COVID forced us into the inconvenience of quarantine. But something emerged from lockdown that was far more than we expected. That’s because when our toys, baubles, and distractions are taken away, we tend to return to the core and common humanity of personal connection.

All the boats on the World ARC spent 4 weeks at sea, sailing in from the Galapagos. Some came in low on food, others almost out of fuel, and still more limping in with partially disabled vessels. But for all, we returned to port in a world gripped by a global pandemic. Rules were in place that we never expected: no moving about without papers, stay within 1 kilometer, one person at a time, wear your mask, and no alcohol.

We understood the restrictions, but chafed none the less for the understanding. Confinement was not what we signed up for, nor what we were remotely prepared for. But here we were, on a dock in the Marina de Pape’ete with 10 other boats that found themselves in our predicament as well.

You can’t move. You can’t leave. You can’t even get a beer.

But being in this restrictive environment also moved our distractible ADHD-prone focus inward. All we were allowed was what lay in our immediate environment, so that’s all we got. We actually had to speak to each other, and learn from each other on the fly about what to do and how to manage.

So we relied on neighbors for spare parts, an extra eye on a failed generator (thank you Bella Vie!!), an egg or an onion if you needed one, or an ear when you came by to chat from 6 feet away. Because of all this, the confinement conditions designed specifically to separated us from everyone else, actually brought this group of sailors together.

Even the young people among us found each other, getting together for a daily 4pm old-fogie-free happy hour to talk, watch their (semi-legal) downloaded movies, and commiserate about their ancient parents.

Overheard from the adults: “This is like college, where you’re all on a dormitory floor, getting to know everyone, having parties to socialize, popping by to borrow this and that from time to time.”

Overheard from my daughter: “Yeah, this is great here. It’s like what I think it’ll be like living in an old folks home, playing card games and doing yoga.”

Hmm. Whatever.

Here’s the deal. There’s something about the structured inconvenience of it all that creates openings you never would have gotten before. Without the ability to get up and go where and how and when we wanted, we ended up more focused on each other.

We helped Island Wanderer celebrate their millionth wedding anniversary, went swimming in icy grottoes with Aurora after hearing amazing reviews from Amazing Grace and Celtic Star, played “liars dice” with “Influenza” and Remedy, shared sailing advice with Aurora and Cloud Shadow, spanked the competition on trivia night with Maximillian (as the combined super duo known as MaxAmari!), and found friends in Kari and Next Step that we never would have before.

Confinement also created structure. Morning exercise was led by the efforts of Kristen every other day, yoga by Kari and Annalisa, and Pilates by Grace. So as not to get too healthy and compromise our reputations as legit sailors, sundowners on some random portion of the dock each night was a must.

Self-made. Spontaneous. The structure and routines were created around us, by us, giving form and function to our day.

So now the binds are finally removed. And even though we can go, it’s a bitter pill and pyrrhic release. We all sense that the winds will blow our impromptu dock family far and wide. Influencer is gone already with their Aussie-Kiwi blend of fun loving nonchalance. Cloud Shadow is off soon, making the long passage westward to Australia.

And while we celebrate their freedom and ours, there’s also the recognition that the dandelion globe, once blown, will never return to its stem again. And there’s the irony. There’s that bitter taste of freedom that lives like a little death. The passing of a time when we shared our lives and time and love together. So if this is a little death, it’s important at its passing to celebrate the life we lived together.

Yes, we’ll keep up on WhatsApp, in our Facebook group, and occasionally meet up with certain boats over time. But this accumulation of goofballs and miscreants, so special to us all, may never reform together again in the same way.

As in any relationship that passes, the people may move on but what remains is the love. Because of this, I find myself left with gratitude for this confinement. It helped us create a kind of extended family that we have been blessed to embrace. And this will last far beyond the time when borders re-open, quarantines ease, our ships separate to the seas again.