Michelle Segrest - The Departure: Living Life Sideways PREQUEL: A True Story of Heart-Pounding Adventure and Heart-Wrenching Survival

Make no mistake... this is NOT bikini and martini sailing.

When enormous Baltic Sea waves are crashing on the bow of a 24-foot sailboat flying through heavy, swirling wind at a 20-degree tilt, a southern girl from Alabama might not even notice the bitter cold. But this one did. Forget the frozen toes and frozen fingers. I couldnt even feel my face or move my mouth to form words.

I wanted to help and tried to offer assistance. But a deep, booming, forceful voice echoed from the cockpit with my orders.

BLEIB IM BOOT!

At the time I knew absolutely nothing of sailing or the German language, but I could easily translate. My only job was to STAY IN THE BOAT!

I strapped my life vest to Tojas sea fence rail with a D-ring clamp and held on for dear life. As we maneuvered through the powerful wind, the 3-ton vessel was continuously lifted into the air and then pounded down upon the waves. At times, the only parts of my body that were touching the boat were my clenched fists.

It was intense, but I was not afraid. The skipper was an experienced sailor, and I trusted him completely. He skillfully handled the sails and the tiller, and I felt unbelievably calm in the middle of the chaos. I felt secure that this day would not be my last.

I did, indeed, live to see the smooth side of sailing. In fact, the next day was still a bit rocky, but I sat on the bow and rode the roller coaster of the sea for what I thought was about 30 minutes. I looked at my watch and realized I had been sitting in that exact spot for three hours. In losing complete awareness of time, I felt pure freedom. I was becoming one with the sea.

The next day was warm and calm, relaxing and sedentary, and I realized that each day at sea is a different, unexpected, and an unpredictable adventure. It was in those three days that I realized how intoxicating the sailing experience can be and how it can change in a heartbeat. The sea is a seductress with every personality, every mood, every emotion, and every danger you could possibly imagine.

I was hooked.

That was the beginning of my love affair with sailing. The battle with the weather conditions, the sea, and handling the sailboat can pale in comparison to the mental and physical challengesthe battle within yourself.

I often tell people that when you sail for the first time, you have one of two experiences. It either becomes a one-time, bucket-list thing that you simply check off your listor it becomes a part of your soul forever.

After that first sailing experience, I knew I wanted to be more than just a passenger on board or a weekend holiday adventurer. I wanted to learn how to become a true sailor. I wanted to participate, be an active crew member, and learn the true art of sailing. I dreamed of perhaps one day becoming the captain of my own ship.

Its been a journey that even more than eight years later continues to challenge me in ways I never thought possible. But Im not sure I realized in the beginning what I was getting myself into when I asked a German Navy veteran to teach me to sail.

And I definitely had no idea that I was being pulled into a dangerous relationship with a masterful narcissist who would change everything I once knew about myself and about the world around me.

I fell in love with Germany the moment I crossed her border. The romance and allure of France was no more than a faded, distant memory as Deutschland instantly became my second home. A few days after crossing her borders, I met my sailing teacherthe skipper. He was a charming, handsome, funny, German sailor who would win my heart and give me the greatest gift Ive ever receivedhe shared his passion for sailing with me.

He was a German engineer and everything that the title impliesprecision, perfection, and attention to detail. I was an excellent student in school, but I must admit that in my adulthood I was probably not the best student.

Impatience, too much confidence, and ignorance about a topic is not the best combination for learning. I love a challenge, but I suppose I underestimated that learning to sail would be a lifetime commitment and not just a one-course seminarespecially when learning to sail the German Navy way.

We started with simple knots. I practiced the tying and the looping. If it wasnt perfect, the skipper ripped it apart and left a tangled mess for me to try again.

I began to get comfortable helping to moor the boat. That became routine, and with the routine I developed confidenceperhaps a bit too much confidence. Once, we were mooring Toja in the Lauterbach marina on the Baltic island of Rgen. The wind was fierce, the sun setting, and the marina was full of sailboats.

We needed to maneuver our way into a very small slip between two huge yachts. I tried to loop my line on the post, but I missed it. An abrupt German command came from the cockpit. I didnt understand the exact English translation of the command, but I got the message.

Dont miss again.

The second try caught the post but ripped the line through my hands, shredding the flesh as blood spilled all over the deck. The skippers only reaction, Dont worry, we can clean the blood off of Toja . There was no concern for my injury. But in fairness, there was no time for concern. The boat was about to slam into the pier. The skipper leaped from the cockpit to the bow and in one quick motion, literally lifted me off my feet, and threw me back to the stern.

He saved Tojas bow. The casualties of my sliced flesh and crushed bones were insignificant.

While learning to sail the German Navy way, I also began to learn the German language the barroom brawl way. I learned phrases only appropriate for use during a gang fight in the Berlin ghetto or on the streets of Hamburgs red district.

I persevered with my mission to learn to sail and was eager to try more. I slowly began to graduate from simple swab and crew tasks, and soon asked if I could try hoisting the main sail.

In typical German fashion, learning that activity required education, then practice, then review, then exercising, then more practice. We worked on the skill while moored in the marina in Stralsund, Germany. On the stationary boat secured to the pier, I attempted the task about 10 times. It seemed simple enough.

Then I begged the skipper to let me give it a real try on open water. He checked the weather and warned me that due to the conditions I may not be ready. I was determined and insisted. He was determined to teach me by proving me wrong. After all, thats the German Navy wayevery man for himself.

We departed and hit the open water on a swirly, windy afternoon on the Baltic. We were directly in the wind, and the skipper gave me a nod. I loosened the halyard and began to pull the line. I realized quickly that hoisting the sail in the marina with no wind on a moored boat is significantly different than doing the exact same activity in gusty, heavy wind on open water with dozens of other sailboats and ships all around us.

I hated it when the skipper was right. I pulled with all my might, but the sail did not move.

"NOW! Do it NOW! orders barked from the cockpit.

Im trying! I screamed back at him.

Dont try. Do it! he screamed in German.

I was lying horizontally staring at the sail-less mast as I began to pull with my arms, my legs, and my back. I put every single pound of my entire body into the effort, using any leverage I could find as the wind battled to defeat my mission.