Sail 7Cs

How things change, how they stay the same…..

2012-02-18T01:11:00.000-08:00

A change – again!

Irena and I are sad to say that, after 6 weeks of digging –emails, phone calls, lunch and coffee meetings -- even a try out work projectwith some prospective associate partners – we are going to pass on gettingestablished here in Cape Town. It’s a lot like Vancouver here, just asbeautiful and everybody wants to live here, but work is thin on the ground. (Whatwork there is in South Africa is in Johannesburg, and who wants to live there!)But the killer is the wage rate. If we persevered, say 6 months to a year, we aresure we would find traction here, but the market rate for our services is waybelow international standard, making it tough to put money aside. So next week,we will sail on.

We have had fun here. We have made a lot of friends and are verysad to be leaving them. Sunday, we are having a going away pot-luck party onboard, young and old, SA and expats alike. And we are selling BensonL.

Our destination is the Azores, 5200 nautical miles away. (TheAzores are about 1000 miles due West of the Straights of Gibraltar). This willbe our longest passage yet, if we go nonstop and not take a break at Saint Helena.Along the way, we will sail north about 2000 miles in the SE trades, 100 to 300miles in the doldrums crossing the equator, another 2000 miles up through theNE trades, and finally into the variable winds of the North Atlantic where wewill find the Azores. It’s a big run, a drift and a big beat to windward respectively,but in generally warm waters, and in moderate wind and waves. Our guess is wewill take less than 45 days, maximum. Our passage planner software says 36days, but I think we will not be so fortunate with the wind. We will not sailin any tropical storm zones, so no cyclones. At worst we might have to dodge anearly spring storm in the North Atlantic as we approach the Azores.

But that is a long way off! For now we are doing the usualpreparations – fuel, food, water and hull, rigging and sail checks. We replacedtwo lower shrouds that had died of old age (broken strands), but otherwise, weare in good shape. Irena has been cooking and freezing meals. The only thingmissing is our Ritchie compass. After 6 weeks, the warrantee repair agent stillhas yet to get the replacement seals……… so I guess we will reinstall the oldcompass leave without it.

Many hours I have spent on passage thinking about how tomake our Hydrovane self-steering perform as it might. We have had pretty goodservice from it since installing the stronger shaft, the third mid shaft bearing,and a thicker water rudder. However, light airs downwind, and even moderateairs on the quarter remain a challenge for Natasha, as we know her. In light apparentwinds like those we anticipate on this passage, there is not enough controlauthority in the wind vane to steer fully. So finally, here in Cape Town, Ihave had some time and materials to design and build a vane with a true airfoil. It’s a NACA foil 0018 with a 22% chord depth. It’s about 46 inches talland 18 inches deep, so it’s big, but light as I built it from model aircraftsupplies – Foam, balsa and .6mm a/c ply, on the original frame, covered with aheat shrink film. It’s not nearly resilient enough for the offshoreenvironment, but it should do as a test bed for the concept of using a truefoil section for the wind vane instead of the manufacturer’s flat panel vane.John at Hydrovane is as excited as I am by the experiment! I hope it doesn’tblow to smithereens the first time I put it up!

Once we set sail, we will be largely out of email/radiocontact for the firsts few weeks at least as the nearest shore based station isin the North Atlantic. (The Pretoria station seems off line). But as soon as wecan we will post to the blog on our progress. Stay tuned!

Reflections

The poor in Cape Town, don't live in Cape Town, they live beside it....

Last week, we spent a morning in conversation with aSouth African whose career is devoted to the cause of bringing the country outof apartheid and creating a society of greater equality and political stability.He is now consulting with NGOs of modernizing economies all over the worldseeking to address issues of poverty and creating responsive, effective, government.

Alas, he is not optimistic about South Africa’s future. Inthe simplest terms, he says South Africa, is prey to the same global economicforces that are a exacerbating the gulf between the rich and the poor. The firmlyentrenched ANC government, having co-opted many of the anti- apartheid revolutionaries,is now seen as corrupt and ineffectual. Whether for lack of will or ability, theincome inequality, perhaps the greatest in the world, is worsening. Officialunemployment is 40% and increasing. The consensus is that the majority blacksand coloured people of the country are worse off now than under apartheid. Manymobile, educated (mostly) white South Africans have left, or are leaving the country.

As we are doing.

And that’s the point about structural unemployment. As jobsfor thinly educated people move around the globe seeking different countries tominimize costs, those left behind have few options. Few are wealthy enough tofollow the jobs, if indeed governments at either end will permit them to do so.At home, without work, they languish into social dysfunction, with enormouscost in suffering and wasted humanity. The mobile – those with education andmoney like us - follow the wealth.

This is deeply unjust, and to my mind, unconscionable in amodern, self-aware society. To argue “a rising tide lifts all boats” is to concealthe truth. The advantaged and wealthy minority do way better with their well-heeledboats of a birth right education and starting wealth. They have fast passagesand fair landings in stout boats. The majority, especially the poor, have leakyboats, through no circumstances of their making, and they are sinking in the stormof globalization. No way can the flimsy craft of hand, stand up to thejuggernaut of global corporate iron. And where is government? As governments privilegesome with super powers of incorporation and banking charters, they must be re-distributing the wealth that otherwise follows the tilting table. Greed and thewill to power must not be allowed to runaway with this truth.

Farewell good South Africa, I hope someday to return to join the fight!

Welcome Benson!

2012-01-26T23:35:00.000-08:00

Join us in welcoming a new ‘crew’ to the family, “Benson”. Bensoncomes to us from Germany. Born of Mercedes Benz in 1994, he’s got quite a fewmiles on him (325,000 km!) but he shows signs of being up for doing a few more.On the outside, he’s got a few bangs and bondo on him, and on the inside he’s abit frayed and worn, but we are so pleased to have him as wheels, we think he isthe most beautiful thing in the world. I mean to have a car again, how good isthat?!

This weekend we are off in Benson to wine country for oursecond trip. The photos are from our first foray when Breanna, Mark and Eitannwere still with us. Gosh that was fun. Sunday we are visiting our new friends,Mashupa and Khabiso out there too. They are South Africans from Lesotho. We metMashupa, when he picked us up hitchhiking in Richards Bay in November and havestayed in touch since then.

If it sounds like it’s all play and games, it’s not. Irenaand I have spent the last two weeks digging for work. Just this week, I havethrown my lot in with a coaching firm in Cape Town, developing the corporateside of the business. Now I am working every day, partly from the boat andpartly at the office! Irena is busy networking with various prospective clientsand other consultants, and we expect she too will be finding something to dobesides make me lunch. (Just kidding Honey!) Soon Coaching Works Pte. Ltd. ofSingapore will have two contributing consultants.

We can see the end of our time in beautiful Simon’s Town iscoming. It’s an hour’s drive to my office in Cape Town and Irena will be busy probablysoon in the city too. I expect we will chooseto move the boat to Royal Cape Marina, right in the centre of the City. Notvery pretty, but very practical. My immediate goal is to make enough money toallow me to do some ‘no guilt’ soaring at the Cape Soaring Club, Irene’s goalis to make enough money to go see her grandchildren!

Reflections

It seems fitting we should be so close to a place called the Cape of Good Hope. This is the way I am feeling these days. Amidst the busy-ness that is my life, I feel a returningglimmer of calm satisfaction. I am meditating again more regularly, reconcilingmyself to dealing with the boat waving back and forth while I sit cross leggedearly mornings in our berth. I am also tapping the inevitable fears and insecurities(EFT, definitely my favourite tool for releasing emotional energy) that arisein the course of this transition. And, Irena and I are exercising prettyregularly, very gradually, working our way back into some resemblance offitness.

These are all modest efforts, but remarkably helpful,nevertheless, in their cumulative effect. At sea, and during the tumult oftransition from harbour to harbour over the last six months, I have failed tomaintain this regime, and lost touch with this other ocean of calm as a result.Today, I am reminded again of the deep value to the quality of mind, and hencequality of life, these activities engender. Today, my sense of calmsatisfaction is the immediate reward for my ablutions of self-care. Tomorrow, thelonger term reward will be the quality of life past experience has demonstratedI create out of this state of being. It is amazing and humbling to see how mucharises out of so little.

This is the ‘C’ for Capacity of which I speak in the 7Cs. Capacityis about the practices of care and strengthening of body, mind, emotion andspirit. The practices are so basic, so simple, yet so hard to discipline. Theyare so rewarding, yet so easily sloughed off. Join me in a newfound commitment tostay with the program, and compassion for ourselves when we do not!

Open Letter to Mr. Ritchie

2012-01-16T02:29:00.000-08:00

It is the cruiser’s lot to be in a constant struggle withthe elements to keep our gear working. Fair enough, it’s a tough environment. Butsadly, like everywhere else in the modern world, we see the gradualdeterioration in quality of virtually all marine products, more and more builtas cheaply as possible, hoping to snare the unwary with cheap, fall-apart stuff.Raymarine sold me a heavy duty, offshore drive for my self steering arm made ofplastic gears. West Marine recently shipped me two Ronstan snap shackles (thevolkswagon of marine hardware manufactures) in Harken (the BMW) bags at Harkenprices. And on it goes with line (rope) without UV protection, galvanizedshackles that rust within days, Stainless steel fittings that aren’t “stainless”because they are made of such low grade steel they rust happily, blocks that blowup… and now a compass that failed within months.

I am a little embarrassed by my invective in the open letter to Ritchie Compass below, but I want to vent. I don’t know if I’ll ever send this tothem directly, mostly because I doubt anybody at Ritchie would care one way oranother, or that it would make one small bit of difference. But, at least, sailors contemplating a new compass need to hear this. AndI’m mad as heck and not going to take it anymore!

Open Letter to Ritchie Compasses

Dear Mr. Ritchie,

Your Compass sucks.

Can you imagine my disappointment, after spending $800 on a brandnew Ritchie “GlobeMaster SP 5c, to find, just months after it came aboard, apool of oil on the teak cockpit sole and an air bubble the size of a tennisball in the liquid filled compass?

But the whole product had a cheap feel to it, from the moment I first saw it. When I unwrapped our mail order, to my vast disappointment I found the compass light is ‘engineered’ from two LED lights, mounted on an unprotected circuit board, just waiting to soaked by the next wave to come aboard. (Getting that replaced will mean a lot more than finding a light bulb!) And everything elseis made of plastic of doubtful dimension and the modest materials. Just days into our first passage, I was not impressed to see splotches of rust showing up all over the “stainless steel” mount. But the last straw was the bubble!

Now you and I are facedwith the hassle and expense of a warrantee repair. I lose time. You lose money.I mean really, what are you guys doing? You know this product is used in a marine environment of salt water spray and constant motion on oceanpassages of thousands of miles. You know we will expect it to last more than afew months, one boating season, or even, heaven forbid, a few years. Why thenare you using 304 stainless on the mount? Why would you design a compass lightaround an unprotected circuit board? Why would you build it so poorly that itleaks in the first three months?

Yup, your compass sucks. Shame on you!

I am telling my cruising friends about my experience with Ritchiecompasses, because as your website says, "navigation really does begin with the right compass", and itssure not a Ritchie!

Reflection

There is more at play here than consumer rage. There is amuch more serious issue. It is not just about “fucknowlogy”, fumbling high techstuff released into the market place, nor is it about businesses maximizingprofit by squeezing quality, or our mute acceptance of ever more falseadvertising claims, though all of these are issues too rankle and highlightcivilization’s failing social consciousness and values.

Rather, the more serious issue is the question of our verysurvival – we are wasting our planet’s resources. And I mean ‘wasting’ as in depleting,diminishing, exhausting, stripping, denuding, wrecking, etc.. because almost everything we produce is designed to fall apart quickly. And we are doing soexactly when we need so desperately to be doing the opposite. When we should bedoing our modern best to build stuff that lasts a long, long time (repairable) – things thatmake the most prudent use of the planet’s resources -- we are, instead, building C.R.A.P.(Carelessly Resource Assailing Products).

And so we all ask, "What can ‘I’ do?"

This is the important question. I hope you will join me in apersonal quest to stop buying CRAP. Join me in rewarding manufactures whoproduce quality repairable products and punish manufactures whobuild cheap fall apart stuff. Save the planet - DON'T BUY C.R.A.P.

2012-01-02T23:16:00.000-08:00

Hurray, after 40 sea days from Jakarta, we are safe in Cape Town! Well, actually we are in Simon's Town, one of Cape Town's suburbs. Our last passage down the coast from Nnysna to arrive the day before New Years Eve was perhaps the most pleasant of all our short passages around the cape. Sunshine and light and moderate following winds.
There is much to reflect upon, and it sounds silly, but it was important to us to sail the South Indian Ocean in bare feet. We wanted so much not to stretch out at least the illusion of warm water sailing even as we sailed all the way south to 35 South Latitude. Yes, there were nights in the cockpit in toques, foul weather gear, and safety harness, but never did we succumb to putting on our sea booties!
Now we are in transition as we seek now to discover where we can make a contribution here in South Africa. Our crew Eitan and Mark are leaving us one by one, and Breanna is set to fly home tomorrow. We are scouting out the most suitable place to moor Conversations as we plan to continue living aboard.
In the meantime, we are enjoying quaint Simon's Town and doing lots of hiking and sightseeing, including a trek to the Top of Table mountains, alas, in cloud.

Snug In Knysna for Christmas

2011-12-27T00:39:00.001-08:00

It may not have seemed like Christmas as a Canadian wouldknow it, but by golly, we had Christmas lights up so it must be Christmas. Nosnow, no Christmas tree, no eggnog even, but Irena, at long last, had Christmasboat lights. Yes, two strings of classy white lights ran up the backstay,over the top and down the forstay to decorate Conversations where she layalongside the town’s quayside village. She looked pretty nifty that night untill therain started. Tragically, the lights only lasted a couple of hours before theyall failed So much for outdoor lights! We took them back for a refund next day.The hunt continues for real outdoor lights…..

