By then we were determined to enter the BOC Around Alone for 1994 which meant sailing soon in their preliminary race, The BOC Atlantic Alone. Unlike the O-Star, this single handed race would be from Falmouth, England to Charleston, South Carolina. This was the qualifier for the big BOC Challenge. I’d been considering not racing at all and simply making a solo circumnavigation, but Harry Mitchell had convinced me to qualify my boat by adding on 2 feet to her existing 38. Working with Gwen and our Gypsy lads, we did that, and also fit in two mandatory water tight compartments, paneled the interior and painted the hull and deck, which translated into sanding, grinding, patching and painting for many weeks.

“Man’s work” as the boys saw it, and they weren’t shy about expressing the Traveler’s chauvinistic ethic to Gwen. Every day we’d stop for lunch. They’d unpack the cold meats the nuns had sent, and in the beginning Paddy and Willy would tell Gwen to make the sandwiches and put the kettle on for tea. These were not jobs for men. Of course, Gwen was having none of that. She said, “If you’re not putting the kettle on, you can just watch me drink my tea. If you’re not making sandwiches, you can watch me eat mine.” Quite a revelation for the two boys, this first contact outside their community and it’s with a modern Irish woman, but this was an education for Gwen, as well.

Over the months, I happily watched as these opposites nudged closer and closer together, watched as they went from “You stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you” to tolerance and from there to respect, and finally to friendship. None of that overnight, though.

The boys were 17 and 19. When they disagreed about how the job should be done, they beat the hell out of each other. I’d hear wood go smashing as they struck each other with planks, yet once the argument was settled, they held no grudges. One minute they’d be in a vicious fight, and the next they’d be doing a jig together or singing an Irish song. Singing? They never knew more than the first couple of lines of any song, and these they would sing over and over and over which drove Gwen and me insane. Gwen, who knew the lyrics to almost every song, at first refused to tell them more until the four of us finally joined together as a family. Then she taught them all the words and even sang along.

Repairs finished, Gwen painted (with an artist’s oils and brushes) four Irish scenes in the saloon. Wherever I sailed, a bit of Ireland would be going along. We renamed the boat Protect our Sealife and prepared to launch. Jim Fahy, an Irish television journalist, sailor, and great supporter, interviewed Paddy and Willy and me, and in the resulting article pointed out that these two Traveler boys were no different than any other recruits for they were honest and dependable. Which they were. Left to clean up the shed on their own, they made it spotless. Every tool was accounted for. They were dedicated craftsmen who needed no supervision. In short, I’d happened upon the perfect support team and at the same time opened up a much needed line of communications. The dialogue we began way back then is still going on. Paddy and Willy have moved on, but the two communities remain on speaking terms.