June 2023 Sailor of the Month: Heidi Petrowicz

Heidi Petrowicz:
The ocean had always called to me. I was born into poverty to teenage parents in an armpit of a city called Woonsocket, Rhode Island. Its only redeeming quality was that is was not more than an hour or so drive from the sea. My parents hadn’t much when they started out, but they had work ethic in spades and their greatest gift to me was that. I was never afraid of a little bit of hard work. The highlight of my young life was when my mom would take me to the beach. Lakes were lovely, but not the same, the ocean CALLED to me. My soul was never so alive as when I was at sea level. When I ever got my own license, the seaside was where I would go whenever I had some free time and a few dollars to spend. I loved to watch the sailboats. I’m not sure I ever actually aspired actually being a sailor, so far out of the realm of possibility for me and my humble life, as I thought it was, but I loved to watch them and dream of the sailing life.

Fast forward to adulthood, and My career had taken me back to the ocean. I made my paycheck building beach houses for the wealthy. My office had a view to Kingston Bay, a short walk to Plymouth Harbor, and in the summer, the sailboats would cruise by, right in front of my desk.

On my fortieth birthday, I quietly but resolutely determined that by the time I was fifty, I would be a proficient sailor and captain of my own little vessel. I knew nothing of boats or sailing or how I would get her in the water or where I would keep her or who would teach me. I told myself none of that mattered because I was going to figure that out and make it happen, regardless.

I mentioned my goal to a partner at work when I discovered that he’d grown up on sailboats, the son of a professional Captain. Pete said he’d help me find a suitable boat and sort out the details. A week later, we went to Newburyport, MA to look at a 1971 Vivacity 20. The old merchant marine sold the boat to me with everything he had to go with it for a song and asked me to keep him in touch with her adventures. I have not let Wolcott down! I frequently send him pictures of my blossoming adventures with The Last Unicorn.

After three months of intense refitting work and lots of reading and watching of YouTube videos, and anything I could study from ASA online, we launched The Last Unicorn into Kingston Bay on July 7, 2019 and that was the day I had the first sail of my life.

I sailed every chance I got from that point forward and when I couldn’t sail because I didn’t have a coach, I sat on my boat at the mooring and read, did repairs or just napped on the deck and dreamed of the day when I’d master the Unicorn and wouldn’t need to rely on anyone else to babysit me for my adventures; when I’d be brave and capable!

I did some more reading, studied every ASA article that promised to make mention of any information that might help me; did more than a little bit of praying, made a few preparations and on the next suitable tide, I went solo. I straddled the bow for about ten minutes, giving myself a pep talk, cursing myself out a little bit, shed a few frustrated tears… Then grasped the pennant and threw it overboard and we were sailing, like it or not. Sink or swim, Girl. For REAL. Sail the boat or sell it and go home with your tail between your legs. I might not have been a sailor yet, but one thing I am NOT is a quitter. 

That was the day I became a sailor. But a week later was the first time I KNEW it. I soloed the Unicorn back out to Plymouth Harbor and decided I wasn’t going home tonight. I threw an anchor on the beach and set off to find myself a taco and a sangria. I slept there on Nelson Beach that night and sailed uneventfully home on the noon tide the next day. Because I CAN.

I stayed on the Unicorn that November night, snug as a bug in a rug, and woke up to a 50 degree sunrise and watched the fishing boats set off to work. I sat on the deck, wrapped in my blanket, with my back to the boom and reflected on the woman the last two years and this old boat had made of me, finally able to embrace her. I no longer saw myself as a misfit, inept. I had found a peace with myself that I had not had before the Unicorn. I’d faced down my fear, called out the things I perceived as my shortcomings. I’d found a budding confidence that didn’t mean I knew it all, but I knew I could figure it out, I knew I could overcome. I was not yet “there” but well on my way, and sailing is about living and loving the journey, not the destination.

Over the last couple of years, since I started sailing, instruction was very hard to come by. COVID had shut down all of the local sailing schools and in-person activities were not to be found anywhere. Being a dead novice without a lot of sailing connections in the local community, I’m not sure how I would have muddled through without the vast library of online instruction that was available to me with an ASA membership. That winter, I read and studied everything I possibly could, determined that I would splash in for my third season, ready to take on some big adventures. Over that winter, I gained a lot of knowledge and my husband started to take an interest in the Unicorn. He helped me tackle some much needed maintenance for the now 50 year old Unicorn and even made me the most beautiful teak and mahogany forward hatch, a worthy improvement for the little antique pocket yacht. My third season was a whole new ballgame for me and the Unicorn. We splashed in early June and my very first sail was a very confident solo sail and I spent our third summer doing lots of solo sailing and lots of trips out with friends. I finally developed the confidence to cruise into Plymouth Harbor and attempt all this docking training I’d gotten online. That was not nearly so hard as everyone made it out to be, or perhaps I just had a good education. Everything seemed easier, less stressful.

Except for the time I was solo, halfway across the bay and a squall moved in. I could see it bearing down behind me and it quickly became clear the Unicorn was not fast enough to outrun it. I had but a few minutes and THIS WAS HAPPENING. I made a quick call to my old friend Pirate Jim for some last words of advice. I dropped and secured all canvas. I pointed her into the wind and rigged a line from the tiller so I could keep her pointed, then I ducked underneath to stay safe from the massive hail. It was all over and the sun was back out in minutes. It was scary as hell, but then it was just one more experience under my belt that I’d navigated successfully. My third season was a victorious one for me with much sailing, many adventures and many friends. I joined the local Kingston Yacht Club and they disabused me of every notion I ever had about a Yacht Club; a more welcoming group of people I could not have imagined! Now I have a community on the bay, a boating family and people I can call with questions or emergencies.

My confidence continues to grow and I’ve finally been able to get scheduled to take my ASA 101 class IN PERSON, with other sailors on actual sailboats and will be doing it at the ASA Academy at Key Lime Sailing Club in Key Largo next month. I’m looking forward to finally having my certification because I have seen how many doors this opens with being able to rent boats at sailing clubs and on vacations.

I just turned 45. I’m a little ahead of schedule and thinking it might be time to set some new goals for fifty year old me!