Since coming to Knysna, it’s been a whirlwind. The day ofour arrival, Irena and I left the boat in the capable hands of Eitan and Mark to drive 1000 km round trip to Cape Town to pickup Breanna at the airport. Now we have fiveaboard. Two days later, all of us piled in a rental car for a two day road trip up the coast to Addo ElephantPark, where we drove around the reserve dodging, you guessed it, great moundsof steaming elephant pooh. 486 elephants churn out a heck of a lot of it, whichthey seem to prefer to drop on the road. This however, only adds to the viewingexperience: Armies of dung beetles carve out great balls of the stuff, and raceit off into the undergrowth where they lay their eggs and bed down in comfort. And, oh yes, and we also sawlots of elephants too!

Next day we stopped at a research centre to pet a Cheeta andpair of lion cubs. Real cool, but tame. So off we went to the world’s tallest bridgebungey jump where Breanna, Mark and Eitan put down a $100 each, and jumped!Very courageous. I must say they made it look like a walk in the park. Irenaand I caught the action on closed circuit TV in the bar and bought the beersfor our returning heroes. Also fun.

Back in Knysna, we moved Conversations in from the hook and tied her up inthe only vacant place in town - smack dab in the middle of the town quay. We are sort of on display here, right underthe nose of the waterfront restaurants, shops and charter operators. Lots ofcurious vacationers stumble up to the dock with questions, people from all overworld. This too is fun. Yesterday, a gentleman of 87 came up told me of his 6year ordeal as a German prisoner-of-war in a Russian concentration camp. On alighter note, within 10 feet of the boat is the Gelato stand, much to Breanna’sdelight.

Christmas eve, we had a great Polish dinner of Borscht, Pierogi and Nalesnikiprepared up by Irena, with Mark and Breanna's learned assistance. Christmas day was, ofcourse, turkey day. Mark took over with Gertrude (what else would you name aturkey?) to see she was properly dressed for the occasion and stuffed into ourpint sized oven. Yesterday, boxing day, we had a “left over party” aboard s.v, Papillion with Jim and Julia and Mikeand Cathleen from s.v. Content.

A very nice weather window is shaping up tomorrow for ourdeparture for the Cape Town suburb of Simon’s Town. Thanks to Irena we have a longterm berth booked in the False Bay Yacht Club. It’s a 250 NM passage, the lastpassage on our voyage to Cape Town from Singapore and Indonesia. It’s hard to believehow fast the time has gone by: We left Singapore early June with Dennis andRita, and we left Jakarta, Indonesia in early August with Eitan. By New Year’s we willhave arrived and it will be over. We are glad to be here and glad to be moving into the next phase - working in South Africa!

Reflections:

At this time of year, many of us reflect on our good fortune, a time for review if you like. Here in Africa, where most have so little, I think of my own life and I wonder more generally, where does good fortune come from? Is it purely about the circumstances of our birth, does it show up one day in a lottery draw, or is it something we work for. Is it chance or design or both?

Suppose good fortune does live at the intersection of circumstanceand luck, design and choice. If that is so, then there is some chance to our fortunes about which we can do nothing. So be it. But where can we influence our good fortune beyond our good luck and bad? How do we 'get in the game' and do things to help along our good fortune?

Do the 7Cs apply here? I think so. Together they can be a framework for pro-activity.

There is another big question in our experience of people in Asia and now Africa - what is the link between good fortune and happiness? When I see how happy so many are who have so much less, I wonder, is happiness not much about good fortune, but more about something else, and if that is so, what?

I think a partial answer to happiness is opportunity to be pro-actively engaged in creating good fortune! To be self responsible (Captaincy), to have a Course, to have Companions, live a life of Curiosity, be building Courage and overall Capacity, and to be doing so in self Compassion is to be in the game, which itself contributes to both happiness and good fortune.

Enough! Irena and I both reflect on what enormous good fortune we have had to live the lifestyle we wish these last 7years since leaving Canada and look forward to whatever fortunes appear as we seek to find work in South Africa.

Stunning

2011-12-11T11:37:00.001-08:00

South Africa is stunning. Its landscapes are bold, the peoplefriendly.

We rented a car for a two day junket to Drakensberg Mountains.The first day we drove to Underberg and hiked a couple of hours up a meadow inthe foot hills. Next morning, after a hearty 0630 breakfast at a B&B, wehiked up Sani Pass from the South African border to Lesotho. This was a 16 kmround trip, climbing and descending nearly 3000 feet. Mark sprinted up in 90minutes, Eitan in 120, and Irena and I staggered into Africa’s highest pub atthe top after a 150 minute climb – it was a beast but we made it up. After thebest pub chicken curry and coldest beers in the world we walked back down tothe car and drove back to Durban before dark. Big enough two days for me!

After a couple of day’s recovery, a weather window crackedopen for the sail from Durban down the East African Coast to East London. Its only255 miles of coastline, but once we out of the comfort and safety of harbour, wewould be committed. In this part of the world, the sea never seems to rest: Itseither blowing in hell in one direction, or blowing like hell in another. Thepassage to East London happens between a 3 to 6 knot current down one side andan unbroken wall of coastline on the other. There is no place to duck in out ofthe storms that blow through every two or three days and wind against theAgulhas current conditions creates legendary monster seas.

As recommended, we left on the back of a passing system. Wehad about 36 hours before the next system was due to blow in from the SW and wehoped to get a head start. From 10 am until just before dark we beat into 25knots of SW wind. It was really unpleasant sailing – huge southerly waves were coming from aheadand a NE swell were bashing up from behind. It was, as I like to say, like sailingin a giant washing machine. After dark the wind went light and began to clock(change direction in a clockwise direction). With no time to hang around beforethe next system came in, we started the engine but after about an hour itchoked from fuel starvation. From 1130 to 0300 I changed all three fuel filtersand bleed everything living part of the fuel system I could think of. No joy. Iwas concerned we’d not make port before the next South Westerly. But by dawn thewind had come all the way around to NE and it started to blow. It soon hit 30knots, but it was at our backs and we were moving with the current. We weredoing 8 and 9 knots through the water and 11 and 12 knots over the bottom withgenoa only. Wow, now this is sailing!

The first monster wave surprised us. We broached to wind andit pounded down over the port side, filling the cockpit, tearing the dodger,and soaking Eiton, Irena and I, leaving us open mouthed and gasping. We weremore ready for the second wave when it hit, with a boom. It climbed over thetransom, and tried to get into the aft cabin. Not able to get down thecompanionway, it re-filled the cockpit instead. Below I spilled my tea andclung to the nav station, glad I wasn’t in the cockpit to get soaked again. Afew moments later, when the cockpit had drained, we hit an all-time speedrecord of 13 knots through the water surfing down another wave!

Under these conditions I was getting concerned we could getsafely into East London harbour once we got there. It’s a river entrance facinginto the NW seas. Without the engine to help bail out, we would have to sailinto the narrow slot amidst breaking seas and it would be very tough to backout in 30 knots of breeze if we got in trouble. I had visions of breaking seas overwhelming usand being tossed up on the beach or rocks beside the entrance. So near yet sofar. Now that is “instant failure”.

But by late afternoon, we had a break. The winds and seaseased back to about 15 knots and we arrived just after sunset and sailed intoharbour, surfing over the entrance bar. No sweat. Well lots of sweat, but by2000 hours we were safe alongside the dilapidated inner harbour shipping docks,tired but pleased to be safe in East London. Another passage done.

After a day’s clean up in East London, tomorrow we set offfor Port Elizabeth in another weather window. Another passage, anotheradventure.

Reflections.

I climbed into bed soon after tying up in East London, exhaustedbut curiously filled by the success of a passage safely completed. It is enoughfor anyone to deal with the motion, the physical hardship of no sleep and thetension of conning the boat down steep seas, but as skipper, I feel the addedburden of responsibility. The skipper is the one who has to make decisions (manufacturecertainty) in the face of uncertainty, the one to whom the crew looks forreassurance that it will be okay, the one who takes ultimate responsibility forhow it goes, the one who must make the right decisions or else.

It is no different for all the leaders of the world. Not thepoliticians who mascaraed as leaders, but those unsung heroes of the workplacewho put themselves on the line every day for the success of others or theorganisation; the silent heroes who put their own needs for reassurance secondto supporting others; the people who risk themselves so others may succeed; thepeople who care more for creating the vision of the greater good than they carefor their own comfort.

This is a great privilege in life: to be in a place where wecan lead. There is something in us that calls us to this challenge, thischallenge to bring not just ourselves, but those around us to a greater place,to champion others in crossing their own desert of adversity. And leadership isnot reserved for those in recognized roles of leadership. Every person,everyday has a chance to champion others, to put and support the success of thegreater ahead of the self. When we are response-able, we are able to make thischoice.

Captaincy is a gift that gives twice: first to the people nurturedby acts of captaincy, then to the person who practices captaincy.

Our first taste of South Africa

2011-11-26T04:14:00.001-08:00

We have been in South Africa for 2 weeks now, and really loving it! We have done a bit of exploring in between boat jobs and various yacht club BBQs and catching up with all the cruisers. Invariably we all compare notes on how our passage was and how much wind we saw and how many days it took (we took 9 days, very respectable). We were definitely one of the lucky ones as far as the passage from Reunion goes. We made it into Richards Bay harbour before some of the high winds started. On that same passage a few boats were damaged, some even towed into port and one very unfortunate boat hit a container 500 miles offshore and sank (the name of the boat was Wizard, a South African boat with 5 crew on board - all 5 were rescued by a passing freighter). So we count our blessings and thank our captain for getting us here safe and sound.

We are slowly getting ourselves into gear - getting cell phones and internet and arranging moorage in Cape Town. But it will still take us a couple of months to ease into work. Eitan is still with us en route to Cape Town, and we have a new crew (Mark) joining us next week in Durban and Cress's daughter Breanna coming for Christmas. And we still have about 900 miles to sail the rest of the way to Cape Town. The plan is to start that trip next week as a series of 1-3 day passages as we wait for good weather to get to each port. Next stop is Durban only 85 miles down the coast.

We have managed to rent a car for a day here and a day there to get out and see some of the game parks and African terrain. All wonderful - but this is where a few pictures are worth a thousand words!

Irena and Cress

Impala - we saw tons of these

African Elephant

Very elegant Giraffe

Zebras and Giraffe; up high.... down low

Hippo yawn

Lotsa hippa... or is that hippi???

Black Rhino

Hornbill

African Buffalo

Nyala

Can't recall his exact age.... but over 100

Zulu warrior dance

Tiny Zulu dancers

Happy Birthday to Anglin!!!

2011-11-12T03:30:00.001-08:00

This blog post is dedicated to my grandson Anglin John Macintosh who turned 5 today - November 12th! I can hardly beleive it - 5 years old already.

For Anglin, I have 5 pictures and 5 things that remind me of him.

1. Enthusiastic; quick and bright Anglin loves to do new things. A future sailor I am sure of it!

2. Thoughful; Anglin likes to have some time to himself each day to just chill.

3. Determined; to learn to do things independently. I think his first words were "I can do it myself!"

4. Curious - wants to know how everything works and he learned a lot about how all parts of the boat work - even the head!

5. Imaginative - this is a picture of Angllin drawing in our logbook. It is a very detailed map which shows a path all the way from Orillia, Ontario to Phuket, Thailand where he was visiting us on the boat.

Anglin - We miss you like crazy and want to wish you a very happy, happy birthday filled with lots of fun and presents and cake! Sending hugs and kisses xxoxoxoxoxoxoox.

Love from Gramm and Cress

Safe and sound in South Africa!

2011-11-12T03:16:00.001-08:00

Just a quick note to say that we arrived in South Africa at 10:30 this morning. Eitan was the first to shout 'Land ho' as we were approaching the coast. The last 48 hours were very fast sailing conditions and we are pretty exhausted after focusing all our efforts on staying exactly on course and keeping our speed up. We arrived in plenty of time - but we see the weather has already shifted - now overcast and cool and wind changing to an unfavourable direction.

So we made it! Took us 9 days and 5 hours to do the 1500 nautical miles. Not too shabby!! We are now patting ourselved on the back and trading stories with all the other cruisers who have arrived, and cheering on those who are still underway.

Irena and Cress (who is napping as we wait for customs - I don't think he slept more than a couple of hours last night and Eitan, who is sitting at the nearest bar/restaurant online!)

Q&A from the third grade.

2011-11-01T03:21:00.000-07:00

This blog post is dedicated to my sister Barb’s (aka Mrs. Stultz’s) third grade class in Virginia Beach, Virginia. They are learning about the globe, maps and oceans, and have been following our blog to see where in the world we are sailing and traveling. The children in the class have posted some questions for us, which we are responding to here.

Dear class – thanks for sending your questions to us. Right now we are on the island called Reunion. This is a French island so we are practicing speaking French with all the people here and are enjoying all of the French bakeries and coffee! This island has a volcano which we hiked and we saw all of the old lava that had come out of it and the giant crator that was formed after the volcano blew! We will be leaving here soon for our sailing passage to South Africa – but first, here are the answers to your questions.

1. Savannah wants to know why you sail.

We sail because it is a fun and out of the ordinary way to travel around the world and see different countries. It is also good environmentally since most of the time we use the wind and our sails to get wherever we are going instead of fuel. We love being in nature away from cities and towns where the air is clean and not polluted. And it is a cool way to meet people like other sailors and people who live in the places we visit.

