Welcome back to the fourth and final part of my story! If you’d like to catch up, I’ve published Parts 1, 2, and 3 on each of the previous Mondays.

We had our girl, she was newly re-christened “Callista,” and we had a plan to head to Mallorca for Winter Break, with a few days in Barcelona just because Barcelona is amazing.

I booked a plane ticket to Mallorca in advance of the rest of my family. Vanessa and I planned a fun few days, shopping for everything we could think of for the boat: linens, kitchen items, decor, barware, and anything else that caught our eye. Bill and the kids would follow three days later, and then we would spend some time enjoying Mallorca and sailing a bit. Bill and I looked forward to introducing the kids to Barcelona, too.

The day before I left, Darcy came down with a fever. I took her immediately to the doctor, fearing the worst diagnosis of flu. The flu test, done within hours of her fever starting, came back negative, even though she was completely symptomatic for flu. I was panicked but the doctor refused to give her anything, even a prescription for Tamiflu. “Just a virus.”

Ordinarily, I’m pretty sanguine about medications. I think that rest and fluids are often just about as good as Tamiflu, and my experience has borne that out. But this time, with a family trip to Europe only a couple of days away, I felt like some flexibility was in order. I got no help at all.

We decided that I would go ahead and leave, even though Darcy seemed to be getting worse. At that point I was really stressed about Darcy getting sicker and everyone else getting sick, since we would be in pretty close quarters on the boat. I got on the airplane, and Bill called our completely delightful house-call urgent care folks. (I swear, why do we bother with the regular pediatrician?)

I landed in Barcelona to the news that Darcy had a confirmed case of the flu, and that we now had four prescriptions for Tamiflu (to be used if anyone else started having symptoms while on the trip), a decongestant for Darcy and also steroids for her, again a “just in case” medicine to be given in the event of a relapse.

Seriously, the flu.

Darcy did recover, and Bill got to Palma de Mallorca a few days later with three sweet kids in tow. Vanessa and I had done our darnedest to outfit the boat. I’m laughing to think of how often we filled up their little red rental car with pillows and housewares, of pushing an “Il Corte Ingles” shopping cart through the Bulgari jewelry department of that beautiful store and out onto the crowded boulevard, and of Roland quickly returning the banner he had bought to welcome everyone on board because it said “Congratulations—It’s a BOY” in Spanish.

Everyone got to the boat and we passed an amazing few days in Mallorca. What a beautiful island, and what a treat staying right on the water there. We left with promises to see each other soon in Antigua—a short seven weeks away during our school’s Spring Break. It was amazing to think that Callista would be on the other side of the world that quickly.

Darcy did relapse while we were in Barcelona, in Parc Gruell to be exact. We were grateful for the relapse medications. Baby girl got back to the hotel in the Gothic Quarter and slept for the remainder of the trip. Thankfully, no one else got sick.

The plan for Callista was to pack up and head to Gibraltar in two days, make a pit stop for about twelve hours while they made sure they had enough fuel and provisions, and then depart for Antigua by way of the Canary Islands. That was not what happened.

About a week after we left Callista, Roland called Bill.

“Boss, I think we have a problem. There are storms and we can’t take our normal route to Gibraltar. But it’s okay; we’ll still make Antigua in plenty of time.”

Instead of sailing straight through the Balearics to the mouth of the Mediterranean, unseasonal storms were making it necessary to pick their way along the Spanish coast. The three-day trip to Gibraltar took more than a week.

Gibraltar is tiny, barely more than a British naval base. It’s widely known for having inexpensive fuel. There is nothing to do there, and no reason for a lengthy stop. Unless there are storms, that is.

Upon their arrival in Gibraltar, they found seas out in the Atlantic at 30-40 feet! The punishing United States snowstorms of the 2018 winter were fueling extraordinary seas and wind in the mid-Atlantic that year. The twelve hour stop in Gibraltar grew into a day, and then two…

Another phone call. “The weather looks like it isn’t cooperating. We can push it, and I think we can still make the schedule for Antigua, but…”

Bill and I talked for a few hours. Where else could we go? Should we give up and just say we would see Callista in June? That didn’t feel great. And what would we do for Spring Break? We consulted a map, and then had another suggestion.

Why not visit the Canary Islands?

The crew was delighted with the plan. It took all the pressure off of crossing the Atlantic to make our school schedule. We were delighted because it meant a completely unforeseen destination, a place we literally knew nothing about.

As it turned out, Callista and her crew hunkered down in Gibraltar for well over a week. Vanessa swears it was the most boring place she has ever been! There were a couple of windows in which they could have attempted a departure, but this change in plans gave the crew the room to wait for the best weather conditions.

Seven weeks later found us landing in Las Palmas, Gran Canaria, on Easter morning with our daughters and their friends in tow. The sight of Callista in the marina was so fun! We had a full week, exploring islands, riding camels, and sailing the most extraordinary coastlines. Knowing that we were headed to the Caribbean made this trip all the sweeter. The Canaries are full of history and wild, rugged landscapes that we simply don’t see in the Caribbean.

One special highlight was sailing the first part of Christopher Columbus’ exact route to the New World. Columbus had a house, now a museum, in Las Palmas, Gran Canaria. When he departed he left by the island of Tenerife, stopping at the tiny island of La Gomera to have a fond farewell with the governor’s wife. The day we departed Gran Canaria we set sail before dawn. All of us dressed in layers and carried blankets up to the flybridge to watch the sunrise. Tenerife rose up on our starboard as we said goodbye to Gran Canaria on the port side.

We anchored off Tenerife that night, having been turned out of the marina there for being too big! The next morning was a sail I’ll never forget.

After having lunch at Los Gigantes, giant seaside cliffs on Tenerife, we turned to make the ten-mile sail to La Gomera. Columbus chose this route because of a wind channel that forms there, scooping up the sails and pushing you through. Nothing prepares you for it. We were sailing along at 5-6 knots, when all of a sudden, the wind caught us. We accelerated quickly to 10 knots, the sea meeting us with large but following swells that only made the sailing better. We were far from land, to my inexperienced eyes. The deep blue Atlantic rose up to meet us and then fell away at regular intervals, and the wind drove us along. It was amazing.

As the sun was setting, we came into San Sebastian, the capital of the island of La Gomera. Without a doubt it was the most picturesque, welcoming marina I’ve ever seen. They had a space for us and Roland expertly parked our 62-foot boat in its 63-foot slip. The entire day had been magical.

It was a fitting end to our journey of getting Callista. While they weren’t across the Atlantic yet, the weather had eased into a springtime sweetness. We were able to enjoy La Gomera for a couple of days, and it was without a doubt our favorite of all the European islands. Even now, as I write this, I can feel the enormous pleasure of pulling into that marina at sunset, spying the quaintest little village, feeling like we really were on the edge of the world.

We said goodbye, with more plans to meet in Antigua in early June. Callista departed San Sebastian a couple of days after we did. With the benefit of a satellite connection, Roland could email us in intervals across the Atlantic. That journey took 15 days, mostly boring and punctuated by who did the cooking each day.

On April 27, we got a call that Callista had arrived successfully in English Harbour, Antigua. Finally she was in the Caribbean. What a treat she has been since then, too. Bill and I laugh a lot about how we were possibly not “supposed” to buy her, but we were just too hard-headed to walk away. What a journey.

Thanks for following this journey with me! I have had so much fun reliving it as I wrote it. Next week I’ll wrap up with how things have been in the last two years. If you have questions about any of our “boat life” I’m happy to answer them. Feel free to leave a comment.