree on a name. The decision felt too big, too beyond us. We started with a list of around twenty names. When we went to narrow those down we, somehow, ended up with fifty names. Nothing felt right. Finally, my Dad said enough is enough and made us all vote – very democratic of him. Well, aside from the fact that it was noted that, as always, my Mom had the ultimate say.

So, finally, it was decided: Elysian.

Elysian (adj.): Beautiful or creative. Divinely inspired. Peaceful or perfect.

My Mom has always insisted that ships have souls. As a previous skeptic, I can admit now, she is right. I refuse to believe that Elysian doesn’t have a soul – whether she was born with it or we fostered it from splashes of champagne and sprinkles of sand and sea water isn’t clear – but she is certainly alive. Back in 2016, I wondered, did our Elysian know then she'd live up to her name? As we took her down a new path, was she confident of her magic and power? I can't be sure, but as we all stood in ceremony, anxious and eager, curious and boiling over with excitement about what was to come, I think she did.

Over the years, she’s given us countless days in paradise, where the stresses of home didn’t matter, weeks where wonderfully random mixes of moments: laughs, boat jumps, messy hair, sun burns, salt water, delicious food, hikes and swings, games and relays, funny accents, elaborate costumes and dance routines, and yes, tequila, all blurred together to create the most special memories.

Elysian’s soul and strength held us through these moments – but she also did something else. As if a magnet for good vibes and values, she brought so many wonderful people together. Friendships and relationships were born and/or deepened over the years because of her.

So, what I’ll miss most about the boat isn’t the boat – even though in all her glory she no doubt demands to be missed. No, what I’ll miss the most are the moments she created, the relationships she fostered, the lessons she taught, and the hearts she captivated.

Personally, she’s seen me grow up, makes mistakes, take chances, overcome heartaches, and find new direction. I’ve made some of my biggest decisions during the time Elysian intersected my life. Sure, not all of them were made aboard, but many of the hours spent contemplating them, sitting on the swim platform or gazing up at the stars, were.

We had countless family and friends experience Elysian with us, which has made for some of the best memories. I’ve witnessed so many exciting firsts for people – dives, snorkels, cliff jumps, castle explorations, new foods and cultures – and it’s been incredible. I’ve always loved the ocean and have been blessed to have been able to explore it often, but many others haven’t. Seeing someone’s face light up when they see a sea turtle for the first time or hearing the burst of surprised and delighted laughter when someone pets a nurse shark has brought me so much joy. I know what the ocean does for me – and I’m so glad Elysian has helped do it for others. I’ve had light and deep conversations with people I never would have without the circumstances provided on a trip aboard (extended time, inspiring settings and people, and yes – wine), and some of those conversations have changed the way I think about myself and the world. I’ve seen new sides of people I’ve known for years. I’ve become closer to friends who I didn’t even know I could get closer to. Elysian also allowed for uninterrupted time spent with my family – something that gets harder and rarer as we all get older and lead individual lives. I’m so blessed for the many meals, adventures, cocktails, celebrations, and moments we’ve been able to share together.

Speaking of family. To the crew. I’ve tried many times over, but I’ll never truly be able to come up with the words to accurately describe my gratefulness. Of course, I’m thankful for your service, the long hours, and the above and beyond experiences you provided. How could I not be? But what I’m really thankful for are the early morning conversations in the bridge over coffee (Studs, Jon, Captain G), the sneaky glasses of rose and girly gossips sessions (Jen, Amy, Sarah, Dani, Natalie, Mon, … okay all the girls!), the long & mostly random chats on the swim platform (literally anyone on the deck), the cheap beers and the bottle service, the belly-laugh inducing inside jokes (“We’re NOT going to do that!”), the margaritas in #tramplife, the videos of your children, friends, and family back home, the birthday shots and choreographed dances, the 100+ hours logged trying to teach me wakeboarding (Nic, Chad, Adrian), the spare beds to sleep in and friendly faces to see while traveling (Precious Castang Family, Chad & Hannah, Captain Mark & Penny), the hikes and snorkels, the texts wishing me good-luck on a business presentation I’d been working on, the song recommendations (hey Josh – where’s my “sit in bed with my cats and cry over this” vibes playlist?), and especially the advice and the courage you gave me time and time over.

I’m thankful for what you taught me – about other cultures and countries, about the ocean, about being brave, about handling change, about being selfless, about life. I’m thankful for the bravery you gave me to explore the world and go against paths I thought for sure were already set for me, to find my own – I’m not sure I could have ever done it without witnessing it from all of you (and without Studs and Jen walking me to my first hostel …). You’ve seen me at my worst (and, um, drunkest) and you’ve helped me be my best. I am undoubtedly a better human because of all of you. Mad mad mad love for all of you – from the bottom of the ocean to the freaking moon.

Whether I truly felt a premonition of what was to come or I’m now just projecting on a past memory, on my last voyage, I remember a specific moment so clearly. The sky and the water were crystal blue, a blue only the Exumas’ can boast. I’d just come up from an incredible dive with a couple of the guys (shoutout Jon & Ashton), 1955 was blasting from the stereo and I had a cold Stella in my hand. I remember thinking, looking off into distance, “Alex, remember this exact moment. Remember how you feel right now. Keep this safe, tuck it away.” There are plenty of smaller moments that will eventually wash away and blur into larger ones – but this one moment, will stay buoyed to the surface. A moment in time I can return to whenever I need. Closing my eyes now, I can feel the sunshine on my face and the salt on my skin.

“I wish there was a way to know we were in the good-old days while we were actually in them.” The thing about Elysian was … we knew. Every day, we knew.

I’m sad. Actually, I’m probably sadder than I realize. I am also at peace – a strange combination, yes, but somehow both can be true.

I find tremendous peace knowing that while she is fading from my horizon line, off into a new future that leaves me on shore, she is still out there – possibilities endless. I’m hopeful that her power continues on to create many new memories for whomever she encounters. Fair winds and following seas, Elysian. I’ll forever keep an eye out for your silhouette, fingers crossed for even the briefest glimpse, and when I do see you again, I will smile.

Miss you already.

I am standing upon the seashore.

A ship at my side spreads her white

sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.

I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud

just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says;

"There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull

and spar as she was when she left my side

and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone

at my side says, "There, she is gone!"

There are other eyes watching her coming,

and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;

"Here she comes!"

Henry Van Dyke