2. Lajuane wonders what you DO when you travel.

Well, when we are sailing from one place to another, we must watch for storms and other ships. So we take turns being "on watch". When we are not on watch we catch up on our sleep and cook meals and stuff like that. When we are not sailing from place to place, we visit the neat places we are in, sometimes we drive around, go hiking, swimming, kite boarding or scuba diving and then we get the boat ready for sailing again. We also make friends with other sailors and people who live in the places we visit. All of the sailors we meet are also from different countries around the world. Right now the sailors around us are from Norway, Sweden, England, South Africa and the United States.

Can you guess which one of us this is?

3. Savanna asks where you sleep and what you eat.

We have about 8 beds that we call `berths`on the boat where we can sleep when we are sailing. We have a kitchen on the boat called a ‘galley’, and since we have a fridge and stove, we can cook just about anything we want! When it`s cold and wet we like to have things like stew or soup or chili. Also, sometimes we catch a fish and then we can have fresh fish for dinner! We also learn to cook some of the different foods we find in these countries like curry and laksa (coconut noodle soup with prawns).

4. Thylia is wondering where you get food.

Well luckily the boat has lots of good cupboards so when we are in port, we can buy groceries just like you at home in the grocery store. We like to go to the local market for fresh fruit, vegetables and meat where the local farmers bring their food to sell. The fruit we get here is awesome – mango, papaya, pineapple and lots of coconuts! Sometimes we can be sailing for up to 4 weeks without seeing land. When we are on a long sailing passage, we will run out of fruit and vegetables, so then we have to have things like canned peas and carrots (yuck!).

5. Braylen wants to know how long it takes to get across the Indian Ocean.

We sail about 150 nautical miles each day (it`s about the same speed as jogging). So to get all the way from Jakarta, Indonesia to Richards Bay in South Africa it will take us 30 days of sailing. But since we are stopping at many islands along the way, the whole trip will take us 4 months.

It takes about 1 month to get across the Indian Ocean, but we don’t do it all at once since it there are so many great places to visit along the way.

6. Lila asks if you ever get sea sick on the ship.

YES! We all get sea sick once in a while. It feels awful, but luckily it only happens at the beginning of a sailing passage and then we feel better after about 2 days. We do have some medicine that helps too, but mostly we just have to lie down and sleep until we feel better. But even though we are sea sick we still need to keep sailing – and sometimes that is very hard!

We just have to get our “sea legs”!

But if we take our sea sick medicine we feel better. And it only lasts a couple of days then we feel great again for the rest of the passage.

7. Mia wonders how long you have been traveling and whether you ever see whales.

We have been traveling and working away from Canada for 6 years so far! And yes we have seen a lot of whales. One time in a place called Tonga we got to swim with humpback whales - it was really great. But most of the time, we just see their spray and their tails when they jump in the air.

8. Kayden wants to know if you've seen a flock of whales (I think she means a pod).

Only once, and that was when we were in Tonga and went swimming with them. They were humpback whales. We saw a bull (the dad), a cow (the mum) and a calf (the baby).

9. Deshaun wonders what other animals you've seen in your travels.

My goodness, we have seen so many animals in the wild (not in the zoo)! Let`s see, we have seen elephants in Thailand, crocodiles, kangaroos and Koala bears in Australia, flying fish, eels, manta rays, tortoises, grey sharks and reef sharks in the Pacific Ocean and the South China Sea, orangutans in Borneo, monkeys in Asia and whales and dolphins in all of the oceans and all kinds of birds, petrels, tropic birds, albatross, eagles. Last night we even saw oxen in a parade!

10. He knows you're from Canada and wants to know if you lived in a teepee or a house.

We lived in a house in Vancouver, but we had a camping tent that looked kind of like a teepee!

11. Kayden asks how many continents you've visited.

Let`s see, on this sailing trip we have visited North America, Australia, Asia and we are about to get to Africa - so that makes 4 continents. That leaves South America, Europe and Antarctica!

12. Taylah wonders what you will do in Africa.

When we get to Africa we are going to find work to do so that we can stay for a year or so. While we are there we plan to go on a safari, and since we will be in Cape Town we will go hiking at Table Mountain. And of course we will buy a car and drive around to see what the country looks like. Cress wants to rent an airplane so he can see the country from the sky!

13. Emma is worried about whether you are afraid or scared that pirates might get you!

Well we are very careful to listen to the `pirate reports`and make sure that we do not go to the places where the pirates are. It is something that we think about, and read about to make sure we don`t put ourselves in danger. Although, we wouldn`t mind seeing Captain Jack Sparrow!!!

14. Andre wants to know if you like traveling.

Yes we do love travelling and meeting new people and seeing new places. There are so many beautiful places in our world, we feel lucky to be able to see so many cool things and get to know so many different people.

We get to try different cultures too, hearing the languuges, seeing how people dress and eating their food and sharing their festivals and celebrations and also learning how people in other countries believe different things than what we do – like different religions such as Buddism, different beliefs about family – like the eldest daughter in the family is not supposed to get married, since she is to stay home to look after her parents.

15. Sutton, Emijah and Kimiyah wonder if you ever miss your family back at home and if you like being without them.

Oh man, we really miss our family and our friends. We keep inviting them to come sailing with us, and some of them have come! Even your teacher Mrs. Stultz - (who is my big sister) - she came to visit us in Singapore! And so did our parents and 2 of our children and 2 of our grandchildren so far. We love having friends and family come to visit us, but we also go back to Canada once a year or so to visit them there. And sometimes, we like being alone too! It`s very peaceful then!!

Mrs. Stultz in Singapore!

16. Emijah asks how long you will be out to sea.

Well, that is a million dollar question! We may end up living on our boat for a long time. We can even bring the boat back to Vancouver which is also on the Pacific Ocean, and live on it there. That way we will be closer to all of our friends and family. So, I think we will be at sea for a very long time.

17. Thylia wants to know where you found the dolphins.

It was very early in the morning and we were in a place called Grand Baie, Mauritius - and we were having our coffee in the cockpit when we looked up, we could see them jumping and swimming a little distance away from us. So we got into our small dinghy and went out toward them and we went swimming with them. That was quite amazing! Most of the time, the dolphins find us instead of us finding them! They like playing in the bow waves.

18. Riley wonders how many more miles you have to go.

We have 1500 nautical miles to go to get to Richards Bay in South Africa. And another 1,000 miles to get down the coast and around the Cape of Good Hope to Cape Town. Then about 15,000 miles to get all the way back home to Vancouver!

Thanks for sending all of these questions! We really enjoyed answering them. Please do let us know if you have any more!

Irena and Cress

Captains of the World

2011-11-01T02:46:00.000-07:00

“There is something oddly familiar about this visage”, Ithought, “but for the life of me, I cannot think what it is”. From the cockpitof Conversations, I was watching CaptainM scooting across the anchorage in his dingy at a very good clip, bound for thetown pier. He was standing in his dinghy,looking squarely forward, his belly poking out, his shoulders back, his chinleading the way. He had the dinghy painter in his right hand, like a leash, andin his left hand, he held tightly to a tubular extension to his outboard motor, armbehind his back. He was nearly as tall as his dinghy was long. He could have been Nelson captaining a frigate.

Captain M is one of about 10 cruising skippers we have beensailing with across the Indian Ocean. Our small armada of cruising boats sail togetherin an informal way, usually meeting up in each port down the line as wecomplete the shorter passages between islands. In each port we spend happyevenings over beer and wine, full of wind, comparing notes on the last passage,giving advice on the next passage. And everyone is as free with their help andspare parts as they are with their opinions. It’s an endless conversation andmy crew protests over the monotony of such ‘boat talk’. But to me who loves allboats, it’s a brotherhood of ease. And of course, it is of inestimable value ingetting our own little craft home safely. Irena and I often jest, “It’s easierto get boat help and spare parts in the furthest reaches of the tropics than itis in downtown Vancouver!”

I have grown particularly fond of Captain M. Like many cruisingskippers, he has the gift of being thoroughly who he is, comfortably, playfully,doing the sailing around the world thing with an ease that belies thechallenges. He is full of stories of misadventure, opinions and points of viewthat have been honed to a fine point from years of telling. In his company, I knowhe will tell me exactly what he thinks no matter how contrary it might be tothe ‘right’ thing to say in the moment. And I think he has earned the right, nomatter what others might think, from a lifetime of bold experience, beginningwith his tour in Viet Nam as a helicopter gunship pilot.

“Never look a single hander in the eye” (a single hander isa person sailing his own boat around the world on his or her own) he was sayingloudly the other day with a twinkle in his eye, “you might never get away!” Hilarious,I thought, when he so carries on himself, but unlike him, I lacked the courageto kid him of such in the moment. So I like to be in the presence of hisconfidence and I like to bump up against his strength, though not always to myprofit. When I complained the other day of having to dance around our oversizedwheel in the cockpit, Captain M proclaimed “I bet my wheel is bigger than yourwheel!” I rose to the challenge. It was a foolish bet. Disturbed unaccountably frommy slumbers the very next morning, I poked my head out of the companionway tosee him striding away down the quay. Later he claimed, and I had to submit, thathe didn’t even need his tape measure to make his win. “What were you thinking!”he chided. It hurt, especially as I don’t ever pay to drink Johnny Walker Blackfor myself. And neither does he, he says, the rascal. And, he said with a grandsmile as he received my package, “But my wife does!” And so it goes.

Reflections

Captain M has the gift of proclaiming his place in theworld, in his own way, without apology. I appreciate him for it. Perhaps in myassociation with him, his boldness will rub off on me. And I believe, there issomething to be learned from each of the cruising skippers who make up thiscommunity. They are all, in their own way, people who more than average occupythe space in life they were meant to occupy. They stand apart in their fullness.I am sure every skipper has their moments of doubt and shame, but in a valuableway they have clamoured over a lifetime of experience to stand in a high levelof self-assurance. This seems to me to be the essence of ‘Captaincy’ - to proclaimtheir right to be and to live as they are meant to, to manifest in theirfullness, amidst their internal parade of doubt and uncertainty. ‘Captaincy’ isto be in the place we were born to occupy, even though the world may seek relentlesslyfor us to be elsewhere. In a way, it is their gift of courage and learning tothe world – to be who they are – for in that authentic expression, they are forothers a champion of their becoming. It’s a charge to be amongst such people.

Reunion - hello and goodbye

2011-11-01T01:52:00.000-07:00

Wow, we have been out of touch! Or is that touché? No of course not, but it gives you a sense of the depth of our problem in Reunion - Its very French!

We have had a great time here the last 10 days exploring the island of Reunion, hiking to the top of an active volcano, sightseeing by car around the island, and enjoying the Dipavali holiday fireworks and bar parties. We have been docked in Saint Pierre, surrounded by a great reef break where the surfers hang daily, a fantastic beach for swimming, snorkelling and downtown on our other side.

But despite the paradise of our good fortune, all around the docks in Saint Pierre this morning are signs of boats being readied for departure. Next door Eivand on Empire is test running his engine, sawing and drilling away at some mysterious parts in the cockpit. Down the dock, other skippers and crew are on deck, pulling on lines, looking aloft, testing and checking sails and rigging. Our boat is scrubbed, provisioned, watered and tidied - readied to go. Everyone else seems restless to leave too, a favourable weather window calling, but held up by the French bureaucracy – a four day closing of all government offices means none of us get our exit visas. All of us – and I bet there are 8 of us - remained tied to the dock inside the breakwater, while fair winds beckon outside. “Well, cry me a river!” I hear you say.

This passage to South Africa from Reunion is the big one everyone has been anticipating the whole way across the South Indian Ocean. It’s a 1500 mile passage, as I have said in other blogs, that will take us south around the southern tip of Madagascar, across the Augulas Current to Richards Bay. Some skippers are paying handsomely for the advice of professional ‘route planners’ - meteorologists - for personalized weather forecasts. The rest of us are listening keenly to such prognostications received second hand, while we debate our amateur weather forecasting efforts from internet data such as passageweather.org. Go? Stay? In the end, in the face of indifferent forecasts, we will just leave, for all of us are too restless to wait for perfect conditions. And, the passage is longer than can be forecast. By the time we get to Madagascar, the weather will be what it will be. We might, or might not, get beaten up a little, but all of us have boats and experience sufficient to the task.

Preparing for sea is a welcome focus for me, and I think for other skippers and crew. After the pleasant days, filled with low key repairs and preparations interspersed with sightseeing and hiking, we all welcome a return to doing what we love to do – sailing.

Pure Joy! Irena

2011-10-18T05:42:00.000-07:00

As we sit here in Black River Bay, one of the most beautiful anchorages in the world, each morning Cress and I rise at about 6am to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee in the cockpit together. It’s a time for us to check in with each other and talk about our plans, both short and long term and just generally spend a few minutes in gratitude for the life we are living. I suppose since Canadian Thanksgiving has just passed I have been thinking of everything I am thankful for and one of those things is the wonderful lifestyle we have created.

Yesterday morning as we watched a few fishing boats head out of the anchorage I watched them go by and waved to the excited tourists as they anticipate a fun filled day. As my eyes followed them out of the bay, I noticed some splashing activity out near the reef. With binoculars in hand I saw that they were dolphins – a pod of dolphins in fact, likely 25-30 of them! One or two small boats were following them, keeping their distance and allowing them to jump around to their heart’s content. I called Cress to have a look, and he immediately said – “Let’s get the dinghy and head out there – get your swimsuit on - quick!” At first, I objected… No, it’s too cold, they will be gone by the time we get there, too many other people around….. But Cress was not taking no for an answer – and finally my heart got the better of me and we were in the boat in a flash. We motored gently toward them and watched them swim and jump around for a few minutes.

At Cress’s urging, I was on the bow, with my feet hanging over the top ready to jump in if the dolphins allowed. One tourist from another boat jumped in, and I followed with mask, snorkel and fins.

Of course we could not swim to keep up with them, but within a few minutes, the dolphins came over to us. They were swimming under me, around me, beside me – so graceful I could barely breathe. I was talking to them through my snorkel, and just floated around keeping quite still as they literally swam circles around me! It was magical…. They simply exude grace and well-being – pure joy. I felt like they were hosting me in their kingdom. They were patient, curious and friendly, and it was a wonderful experience to be among them.

How fortunate I am – just one more thing to be thankful for! One of the things I especially value about the life we are living is that we are able to share it with so many other people. Since we set out from Vancouver in 2005 we have had about 50 people on board with us in various parts of the world! Some for a few days, some for a few months, some with sailing experience, some land lubbers, some close friends and family and some complete strangers (now friends!). And just as we enjoyed having all of them, I am quite certain that all of them had a unique and memorable experience.

And we are not done yet! How fun is that! Cress and I think of it as our gift, something we can give back and share with our community. So if you are thinking about it – stop thinking and start talking. If not now – when?

With heart and gratitude,
Irena

Black River Anchorage, Mauritius

2011-10-16T06:54:00.000-07:00

Another day ending at anchor in Mauritius, Black River Bay. Weather changing. Tomorrow rain.

Eitan? Well not quite yet, though he has aspirations …..

2011-10-16T00:23:00.001-07:00

Remember how much fun it was to fly a kite as a kid? The thrill of running the kite to a great height overhead? The fun of flying the kite up and down and around the sky? The tug of the wind in your hands? Now remember water skiing, maybe wake boarding. The rush of running on water, leaping over waves, crashing and getting picked up by the boat rope and doing it again and again? Welcome to kite boarding – it’s about kite, board and man/woman hooked together in a riotous assembly of wind, water, power and flight.

Yesterday, Irena, Eitan and I left Conversations at anchor in Black River anchorage and made our way by bus and thumb to the kite boarding beach at Le Morne, on the southern tip of Mauritius. It was Contest Day! We stood on the main beach, open mouthed at the site of a hundred wind surfers and kite boarders zooming, leaping, crashing (well, not into one another, amazingly enough). The tradewinds howled around the headland at 25 knots, kicking up a small surf inside the reef, and out at the reef, half a mile from shore, we could see great curlers crashing on the coral, and specs of kite boarders and windsurfers dodging death. Colourful and impressive we thought. Then, “enough of this”, we said, “let’s head for our lessons”!

We left the main beach and headed for the equivalent of the 'kiddy pool around the corner. We checked in with John, our Mauritian instructor, got trussed up in wetsuit, harness, helmet, kite, board and radio and the three of us waded out into waste deep water. Guess what? It’s even harder than it looks.

Yesterday was our first lesson in Mauritius, but third lesson overall. To this point, Eitan and I have had about 5 hours of instruction and practice. We have learned how to rig the kite, launch it and sort of control it. We can body drag downind, pulled by the kite (very fun) and even body drag our way up wind with kite power to recover a lost board. And, we can fly the kite with one hand, put the board on our feet with the other, and launch! Well sort of. My launches are still a dance of stand up and fall down. Eitan, is progressing more quickly (dammed youth!) standing up for a few seconds then falling down.

But by gawd, we will both be kite boarders before we die trying.

Reflections

I find kite boarding intoxicating, but as an initiate, intimidating. There is huge power in the wind, which is both its attraction and threat. And the water too, is not land, as much as I love it. Hooked to the kite, I feel committed (which is hard for me!) and I feel a little daunted.

But I want it. I really, really want it. I want to be able to zip along the surface and leap 50 feet in air as I see kite boarders doing all around me But first I must climb the wall, the wall we all encounter when we set out to do something we do not now know how to do - Learning. Learning is a bitch. Learning is confounding. It’s hard work. It’s humiliating. It’s fraught with failure, festooned with fun, filled with firsts, finally finished, and then begins again. It is a cycle.

As children we do learning as play. As adults we make it work. Why? I think as children and youths we are essentially fearless, invulnerable in ourlack of experience and less developed capability for self-consciousness. As adults, we learn our limits. With declining strength, we hesitate. Over the years, we experience the world’s push back, we get hurt, and we become more cautious. We develop a history; we tell ourselves a story about our limits. No doubt about it, as we age, we are less inclined to learn because we are more afraid, increasingly of things with a physical learning component.

My father once said to me “you have to be tough to be old”. I agree. I would say we have to be courageous to age gracefully, happily, to keep learning despite our predilection to the contrary. If learning is the essence of life, then he is right, we do have to be tough to get old, because it is harder to learn as we age. I am 56 and I cannot keep up with young Eitan’s learning on the kite board. He is learning faster than I am and it pisses me off. So I have a choice to make. I can be discouraged, or I can be determined. Kite boarding is a first hand reminder for me: the essence of courage is reaching for what I want despite my fear of failure, my fear in this case I will never get up, and stay up, on the board. It’s about COURAGE.

What could be more fun than that!?

Black River

2011-10-12T23:48:00.000-07:00

In our usual way as 50-somethings-I-don’t-sleep-like-I-used-tos, Irena and I woke at dawn yesterday and had coffee in the cockpit. As we waited for the java to work its magic, we talked over our greater plans. By 7am we were quite awake. “Heck, why now just pull the anchor, and set sail this instant!” Moments later, Eitan was roused in the v-berth by the sound of anchor chain in the hawser, just feet from his head. When the anchor cleared the bottom,

Irena swung the bow off the 20 knot breeze blowing through the anchorage. We raced downwind and out to sea between the two reefs defining the Baie’s outer reaches.

Safe in deep water, we sailed south under genoa alone. To port and to windward the trades swept down the island mountains, filled with the fragrance of forest and sugar cane. It made us hungry for porridge and brown sugar. In the sky, the morning’s brilliant young sun shone traded places with mountain top rain showers, pouring their last drops on us when they could reach us just a ¼ mile from shore. On the land, browns traded places with greens, mountains with coastal plains. On the water, the trade winds fanned, pumping 25 to 35 knots.

As we sped past the coastal hamlets of Flic ‘n Flac, Tamerin and Black River, I watched the shore side houses, thinking, “How odd, here we are at sea looking back at you, as you are on land looking out at us” At sea, on Conversations, we marveled at the landscape to port. On land, in their homes, people I imaged people looked out to sea, marvelling at its beauty and immensity. It is as if we each strain at our own edge, it is as if we both long for something that is not ours, for what is just beyond our reach. It seemed to me in the moment to echo the human condition.

By noon we had sailed 25 NM down the western lee coast of Mauritius, from Grand Baie in the north to Riviera Noir Baie in the south and re-anchored. We had entered the harbour in another rain shower and set the hook in 3 meters of water. All is well.

Reflection

The perspective we enjoy when standing on land looking out to sea, (or viewing the land from sea) reminds me of the perspective time gives us on our lives. With time, we see from a distance, what we could not see up close. Things in our lives make sense from this distance, when all was confusion at the time. But this is all in the context of looking backwards. What if we look forward into our lives when we stand on the shore looking to sea: What can we see then about our future?

Roz Savage, of whom I wrote in my last blog, spoke of a seminal experience in her life, an experience responsible in fact for her departure from her former life as financial consultant, to her life as an ocean rower. (www.rozsavage.com) Roz told us of how she sat down one day and wrote two obituaries. One obituary reflected her life as she wanted it to be; the other obituary reflected her life as she was then living it. The two diverged significantly. It took some time to realize, but she credits this exercise with being the inspiration for her choice to create her new life. Incidentally, now after having rowed across three oceans – The Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian Ocean – she says she is finished with rowing. What is next for her she does not know, but, I would bet whatever it is, she won’t have to re-write her life dream obituary – only the details of the ‘how’ will change.

Roz’s dream life obituary was her standing on land looking out to sea. She was standing in ‘grand perspective’, viewing her life in the future, from afar, asking and answering: What do I want my life to achieve? It is significant that she was looking ahead in her life, and not behind. We may become overly concerned with understanding our past, with forgiving ourselves for it (guilt) and with allowing ‘what we did limit what we can do’. This is reinforced by our cultural common sense. Uncommon sense says, on the other hand, it doesn’t matter what has been, the future is ours to choose.

There is another piece of Roz’s story that relates to Sail7Cs. Roz says, once she decided to live a life in accord with her revised obituary, “rowing found her”. She had no previous knowledge or interest in ocean rowing. Roz’s is a good example of living the Sail7Cs’ ideas of “COURSE”. She decided at a deep level what she wanted her life to achieve, (wrote her outcome - obituary/vision) even before she knew how it would be achieved and then let life deliver the way forward (rowing “found me”). And as for what is now next, she has no idea what, but she has confidence it will make itself known to her in due COURSE (if you will pardon the pun!)

There is another great question begged by Roz’s story: How is it possible to make that deep “decision” to go for it, even before we know how to achieve it? It’s not enough to create the vision, at some deep level we must also decide to commit to it then step back and let life present the opportunity. How do we do this super human thing?

Lose Yourself in Mauritius

2011-10-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

Timeless days have stretched into weeks on the Island of Mauritius. After 10 days in port, we left Port Louis and it's horse races behind (and a little of our cash) last week and, with 11 people from other cruising sailboats on board, made a party of sailing up the island to Grand Baie.

We have been here at anchor a week now working on our latest boat project – cockpit curtains! With water temperature down to 21 C, it’s a lot cooler on passage and this is only going to get more so as we head next south to the Cape of Good Hope. Its seems our thinned blood of the tropics no longer has any taste for cold salt spray in the press of 25 knots of breeze. It seems we favour the comfort of a sheltered cockpit, tucked in out of the main force of the wind, sheltered from the dreaded splashes that find their way onboard and into the cockpit. To show for 6 hard days of sewing, we have 6 new curtains made from Sunbrela (acrylic cloth), 1mm window plastic and heavy zippers. Running aft from the dodger to the helm, each panel is zippered to the bimini overhead and to each other and then hangs down to the cockpit coaming where they are fastened securely, three curtain panels to a side. We broke the last of our sewing machine needles doubling stitching the last of the seams, so that was the end of that. Good enough for now.

As a distraction from our labours, we have had the pleasure of meeting Roz Savage, woman ocean rower extraordinaire. This week she ended a 154 day row (she put to sea last May) across the Indian Ocean from Australia. She ended her voyage at the Grand Baie Yacht Club, not 300 meters away from where we are anchored in Conversations. We joined the crowd on the dock to greet her, and later had lunch with her. Now that’s an accomplishment without cockpit curtains! Check out her website www.rozsavage.com for more about true grit.

Reflections

[This blog marks a departure from it has been. I have been much inspired by my conversations here in Mauritius, with Michael and Dominique and Roz Savage, in particular. “Reflections”, is Michael’s inspiration, a reminder to share the inner voyage is Roz’s. Thanks!]

At our almost daily evening dinner gatherings of sailors and new friends, we indulge in perhaps too much wine and too much beer, but never too much conversation. The night before they headed back out to sea, bound for South Africa, we had a farewell dinner with a sailing couple Michael and Dominique, crew aboard Pachamama (www.toptotop.org). Sailors are naturally a curious lot, bent on living out their lives in their own way. Added to this, was a time with Roz, talking about her row across the South Indian Ocean. It was not surprising we got on to talking over dinner about following ones dreams. We spoke of the confusion we suffer over exactly what do we dream of doing and how do we differentiate what we are meant to do, from what we are conditioned to want do. We agreed, that from the moment of our birth onward, we come under a lot of pressure to value this and that, to act in this way and that, and to see the world in terms of good and bad, right and wrong. As a result, we fix ourselves reflexively in a particular place in the world according to our conditioning. After all, if we did not indoctrinate each tribe member, how else could mankind create societies and cultures? But what cost does this indoctrination have to the individual’s happiness? That’s you and me we are talking about here! Added to this, the bumps and bruises we accumulate over the natural course of our lives bend us a bit (or a lot) out of shape. Getting down to sorting between what we are born to be doing with our lives and what we have been trained to do, or “should” be doing, is tricky work.

I need to digress for a moment to address a core assumption; namely, that each of us is born to a unique mission in life, a unique thing we ought to be doing with our lives. (Why this is so, and ‘who’ if anyone or anything chooses such a mission for us is, is another question). When we are engaged in that mission whatever it is for each of us, our experience of life is inherently satisfying AND usually difficult. But uncomfortable or not, when we are engaged in our mission, we experience our lives as being full of purpose and meaning. The corollary is also true; to the extent we fail to engage our life mission, we suffer for want of purpose and meaning. But regardless, our lives are difficult. The way I see it, if life is going to be tough either way; it might as well be spent in purposeful engagement. (I think a lot of us fail to seek our mission by getting lost in our natural desire for comfort and security, but that too, is a question for another day.)

Let’s return to the question of “How do we sort out what we are meant to be doing from what we have been conditioned to be doing.” Or in terms of Sail7Cs, how do we set COURSE for what we are meant to do?

In our dinner conversation we came next to the bold declaration: “we need to sort between our neuroses and our passions”. For we are indeed creatures of habit and patterning and most of us suffer our own neuroses to which we are, ironically, passionately attached! (Def: Neuroses are a class of functional mental disorders involving distress whereby behaviour is within socially acceptable norms.) We are drawn to the familiar in us, even it is uncomfortable, distressful, or even neurotic. And we are mostly unaware of this process in ourselves and its content. Most of us, from all our training, have a pretty good idea of who we should be, but not many of us have a very good idea of who we really are.

So, to the short strokes: Awareness is the first landfall on the voyage to choice and change. COURSE calls on us to become conscious of our patterning by doing deep personal discovery work to learn who we really are so that we can separate the instilled “shoulds” from the deeply held passionate wants. Tragically, we fear this discovery process, because at some level, ironically, we fear we will discover what we already intuit - that who we really are is not who we were told who we should be! Which of course what we are trying to discover. And, our social system doesn’t do much to encourage this process of self-discovery either, preferring to focus on telling us who we should be. Our society on the whole mocks “personal development” as soft and fuzzy, of being somehow irrelevant, which I suppose it is, for it’s purposes. But whose purpose do we want to prevail in our lives?

My advice: Do personal development work, the deeper the better, and do it life lone. Do workshops, retreats, get coaching, meet cool people, etc. and talk about stuff. It’s actually a lot of fun once we get past our initial fear, and it contributes to becoming whole, happy and engaged in your life mission. It’s a core part of COURSE.

On another day, I want to explore the other side of the equation: How do we learn more of what we are “authentically passionate” about. Most of us have never had permission to go exploring our passions. How do we get off the dock and put to sea in discovery of what we are meant to do?

In the meantime, let me leave John Masefield’s words from his poem SEA FEVER set the tone for this discovery - Cresswell

SEA FEVER

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Farewell Rodriguez

2011-09-18T19:41:00.000-07:00

Its 6:30 am. The wind is awake, rumbling in the rigging, calling as I struggle below with the internet, trying to coax some weather over the local phone network. At last. Winds for the next three days 10 to 15 knots from the SE. Perfect for the 330 mile sail to Mauritius. Eitan and I will put back out amongst the waves this morning after we go ashore and stoke up with fresh bread and a few more vegetables. Irena, now in Singapore will meet us in Mauritius on Saturday.

The big sail beyond Mauritius to South Africa is still weeks away, but already, I am watching the weather and learning the tricks to tackle this difficult passage. To reach South Africa we must leave behind the brisk but consistent SE trade winds of the Southern Indian Ocean and venture south of Madagascar into the cyclonic storms spawned by the great Southern Ocean. Low pressure systems are spun north east every three to four days from south of the Cape of Good Hope, with SW winds typically of 30 knots or so. These winds meet the south west flowing Agulhas Current creating very big seas. www.passageweather is an excellent place to watch this weather phenomena.

But that's all later. For this week, we will pull up our sails, set the fishing lines and enjoy a great sail to Mauritius.

Cresswell

Rodriguez - A place away from time…..

2011-09-12T03:29:00.002-07:00

What would you imagine about a small, sub-tropical island, with less than 40,000 people, tucked deep in the South Indian Ocean, a 1000 miles from anywhere? About a place of predominately African people, living a lifestyle heavily influenced by the French? A place where life revolves around the weekly supply vessel and the Saturday morning, oh so early, market in the small main village, where nearly everyone on the island is there, either selling or buying?

It’s clean! It’s friendly! It’s gorgeous!

Clean air, clean water, clean land. The place seems untouched by human hands, except to

farm small holdings, to build small dwellings, and to pass the time in happy, timeless companionship of family and neighbours.

Rodriquez is serene, with peaceful people reclining in a peaceful outlook, living in a sumptuous blend of natural earth tone vistas, from the arid leeward deserts to lush, fruitful windward farmscapes. A land framed in every direction by broad turquois reef waters reaching out to the white reef breakers, still audible from shore sometimes 5 km away, a deep blue, white-cap-crested sea beyond.

Here, somehow most places can see most other places, feel most places, be most places. It’s as if the island is a single body, with everything and everyone sharing a common heartbeat.

Looking down from the main road, a twisty, narrow paved two lanes, we run along atop the high ridge that spans the length of Rodriguez astride a couple of small motorcycles, sucking in our breath in the cool higher air at vista after vista out to sea. The island is only about 10 k on its longest axis, maybe 3 km at its widest. Eitan says “I think my first motorcycle ride will be the most beautiful ride I will ever take”. I think this is the prettiest, most peaceful, happy place I have ever been.

Twice we have rented motorcycles and toured around the island. Once for sightseeing, once to take our first kiteboarding lesson.

We have been on Rodriquez about 10 days and expect to be here about 10 days more before we set sail for the bigger island of Mauritius.

I can’t imagine we'll ever find a place prettier than this.

Last day on passage - 2000 nm Cocos keeling to Rodriguez

2011-08-31T20:36:00.000-07:00

0800 September 1
Still lumping along in 25 knots. Down to triple reefed main, no headsail. Ran all night, till dawn when the wind went forward, so down came the pole and on came the cockpit spray. Otherwise we are very comfortable. Below,its rough, with the occassional deep roll as we slide sideways down a bigger wave, but that aside its warm and cozy, the sound of pots, plates and cans rattling in the cupboards, marking off the miles as we toss about in our berths.

As of 0800 hours, the beginning of day 12, we are 117 NM to go. We are very likely to make land fall sometime in the middle of the night tonight. The harbour is on the lea side of the island, and according to the charts, well marked. If the soundings are good, the entrance is lite and the seas are smooth, we will enter the harbour in the dark. Otherwise, we'll heave-to till dawn.

Impressions of the South Indian Ocean in the late winter early spring? Rough, but consistent strong trade winds make for fast passages. A bit too wet, but we fared better than one of the other boats on passage who took a whole wave into the cockpit and down the open companionway! He was safe but still bailing hours later. (And this skipper managed his boat and family of wife and two babies under the age of 3.)

The waters are so much cooler than the equatorial region, cooling the air at sea down to woolies, hats and rain gear on watch. Its a bit rude after Singapore and Indonesia, but confirming that we have indeed, finally, left Asia for Africa.

Tomorrow we will dine African on Rodriguez and enjoy other no guilt pleasures of hot showers, quiet beds and a full nights sleep!

After landfall, its often difficult to pick up this email address by ham radio. Contact us on our regular emails for the next three weeks until we set sail again for Mauritius, only 336 NM away.

To all of you out there following our blog, thanks for you attention and interest. Look for pictures of the passage after tomorrow.
Cresswell

All day every day we sail before the timeless SE Wind...

2011-08-30T07:14:00.000-07:00

As I watched the sun rise over the transom during the dawn watch,I realized I have not blogged about what it is like at sea, day after day (waiting on email aside!) on passage in a small boat. Its a pity because there is so much magic in the wilderness of the this place. Six years ago I wrote this on the 30 day passage from California to French Polynesia

"Log Entry: 0200 hours, May 29, 2005 Position: Lat N 24° 56.5', Long W 118° 59.1' Wind: NE 10, Sea: NE Swell 4 feet, Weather: Broken Cloud Heading: 180M Boat Speed: 5 knots
The early morning hours are playing tricks with my mind. It seems that time and movement has stopped. It feels this morning as if we are suspended. We are floating on the liquid skin of mother earth - weightless in the tension between gravity and buoyancy, going neither ahead in time nor in space.
Every day, all day, we sail on before the timeless NW wind, but the ocean horizon ahead never arrives, and the restless parade of seas overtaking from behind never cease. Every day the sun rises in the same place on our port side, and every night the sun sets in the same place on our starboard side. Even though the bright green numbers on the GPS are counting down to the equator, even though food is disappearing from our lockers, even though fresh fruit is decaying in the galley hanging baskets and even though laundry is accumulating for wash up day, I am not persuaded we are moving at all. The horizon never arrives.
More likely, the sights and sounds of movement around the boat are an illusion. The sound river of the bow wave ahead and the gurgle of water moving past the stern, is a sign the ocean moving past us, not us through it. Our daily plots cross the chart are just made up by our instruments to keep us comforted. I am not convinced we are moving at all. Every day is the same; the sea, the sky, the wind, the boat, the birds. The changeless ocean has enchanted us with its illusion of movement and progress, but we are stopped and going nowhere, nowhere at all.
.... We are suspended, Irena, me and Conversations. Time and space stand still in this large bowl of a horizon, a perfect circle around us.
There is no place else in the universe where I want to be. I have all the time in the world to just be here."

Speaking of enchantment, with perfect grace, the ocean gave up a fish for our feasting yesterday. A giant Whahoo. It was by far, the biggest fish I have ever caught. No fooling, it was big - heavier than a carry on bag and lighter than an checked bag. It took two of us to drag her aboard. It was taller than 10 year old, but shorter than Irena. I could barely lift it with two hands. It took an hour to clean and butcher her, and today we are attempting to freeze in our modest onboard freezer an estimated 30 pounds of fillets and steaks. Come back to the blog to see pictures after we land, you'll see what I mean.

Speaking of landing, we are 425 miles from Rodriguez and will likely arrive Friday morning.
Cress

From exactly in the middle of nowhere!

2011-08-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

Sniff…. Sniff…..[from exactly in the middle of nowhere]
One thing we know without doubt: These days, all three of us onboard are keen for news from friends. So, though it's not completely true we are just sitting about waiting for emails, it's practically true!
Now, we know it's a sure thing that all of you out there have a lot more to do with your time than we do on the good ship Conversations, with our long passage and all to Rodriguez. We know it's not your duty as friends to entertain us either, especially with your full lives of work and family (and your other friends who have not deserted you). We know that while we spend our time in the plain routines of keeping watch, sleeping, reading, cooking, keeping watch, sleeping, reading, cooking etc., day after unbroken day, as an endless, unchanging horizon stretches to flatness in every direction….. [sigh] ….that your lives are full of wonderful places to go, people to see, and deadlines to meet. Yup it's a wonder we get any email at all.
And, we know, as a matter of fact, it's probably our fault that we spend every dusk and dawn bending over our ham radio twiddling dials to no apparent purpose. Clearly it is our just desserts: For all our boasting about all the nice places we have been to lately and all the fun we have been having. Heck if I were in your shoes, I'd probably just hit "delete" every time I saw another friendly damn email from the tropics!
But I know you are bigger people than I. I know you are not taken as I am by petty jealousy and downright self centeredness and do not let your busy lives, like I do, divert my attention from my friends and get lost in the jet stream of modern living. Not you guys!

So please, if you can spare even a few moments, email us at sea by putting "/winlink" at the start of the subject line and (we think) your welcome news will slip through the Winlink.org spam filters and into our inbox. Address: VE7CXW@winlink.org
Radio Operators are standing by!
(with apologies to m Judy and Michael Aschner, who email for email, outnumber even our weather bulletins)
Cress

thank you universe for sending us a little less wind and a little fish for dinne

2011-08-24T04:52:00.000-07:00

Eve of Day four ends and darkness descends on our wee vessel alone here in the middle of the Indian Ocean, sailing on.

We had a great day sailing with a little less wind and a wee mahimahi for dinner. We had some sun, a lot less spray aboard and some energy to do more than stand watch and read in our berths. I tackled the drainage problem we have with the water making its way forward from the aft lockers, getting stuck adjacent the engine room in our flat bottom boat and washing up over the sole. Very annoying. Well I bailed, cleared the limber holes, but more needs to be done in harbour.

Winds 20 knots and under this evening, so we are back up to a double reefed mainsail and still with staysail, hopefully for the night. If so it will be a far better cry than last night watches last night stretched out across the companionway trying under the dodger to get out of the spray and the wind. Fairly cool already. Forecast is for 15 knots from the E for a day tomorrow then SE at 15 for a day from the SE. So we are hopeful the 30 knot stuff is finished for now.

Position S 15.01.298 E 087 12.076 course 260 speed 8 knots. Sailed 180 miles last 24 hours. It might be 200 if our windvane would steer straight, but it still beats steering by hand!

Good night world!

Day 4 and all is well

2011-08-23T21:24:00.000-07:00

Irena here - Well I guess some of us are taking a little longer to adjust than Cress!

With the wind easing just a wee bit last night, and the sun coming out to grace our day, everything seems just a bit brighter. We are finally getting some rhythm on this passage. Well, at the very least I am finally feeling fine, motion sickness has finally passed. Still a fair amount of motion knocking us about the cabin below. Eitan was thrown across the boat twice yesterday(once with a basin of saltwater - yuck!) - but still all in one piece (except for the saltwater which spread itself all about the cabin sole).

I find when the motion is like this, you need to do everything in slow motion and remember to brace yourself all the time (which is something difficult to do for us type a's who are used to doing 5 things at the same time). So when I get knocked off balance, I get really pissed with the boat, and with anyone who happens to be within 5 feet of me! It's the same as when you hit our head on the cupboard door - that you, and only you left open. You want to blame someone, anyone! But in the end, there is no one there to take the blame - so you sulk a little, lick your wounds and carry on, being a little more careful for a while, until the boat takes an unexpected lurch.... and it starts all over again!

I am curious about how Eitan sees it - will ask him to post his thoughts. We all felt so miserable yesterday afternoon, we actually passed on happy hour! At about 5 pm each day we all get together for a beer, or G&T if we can manage it, or a scotch if things are particularly tough - but yesterday, each in our own misery, too wet in the cockpit to even think about gathering there, and not feeling very social, we just didn't bother. Nothing was said, it just seemed to be a general consensus.

But today is a whole new day! Sun is shining, cockpit dry and spirits rising - YES and did I mention that it is actually pretty glorious out there? Big huge waves that slip under us and carry us forward, a few birds that have been following us and who fly with such ease and grace over the waves, they are like watching a ballet. Today is a great day to be alive!

In the meantime, I will slowly go to the galley now and make a cup of tea...

Sa' fine day to rise at sea!

2011-08-22T17:03:00.000-07:00

Steel grey giants roll up behind and under, sea birds swoop and dive, a stout rig pulling strong over the lumpy water. Tall clouds ring the horizon all around. It's clear above. The descending moon giving way on one side of the sky to the rising yellow sun climbing the other. I drink my morning coffee in the cockpit, coming on watch. Its beautiful. Its powerful. And is only today, the morning of day three, that we have emerged from the tough, head down, get-the-job-done transition of putting to sea. Only this morning am I able to appreciate it.
It's been two heavy weather days, nothing like a storm, but brisk. Winds hovering between 20 and 30 knots building big seas in an unbroken fetch of thousands of miles. We are sailing on a beam to broad port reach, with triple reefed main, and sometimes, when the wind abates, staysail. This sail combination gives us enough power to sail along comfortably at 8 knots, and is easily changed up and down with the wind. And we have had rain too, lots of it, washing away the salt temporarily, it only to be replaced from the constant spray from waves running into the boat's topsides. Even in the cockpit, we get it too, a good dousing of salt water, randomly.
Everyone standing up well, looking forward to having the winds abate, and to having the sun prevail.
Position: S 13 38.55 E 091 37.14 Course 250, Speed 8 knots. 1660 miles to go. Cress

And away we go!

2011-08-21T03:47:00.000-07:00

Set sail this morning at 0930 for Rodrigeuz - 2000 miles away.
Winds, as almost always in this part of the world, SE at 15 to 20 knots. Making good time this evening as the sun sets. Two reefs in the main and full genoa - better balanced for our wind vane to cope. Sailing at 8 knots plus just the same.
s 12 09.61 e 095.486 Course 256
All well on board and supper calls!
Cress

Cocos Keeling: Short but sweet

2011-08-19T00:26:00.000-07:00

Friday August 19, 2011

Here we sit in Cocos Keeling…. Pretty sleepy, that’s for sure. As luck would have it, it is Ramadan now, so it’s really sleepy! It’s actually snoring. The ferry connecting us to the island where our boat is anchored is only making trips until 3 pm. Oh, and the dive shop has both of its boats out of the water for servicing!

We had an excellent snorkel yesterday in a place called ‘the rip’ – so called because the tide rips through the outer reef into the lagoon at a very fast pace. You can only swim/snorkel in that area just before low tide for an hour or so, and after that the current is just so strong we would be swept away to sea, or at least across the lagoon. So yesterday we swam and snorkelled our hearts out and swam like bandits through the river of a tide to get back to our dinghy. But the coral was beautiful, lots of huge Parrot fish (Buntheads), some Trevali and even a black tipped Reef Shark (although a family of 5 of these circle the boat morning and evening looking for food scrap handouts and we don’t disappoint them)!

We are enjoying our time here, and have decided to push through to Rodriguez Island sooner rather than later – its 2000 NM away to the west. Irena will then go back to Singapore for a couple of weeks work from there. And there will be a lot more for Cress and Eitan to do on Rodriguez – 37,000 pop., hiking, kite-surfing, diving and even restaurants.

A couple of cruisers have mistaken Eitan for our son. “So what it’s like sailing with your parents” asked one yachtie on board for sundowners. Eiton, with his bandana in place thought he said "Whats it like being a pirate" and simply went "Erghhhhh". Parent or Pirate, we really value his company and guitar playing. Cress enjoys the teaching sailing and Irena enjoys feeding him!

We should be in Rodriguez before the leaves hit the ground in Canada. It promises to be a natural wonderland, an island 7x8 kilometres surrounded by a lagoon twice the size of the island in the centre. Mountain hikes, more lagoon side beaches, kite surfing and not too many people. We expect to get underway Saturday or Sunday and will keep you posted on our progress with position reports and lies about how big the fish are (that is if we ever catch any, but of course you will never know for sure!)

Safe at Anchor in Cocos Keeling - three 200 mile days to sail here - unbelievabl

2011-08-16T04:04:00.000-07:00

An absolutely pristine, tropical island atoll, Cocos Keeling welcomed us with sunny skies, crystal blue waters,friendly cruisers and a fabulous tradewind breeze to keep us cool as we soak up the beauty in the lee of Direction Island. Staggeringly natural.
Tomorrow we will begin the exploration. Tonight we are looking forward to a night of cool breezes blowing down the hatch, swinging under the moon, peace at anchor!
C

Rockin!

2011-08-14T03:09:00.000-07:00

Day one was a 200 mile day! Outstanding.

Day two has dawned clear and cool, the SE trades rebuilding from the SE to 20 knots. Sun sparkling on 2 meter seas, our fishing line in tow. Ripping along on a beam reach at 8 knots. Bow wet, cockpit dry.

While it is pretty much hands off sailing, we spend our time on watch and off watch reading, catching up on sleep, and well of course, eating. Nibbling really. Its rough enough to eat "bowl" meals, all delicious out here.

It's cool too. The water temperature is significantly cooler than the equatorial waters now 500 miles to the north. Irena stood last nights watch in a fleece jacket, nylon wind breaker and near long pants. No shoes though, great pedicure before she left.

Eitan is fitting right in, quick learner, good cook and easy companion. Really appreciate his company and contribution. Thanks man!

Boat is behaving well, no problems so far. Love the addition of the staysail. When the wind gets up, its easy to roll out the staysail and roll up the genoa with the power winch. Hydrovane (wind steering) doing most of the work at the helm, though it still requires a fair amount of attention to keep her steering straight. Solar panels and wind generator keeping up with the demands of instruments, freezer and lights- possible now that we have switched to LED lit running and cabin lights.

Was reflecting last night alone on watch on the experience of setting out on passage and how it is so much like embarking on anything of consequence. Anxiety from my uncertainty is my main tone before departure, discomfort during the early days adapting, resistance to what is that is making it tough, then some period of struggle, then finally surrender. Only after surrender, am I capable of starting to notice and appreciate what is. Only then do I start to engage my present circumstance constructively. Creatively. Lovingly. With appreciation and joy. After that? Then probably, successful landfall and the destination of our choice and desire! Its Joseph Campbell's Hero's journey - Ambition. Prevarication. Jump into Abyss. Struggle. Becoming. Resolution.

Coming up to noon, lunch (and a beer) then what else? A nap!

Position 1010 utc S 09 00.62, E101 35.590 C 237 speed 8 kts 336 nm to Cocos Keeliinng

We Are Away!

2011-08-13T03:37:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone!
Set sail this morning at 0700 hours from Krakatau (Indonesia) for Cocos Keeling (Australia).
Fast start - 100 miles in the first 12 hours - sailing on close reach in 15 knots from the SE, moderate seas,sunshine and a dry cockpit!We are celebrating our first pactor(email)contact since leaving just a few minutes ago (glad we can stay in touch with the world this way.

Position 1035 hours utc: 07 08.353S, 104 04385E, course 235, speed 8.8 knots.
Will try to post every day - 529 miles to Cocos Keeling'

Cresswell

testing email posts

2011-08-09T04:24:00.001-07:00

At sea, we will be posting by email on our blog, assuming we can make Pactor modem ham radio links along the way. It’s all a bit iffy, but we’ll sure be trying!

2011-08-09T04:09:00.000-07:00

Departure looms!

Tomorrow we will jump through the last of the hoops with officials, pay our bills, wave farewell to the great people here at the Batavia Marina, and untie the lines that bind us to the dock in Jakarta. We are setting sail for Cocos Keeling! Along the way we will stop beside Krakatau in hopes of some fireworks, but not more than a day or two at anchor.

Our departure tomorrow will be a bit of a dance - trying to get out of the marina before high tide, so that we can get through Sundra Straight - about 50 miles away, before the currrent of 2 knots turns against us. But, .... it will be what it will be. So what if it takes us 48 rather 24 hours to reach Krakatau?!

Is the boat really ready after months and months of preparation? Time will tell.

But either way, I for one, am very keen to get the heck out Jakarta. Love the people, hate the pollution. My eyes are burning.

Stay tuned!

Cress

2011-08-02T07:02:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhhh…. The spirit of boatness is back! I don’t know where she went, but I am very pleased she is back. Maybe, to make her presence known, she demands day after day of hard labour on the boat. Or maybe it is the iminent prospect of a 5500 mile ocean passage across an unknown sea, the need to get it right, before setting sail. Or maybe it’s getting free of the troubles of survival in the city, a return to the pleasures of a moonlit wash of the sea lapping on the boot top. Or maybe it’s all three. Or maybe it’s none of the above. I don’t know.

But I do know what hard labour looks like. I wake before the sun, alone in the aft cabin double berth, the predawn light not yet visible through the hatch over the berth, no hints yet of another day coming. It’s too soon to get up – to groan with stiffness yet. I usually lie there a moment thinking I really want to sleep, then that part of me that keeps me on the straight and narrow says sit up in bed and meditate in the quiet, you always like it when you do!. And I do, often sitting for 30 to 45 minutes, alternating between a relentless stream of thoughts and the odd moment of floating free. Sometimes, if I have woken early enough, when I am done, I will reward myself and crawl back under the covers. As I auger into the comfort of the cold side of my pillow, I inhale the comfort of Conversations tugging at her lines. With a certain smugness, I remember the sound of aircon will drown out the call to prayers in this part of the world – I have done my part.

Finally, its daylight. I am genuinely ready for another day in the magic kingdom. The pleasure at the day’s sweet smells are soon overwhelmed bythe heat. The sweating begins almost as soon as I stagger to my feet, and grope forward to the galley and put the kettle on for morning coffee in my underwear. And I mean, the sweat is on! In this 32 C plus climate, I will sweat until the lights go off at the end of the day and the aircon in the aft cabin goes back on. But we cope. I will several times during each day be showering under the hose on the swim grid, recovering my wa. By 7am, coffee in hand, I climb up the companion way to sit in the cockpit, waiting for it and sunrise to bring my excitement for the day. Before it is done, I am usually off on the first project.

Today, is day four of hard labour. I started with thinking what to do to get our crew, Ali, started. But he surprised me, already at work on the forward hatch when I came on deck with my coffee. He was pulling out the leaking main hatch lens. By the time I said “selamat pagi” (good morning I am learning) he was already getting the hatch ready to re-bed. I looked over my list of 46 items. I decide this mornig to start small. I installed a new hard point (a place to attach life harness to in nasty weather) in the cockpit, replaced a grill over the engine room vent, and laid a bead of silicon around the galley top before the rot set in. After lunch and a requisite 20 minute nap, I had the marina call me a taxi and dove into Jakarta traffic to buy some groceries. Without Irena, I either have take Ali out to dinner every night, or cook for us both.

By 2pm I was back with a trunk load. I had found an excellent grocery store, with fresh food and everything!

I decided to tackle the goose neck (the joint between the main boom and the mast) It had been making the dry grating sounds of dry metal grinding bare metal. It turned out to be one of the few jobs that actually went as planned. I easily pulled out the ten ¼ inch machine screws. “Easy” because the mast manufacture did it right – anchoring the stainless steel bolts in a stainless steel plate, instead of tapping into the mast’s aluminium extrusion. I drilled and ground a couple of custom washers to fit (you can never have too many tools) and, with some waterproof lithium grease, the whole things was back together in two hours. I had time to spare so I pulled off the mainsail “stack pack” and the dragged out the 50 kg sewing machine and started to install a plastic drain in the cover canvas. The plan is to direct the rain water off the main sail into the ships water tanks. In the name of simplicity and weight (not to mention cost and trouble) we have forgone having a water maker. The main sail, at over 750 square feet catches a lot of water in a tropical squall. With luck and if I have put the drain in the right place, we will have lots of free water this way. We would never run out of drinking water with our tank capacity, but extra water makes the passages much more comfortable. Washing the salt off at the end of each day at sea is a huge luxury for a small boat cruiser and one to which I am increasingly disposed!

So that’s a day of hard labour on Conversations. Tomorrow I am going to have Ali haul me 65 feet up the mast on the power windless to inspect the rigging, and change light bulbs to LEDs. I think I’ll have him practice on a bucket of water first. And I’ll tell him if he drops me he won’t get paid.

The quality of 'boatness', I have decided, is the quality of feeling engaged in something of value. Its a 'quality of being' available to everyone, but not of course, necessarily in the guise of 'boatness'. It would be any other thing of value to a person. In the quality of boatness, I feel back in my own skin. For me the elements are being in a place of nature, being engaged in a project that challenges me with an uncertain outcome, of sufficient challenge that I rise each day with a sense of purpose and possibility. And a sense, 'its up to me'. So what, you might ask yourself, is your quality of 'boatness' and what are the elements prerequisite to your having the joy of experiencing it?

I think, another element is that when we are in our 'boatness' whatever that is for each of us, its about doing what I (we) are here on the planet to do. It's not that boatness is everything, and that it is perfect and it is the only thing - it is not any of these of course - but it is to say that "for today it is enough". Tomorrow it will be different, and that does not take away from the value of it for today.

Tonight, Ali and I had salmon steaks, salad, potatoes, and French bread. Sentenced to a life of hard labour? I should be so lucky!

2011-07-20T01:07:00.000-07:00

Tap, tap, tap..... the sound of my foot on the hotel floor in Singapore, itching now as I am to rejoin the boat and set sail. Guess I'll have to do with looking at photos......

Did you know that the average boat owner spends 10 hours working on his boat for every 1 hour he spends sailing? Did you know that he spends 50 times as much on boat parts, moorage, insurance, annual haulouts and repairs than he does on beer?

(I have no idea if either is true. what think you fellow sailors?) Cress

Instant Failure!

2011-07-12T19:08:00.001-07:00

Now there is a phrase to haunt the careless nuclear power plant operator or maybe a parachutist imagining pulling his parachute harness release instead of his rip-cord. Whatever its application, I thought when I first heard the phrase “instant failure” it had a ringing finality to it. There could be no coming back from an “instant failure”. But not so in Singapore: In Singapore instant failure is a way of doing things. I have many times personally experienced instant failure and, now that I am just visiting Singapore, I am here to tell this tale.

I suppose if I had thought about it, I might have associated instant failure with a driving school. You know, the kind of failure we would associate with a flustered student driving the school car into an office showroom window. Or maybe “instant failure” would apply to a driving student caught whispering into a two way radio in his jacket breast pocket during the theory exam. I met the anguish of “instant failure” in the clutches of Comfort Driving School.

I am not sure where the name “Comfort Driving School” comes from. Getting motorcycle lessons in the 33 degree Celsius heat in Singapore, wasn’t particularly comfortable, nor were the long pants, gloves, helmet, elbow and knee pads we had to wear. Maybe it was intended that I take ‘comfort’ in the fact that I was being trained inside the most thorough motorcycle training regimes on this side of the milky way.

I didn’t take any comfort knowing that only a fraction of those who start the training actually persevere long enough to obtain a license. Maybe I was to take comfort from knowing, for all this effort, the biggest motorcycle I would be able to drive would be one with a less than 200 cc engine. But 200 CCs or 2000 CCs, there was no comfort knowing we are all still just sitting ducks for any of Singapore’s 15,000 geriatric taxis drivers. One person dies on a motorcycle every other day in Singapore. That’s certainly no comfort. One thing for sure, it was no comfort to know that at anytime, during anyone of my 12 examinations, the prospect of ‘instant failure’ was one false step away.

Here is how the how it works at the Comfort Driving School. It starts with riding theory, and, of course, a riding theory exam. The riding theory exam is passed by getting at least 45 of 50 multiple choice questions correct on at least one of your multiple attempts at the exam in the computer lab. Only get forty four questions correct? - Instant Failure!

Now I confess I didn’t make this easy for myself. To prepare for the theory exam, we were required to attend two theory lesson nights of about three hours each. The night of the first evening, after registration, the door was locked presumably to keep those in who had registered. But having been appraised of this beforehand, and having made previous business commitments, when the instructor turned his head, I slipped out the back of the room through the side door that I had unlocked in planning my escape. I ran out of the building and jumped into a waiting taxi and sped across town to attend my evening appointment. After the meeting, I jumped in another taxi and roared back to the school to slip back into my seat just before the sessions ended. You see, I had to return in order to get my student card stamped that I had been in attendance. I guess if you treat me like an adolescent, that’s how I will act. And you know, it was just as much fun as I remember it. On the second evening, to ward off what my friend had reported from the first session as a crushingly boring time, we brought in a very tall bottle of pre-mixed vodka and orange juice. It seemed to work. Although I am slightly ashamed of my behavior both nights – In retrospect it was preparation for what was to follow – the practical lessons and traffic police examinations.

After passing the theory test examinations, we could begin the onsite practical training – presented in 12 ‘easy’ lessons. Well, not so easy actually. Most students averaged about 3 to 4 attempts to “pass” through each of the 12 lesson exams, plus practice revisions, not to mention retraining if one were to fail the traffic police test at the end. I meet one stalwart soul who had been at it more than two years, and had failed the traffic police test five times! I didn’t think he wanted me to ask him how many lessons he had paid for. You see, you must pass each lesson in the subjective opinion of the instructor, or repeat it.

You have to admit this is a pretty good business model. Students can’t move on to the next lesson until the school says so. There are no individual private lessons allowed in Singapore and you can’t challenge the police road test. And you pay for each lesson, of course, and for each exam attempt, etc, etc. I paid for about 40 lessons. Now that would be a comfort to any driving school!

I suppose I shouldn’t complain, at least I wasn’t a motorcycle in the Comfort Driving School. As you can imagine, your lot as a motorcycle in a driving school, is not a happy one. After you have been thrashed around by the motorcycle trainees for 6 months or so, the final duty of a motorcycle before retirement at the Comfort Driving School is to expire in the first lesson fleet. One drill in the first lesson is driving one of these bikes, from very close range, into a large rubber tire mounted on a brick wall. This is our first opportunity to practice moving off, and I guess, stopping. Another drill is circling endlessly, and starting and stopping in unison without crashing into the guy in front. As you can imagine the sound of motorcycles falling over is fairly constant in the first lesson.

In lessons two, three and four, we were introduced to the driving site. Within the Comfort Driving School compound, there is a four or five acre driving site – sort like a giant version of a kid’s toy carpet with roads, stop signs, traffic lights and parking areas. It looks real enough until you notice there are only two colors of vehicle on the roads - a fleet of silver Toyota sedans and an army of blue 125cc Kawasaki motorcycles. And, you will notice, they are all moving, slowly, VERY slowly. I suppose it’s a good thing, but it is painfully slow for someone who has been driving for a long time. It’s like driving in molasses.

Now where was I?

Oh yes, “instant failure”

Within the site, there are 10 specific training stations designed for instant failure. There is the starting and stopping slope, the figure 8 course, the crank course, the emergency brake course and the slalom course. Finally, there is the greatest nemesis of them all - the “plank”. The “plank” is about four inches high, only a foot wide and about 30 feet long. Students ride and fall off the plank until they can stay on for its full length. After that, students must ride it at ultra slow speed, taking at least 6 seconds to traverse its length. In all of the training stations, touch a cone, touch the ground with your right foot, fall off the plank, be too fast, be too slow, look right first instead of looking left first, stop outside the line, fail to turn on your headlight -- instant failure! Instant failure means repeating the lesson, and that means waiting another 7 to 10 days for a lesson opening and making the sojourn back to the Comfort Driving School for another two hours in the baking sun. Lesson five is the on-site test, where students must run the course with no instant failures and less than 14 demerit points. Pass this test and students can to begin public road training. By lesson five, the sound of falling motorcycles is replaced by the anguished groans of “instant failure”.

It is at lesson five that many simply give up; it seems they cannot pass. After three practice sessions and three repeats of lesson five, I was ready to call it a day. The first time I failed from too many demerit points, primarily because I failed to enter the course when the flashing light started (nobody had told me what the flashing light was for). The second time, my right foot touched down in the crank course when I blew a shift into second gear – instant failure. The third time, I fell off the plank – instant failure. Finally, on my fourth try at the lesson test I passed.

By now, I had been in the process four months, made about 20 trips to the Comfort Driving Centre, and reached the point where I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was like a boot camp recruit – all resistance beaten out of me. In the end, I was determined to pass, even if for no better reason than just to prove to myself that I, in another life, was a competent human being. For thirty five years I have driven everything from motorcycles to tanker trucks. I am licensed to fly airplanes, but at the Singapore Comfort Driving School I was a driving nobody!

Finally, after another two more months of lessons and waiting, lessons and waiting, the big day arrived. Ninety students assembled at 7:15 am at the Comfort Driving School for the traffic police examination. Those that passed would be granted the dubious privilege of driving a motorbike on the public streets of Singapore. Those that failed, well, they got to continue the bondage for at least another 6 months or walk away from their considerable investment. All that stood between freedom and drudgery was a single instant failure: forget to turn on the headlight, the briefest brush of a cone, a missed shift, stopping behind the wrong line or falling off the damn plank and we would be toast. Is it any wonder so many Singaporeans say getting their drivers license is their greatest accomplishment?

The School sent us out on a practice round before the examination, first around the site, then our around the street test route. By 10:00 am we were numbered up in clusters of ten, assigned a bike from the pack at random and assembled like soldiers on the parade ground. Looking around, there were some pretty anxious faces hanging out in that hot morning sun, including my own.

Out of ninety students, only two expats were lined up to take the test, and we were numbered one and two. Number One, my friend, Chris, would lead us all around the test course, I was to be number two behind him. At last, the first ten were told to ‘start your engines’. With an indifferent wave, my expat compatriot and I we were the first two sent out onto the course.

I was like a puppy dog following Chris. We made our way to the stopping slope, the figure 8, the crank course and then to the dreaded plank, which neither of us fell from. After the emergency stop, we were still clear of the dreaded instant failure zones on site and clear to ride the open road test. But alas, all would not be well. At the first intersection, we waited behind a very large truck on a right turn. Chris started across the intersection, but stopped suddenly to avoid a car running the red light. I looked down – oh my gawd - Chris had put his foot down outside the turning pocket - Instant Failure!

Afterward the road test, we assembled with all 88 other students in a big classroom to wait the final verdict. One by one, the traffic police called people out of the room. Those called out were briefed, presumably, on why they failed. Long minutes later, the room was half empty. We sat. We sweated. Chris and I sat hoping. One of the instructors winked at us and gave us the high sign. We guessed either the traffic police couldn’t’ see Chris’ transgression behind the truck, or that Chris was forgiven for stopping outside the turning pocket as acceptable under the pressure of a car running a red light. We were never called out of the room, but couldn’t allow ourselves to believe that it was true we had passed until at last they closed the door and started showing the final films of our training – an hour of videos on all the ways we could die riding a bike on the streets of Singapore. Now they tell us!

I will never forget the Comfort Driving School. Its regimented approach to training, typical of the whole education system in Singapore, helped me understand my adult Singaporean coaching clients better. I learned humility, or at least what it might look like. And I thank my lucky stars every morning when I wake, that I will never, ever, again be forced to submit to the terror of instant failure!

Okay, I promise, next blog, back to sailing!

Cress

Sailing into Jakarta.

2011-07-10T21:52:00.000-07:00

Something out of the corner of my eye caused me to look up from the book I was reading. Less than a half a mile ahead was a trampy looking Indonesian fishing craft. She was steaming a course to take her across our bows. I was unhappy to see her slow to a near stop, seeming to wait for us to come her way as we would naturally over the next five minutes if we continued our current course.

In this heavily fished part of the world, Indonesian fishing boats steam about day and night in search of an ever diminishing catch. During the day there are usually one or two fishing boats in sight, but at night, with their lights, their numbers seem to treble. Some are vastly lit squid boats, with booms and racks of fishing lights visible over the horizon for more than 20 miles. Others are lit with whatever flash lights or candles come to hand. And some, of course, are unlit. Fishing boats are the main reason to keep watch on this passage over the Java Sea. It was late afternoon and we were approaching Jakarta on the coast of Java after a fast and reasonably comfortable 3 day, 400 hundred nautical mile passage from Borneo. On board with Irena and I was, Ali, a young Indonesian crew. Both were asleep below, leaving me alone on deck.

I was on edge to begin with. In the best of circumstances I am tense arriving in a city of 8 million people, but when it is a place of 7,999,900 poor people scratching a living from dirt and steaming garbage, my gut tightens in defence of my shame for their poverty - and in defence of my precious possessions. I had flown into Jakarta several times before, but then to see business clients. I had felt protected from the poverty by my suit and tie. Passing down the back streets ofJakarta, peering from the back seat of luxury cab the, the distance between me and their lives was far greater than the thickness of a single pane of tinted auto glass. And this time, it was different: I was on their ground. I was just a another sailor, at sea in a small boat, making landfall.

On we sailed till we were within shouting distance of the wooden fish boat. She was about 40 feet in length, with an open deck forward and deck house aft constructed so haphazardly of scrap lumber, it wasn’t clear why it didn’t simply collapse and fall overboard. Thumping away in the background was an old single cylinder diesel blowing smoke rings out a pipe exhaust stack. Lines and nets lay about on deck everywhere, but though mostly unpainted, she had the strong sea worthy look of a working boat. I counted a crew of five small brown men on deck, all shirtless, looking at us approach with great interest. I could sense again how we are a curiosity to them in this part of the world with our smooth fibreglass hull and clean white sails. I wondered, How do they regard our apparent wealth and freedom to go about simply for our entertainment and delight?

As we came abeam, one of them held up what must have been the largest of their catch, maybe a 10 pound fish of what kind I had no idea, gesturing, smiling and calling out in Bahas what I guessed too be an invitation to come alongside and buy. I had been approached like this several times before, but in Malaysia. Once I had allowed myself to be persuaded by my own crew to come alongside, and we had ended up paying a big price for a long eel-ish looking fish that I found barely edible, though to local tastes it must have been at least fine. Not today I decided. “No thanks” I shook my head, and smiled as broadly as I could. As I waved and sailed past, as is so often the way with Indonesians, the crew broke forth with all the English they knew “Hello, where are you going?”, “Where are you from?” and “How much?” Great questions.

Over the coming days in Jakarta, my anxiety eased, but my shame did not. Many times walking and driving amongst the crowds, exhaust and dirt of Jakarta, Irena and I were called to reflect on the poverty and the apparent gap between what we have and what they do not have. How can we, as the developed world, hoard our wealth and deny the majority of people in world basic civilized comforts? How can we cruelly and hypocritically tempt developing worlds into debt, and then take so much and give so little? How can the minority rich and powerful of Indonesia do so little to reverse the spiral into poverty of the majority? In Jakarta, poverty is in our face.

We made our way safely into Jakarta's giant port, making a landfall in the dark at Batavia Marina. At first, we entered in the wrong harbour, but the marina sent out a guide boat to bring us in. But still, in the dark we had to pass over a sand bar of undetermined depth, without charts, showing less than 1.8meters on the depth sounder on a lee shore blowing 20 knots up the jackson. We were sweating bullets.

We are today back in Singapore at the Fairmont Hotel for three weeks to work and buy boat bits. The boat is safely tied up at the Batavia Marina waiting for our return, then we are off for Cocos Keeling!

Cress

Psst...wanna get rich..... quick?

2011-07-10T21:28:00.000-07:00

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That means: It takes just $1140 CAD to be a Billionaire. Yes, you read correctly - with just $1140 CAD YOU will at last be a Billionaire!!!! And here is the best part: You won’t have to pay Revenue Canada a dime! NOT A DIME!

Now isn’t that just one heck of a lot better than working your butt off in freezing Canada, giving back more than 55% or what you make in taxes?

So come on down and join us! Bring your boat, and you can be the second yacht in the Batavia Marina beside the billionaire’s yacht SV Conversations

Cresswell

I smell a rat

2011-07-06T18:00:00.001-07:00

Irena: Upon arriving in Kumai, as we motored near the town a speedboat very quickly approached us with a man waving his arms in the air, signaling us. Mr. Bain introduced himself in excellent English and within minutes he was on board showing us where to anchor and shoving flyers into our hands about his trip up the river to see the Orangutans. He was friendly enough, but rather pushy, and we knew that there would be several operators to choose from for our guided trip. And indeed a second speedboat rushed over also waving pamphlets and recommendation letters. This second boat with a tour operator named Adi, kept a little more distance, but gave us their information to look over. After several tries at getting Mr. Bain off the boat (he was now comfortably ensconced in the cockpit), we told both operators that we would think it over and decide later. We still had 3 days before we would take the trip, so no rush.

The only cruising boat in the river, we easily found a nice spot to anchor across from the town. Finally we were anchored, fed and cleaned up as Dennis, Rita and I ventured out to see the town, while Cress went to work preparing for his conference call later that afternoon. Both operators told us they had a place for us to dock our dinghy while we went ashore, and we choose the place closest to the National Park Office - which happened to be near Adi and his crew. As soon as we neared the shore, there were Adi and his friends (Ali and one other) ready to take our lines and help us on shore, securing the dinghy and inviting us to tea, and talking about anything else they could do to help us. So we had tea with Adi at his house across the street, and learned a bit about his tour operation. Very good English and good recommendation letters.

Also friendly and helpful. He even showed us the boat that we would be going on, which was large and commodious to accommodate only the 4 of us. He explained we would have a guide, a cook, a captain and an assistant.All good. Again, not rushing in, we walked into the town, found the market and stocked up with some fresh fruit and veggies.

When we returned to the dinghy, Adi and Ali were both there again to help us with all our stuff. Ali then invited us to attend a local wedding celebration that evening for dinner. Although we did not want to impose, he assured us that this was standard practice to invite 'tourists' - so we agreed to come. Later that evening, we all came back to shore, Ali and his wife and daughter were there to meet us and escort us into the wedding. It was an unusual affair, in an alleyway at the back of the main street with a buffet table setup and about 30 tables for guests. Guests came in through a receiving line made up of family of the bride and groom. Next we immediately went to the buffet table, loaded up and found a table to sit and eat.

The bride and groom were in a throne like setting right near our table and were seated as if on display - fully made up and dressed up (man they would have been hot, it was about 85 degrees still). After we finished the local dinner (fairly meagre), we went to congratulate the bride and groom, dropping off our 'gift' (money). And that was it! We left! And more people arrived to take our place. Basically people rotate through for a couple of hours eating and then making space for new guests. I suppose this way the young couple maximize their 'gifts' without needed to rent a huge hall or find enough tables for everyone. We were told there would be dancing later on, but we did not stick around.

Cress here, continuing the tale.

In the end we booked with Adi, and we had a good trip with excellent crew, great Orangutan viewing and a comfortable, but slow boat. It was a great two nights and three days, really, very relaxing going up the jungle river sitting up on the top deck, the crew, captain and cook preparing meals, laying out bedding and pointing out the Proboscis and Macaque monkeys hanging over the river from the tree tops.

We all loved it. The Orangutans were so impressive – especially the ‘Kings’ of the 2 large families we encountered. Basically at several camps along the river, we took a 15-20 minute walk through the jungle to a feeding station, where the rehabilitated Orangutans are fed once a day as they transition back into jungle life. They were amazing to watch, the mum’s and babies were adorable.

The little ones were so much like 2 year olds – squirming and jiggling and jumping around with one hand or foot always on mum. But there was never any doubt about the hierarchy. When the king arrived on the scene, the whole area cleared immediately to make room and left him alone to eat what he pleased for as long as he pleased. It truly felt like he was gracing us with his presence, totally on his terms!

Now, back to the river boat….. and Adi. We learned over time that Adi was quick with promises and short on delivery on a number of fronts. We all went along in the spirit of not taking things too seriously, but we took him to task when he shortened our trip by half a day without telling us before-hand. After some serious feedback to Adi and some rather harsh negotiations, we settled for a reduced rate on the balance of the trip. We learned later Adi has a reputation as bit of an operator with a taste for the local rice wine apparently, and other substances. I think I re-learned, when the second sentence out of Adi’s mouth after we first met him was, “You can trust me”, I ought in the future to be thinking about moving on. To you cruisers out there reading this, we recommend this excellent trip up the River from Kumai, but do it with a different operator. And, oh yes, when we returned to Conversations after the river trip, that night we had a new guest onboard – a rat scurrying under foot, crinkling at the food packaging all night long in the dark. Later Irena laughed, “I smell a rat” and we all wondered “Did Adi leave a calling card?” We don’t know for sure how he got on board – could have swam from a nearby freighter and climbed up the anchor chain, could have jumped from another boat while we were away and Adi and his ‘guard’ were minding the boat…. We will never know. Luckily we managed to get hold of some rat poison and within a couple days our new crew Ali found the dead rat lying in the cockpit and threw him overboard for good. What a relief!!!

One of Adi’s crew from the river trip, Ali, is still onboard with us. We were curious to experiment with having paid crew on board and he practically begged to come with us. So, while Dennis and Rita flew overhead on their flight to Jakarta, the three of us set sail from Kumai on the 400 NM ocean passage to Jakarta. Ali, at 36, has been a delight to have onboard. He has proved to be a quick learner, agile and at ease, and speaking some English, has helped us interpret here in Jakarta.

The passage from Kumai was, mercifully, downwind. Though we had to beat our way out of the river and over the approach shoals against 20 knots of southerly winds, after two hours we were able to lay off on a beam reach for Jakarta. We sailed most of the passage at 7 and 8 knots down the rhumb line – pure magic after the five days pounding to reach Kumai. With trepidation, we sailed into Jakarta in the dark and approached the shoal shore line where the marina was thought to be. We found a pair of marks and ducked into the wrong harbour! We got the Marina on the phone and they sent out a boat to guide us down an adjacent channel – least depth of 2.0 meters, which is coincidently exactly what we draw! Sweating bullets in the dark, it was a long slow trip over the bar. When we finally ‘landed’ at the dock, we discovered we were, and are, the only sailing yacht at the Batavia Marina. In the heart of old Jakarta, the delight of the Batavia Marina club is the new and stunning building. The folly and passion of a wealthy Indonesian, it is brimming with the best of classic Indonesian furnishings, art, antiques and architecture. Truly an amazing building, well kept, well staffed and a secure place to leave the boat for a few weeks while we go back to Singapore for work.

We will return here by the end of July to prepare for the next leg of our journey to Cocos Keeling. Until then, hope you are all enjoying a great summer!

Gone to the Birds

2011-07-06T17:58:00.001-07:00

Dennis-- Upon arriving at Kumai in the mid-morning we noticed many freighters lined along the shoreline of the river with many concrete building about 6 stories high all along the water's edge. They were many other buildings currently under construction but on closer look they had very few windows and the only openings were at the top. We realized that there were thousands of birds flying around them, darting in and out of them. When we got to shore we saw hundreds of 4" holes on each floor for ventilation. While some were solely bird houses some had a business on the ground floor, an apartment on the second then 4-6 stories of bird houses. I will not feel guilty about eating birds nest soup anymore as it is a big business down here.

Birds to banking.... Here in Kumai things are tough to get, especially money. Apart from the wad of Rupiahs you get, finding a bank ATM is a challenge. We went to an Indonesian National Bank 24h ATM but it was closed. Great!! Went to the open branch a few blocks away and they wouldn't let me take money out from the counter and it had no ATM and they said the other would be repaired in an hour. Went to another bank (BRI) and the ATM would not spit any money. Went inside and they said the machine is out of money and wouldn't have any that day. So we had to wait by the first machine for it to be repaired. Luckily we were able to sit under cover from the downpours that are frequent right now. Banks here don't accept travellers cheques. So a warning get lots of Indonesian Rupiah as you will spend them quickly even when you take out 2 million of them!

Anyway this is my last entry into the blog as we are going to the Tanjung Puting National Park to see the Orangutans tomorrow for 3 days then Rita and I will be flying home. Someone will write about our park trip I'm sure. We have really enjoyed our sail and look forward to more in the future.

Fishing anyone?

2011-06-28T01:17:00.000-07:00

Dennis: Though we have had our line out a number of times during our passage, nothing has yet to bite. I think the hundreds and probably thousands of boats that are out trying to catch the few remaining fish are just as unsuccessful. We have seen some old methods of fishing here that are still in use today. Some were just nets hanging from two poles in the river to very long traps over two miles long coming out from shore jutting out into our sailing path. Could be a problem if you were sailing at night through the shallow waters. Rita will tell a story of one occasion of our near miss.

The best we have seen was near Kuching where nets were lowered into the water from a platform with a bright light suspended from it. The water was about 6-7 m deep. Some had huts for sleeping or had a shelter to protect a generator for the lights. The first night we saw them we thought it was a village since it was just off an island, then we thought they might be fish boats at anchor - until we got closer. They looked like the fighter planes from the Empire Strikes Back movie (Little cones on stilts). Many islands that we passed had these traps around them.

The rivers and inshore fishing had narrow boats some with single piston motors using drag nets, throw nets, and sometimes a trolling line trying to catch minnow sized fish. A huge fleet of boats carrying up to 4 men were always present during our sail. They trolled or set nets. The big fleets of deep sea boats had a string of football field lights stretched across about 40 feet and the lights shining down to attract fish and cuttlefish into the drag nets. At night the whole horizon is glowing with these banks of lights. As I said in my fist blog, its the absence of birds and flying fish which is an indicator of an empty sea these fishers are trying to make a living at. Apparently the boats are subsidized for their fuel consumption. At any rate there is probably little political will to stop this overfishing and no cooperation with other countries so the result will be a sea devoid of any living creatures. We almost did it in Canada and are trying to do it on the west coast with our salmon. Enough of the depressing views, the sailing has been a learning process for both Rita and me and we have many more stories to tell when we are back home.

Rita here: The calm AFTER the storm. After a couple of relaxing days in Kuching, in Malaysian Borneo, complete with showers and air con at the marina, we started to make our way to Pontianak, Indonesia. Not more than a couple of hours away from the marina, we could see a storm heading our way. We ducked for cover in the same bay we had anchored in several nights earlier, at the foot of Bako National Park. Just in the nick of time, as the winds started to whip us around, the rains pelted us, and the waves tossed us around like a cork. Once the storm abated, we again headed out and spent the next 2 days and one night beating our way down the coast. It was exhausting -- everything on the boat was leaned one way or the other as we pounded, thumped,and tacked our way through the unsympathizing waves that washed right up over the boat -- soaking us as well as everything else in the boat. Our second night was shaping up to be more of the same. There was a collective sigh of relief as Cress spotted an island ahead and decided that we should try to anchor in a protected bay for the night. By this time it was getting dark. With "Eagle Eye" Dennis as our spotter, Cress forged ahead. "I see lights ahead" declared Dennis. "Must be houses." "Are you sure?" inquired Cress. "Well, they aren't bobbing up and down like boats", said Dennis. As we got closer, it was decided they weren't houses, so they "must" be boats. Closer yet, and Dennis realized we were headed into a group of fish traps, some of which were not lighted, and therefore nearly impossible to see. "Go to port", Dennis shouted to Cress. "Now go to starboard". It was like a slalom course! Suddenly Dennis yelled out "STOP! We're about to plough into one !" As Cress jerked the boat aside, a pole passed RIGHT beside the boat -- we had just passed throught 2 poles, like goal posts, marking another luckily empty trap. How we managed not to hit the pole (and not get hit) is amazing. After the narrow miss, we positioned ourselves in a quiet spot safely away from any traps. We tidied up, and after a round of stiff drinks, we had a good laugh over our near calamity. We spent a lovely, calm night, and all had a good sleep. Next morning, as we looked out, we could hardly believe our eyes. We were in a minefield of fish traps, (at least 70 of them), many with "guy wires" anchoring them. It is a miracle that we, and the fish traps, survived the previous night intact.

After a good rest, what had been a tough slog the 2 previous days became a challenge, and more fun, as we headed out for more beating and tacking, making our way to the mouth of the Kapuas River. The Kapuas River is like a major highway to Pontianak. We passed many freighters and tugs --again, some unlit, so it was stressful steering for Irena. However, she got us safely to a quiet anchorage for the night. After another long day, we were glad to have quiet waters and a good night's sleep.

The uphill battle to Kumai

2011-06-28T00:27:00.000-07:00

Irena: After 4 days and nights of 20+ SE winds - UPWIND all the way, we have finally reached Kumai. It was a struggle made bearable only because of our most amazing crew - Dennis and Rita. It is an understatement to say that they kept us all going - cheerful while being tossed around the galley trying to just pour a cup of coffee, steadfast at the helm through up to 25 kts of apparent wind, and up at all hours of the day and night as we all took our turns on watch. They are the definition of "good sports"! Thank you Dennis and Rita - we will always think of you when we sail upwind - which we hope will not be for quite some time! In fact, we are altering our course for the next leg and will head for Jakarta rather than Bali in order to go downwind. It will just be Cress and I for the next passage, and 400 miles downwind is a heck of a lot more appealing than 400 miles upwind.

However, that is not for a few days yet. We are currently anchored on the southwest corner of Borneo, up the river opposite the small town of Kumai (20,000 pop). A quaint town that relies on tourists who are coming to visit Tanjong Puting National Park to see Orangatans at the conservation/rehabilitation center - which we are about to do in the next couple of days. We are really looking forward to this trip on a river boat (while we leave Conversations in the good hands of a local 'guard'). We did manage to find a wonderful fish and fruit/veg market here where Rita talked us all into buying and trying a Durian (Aromatic - ok smelly - Asian delicacy fruit only Asians could love). I made it 5 years in Singapore without tasting a Durian - until last night. Only have 2 words - NEVER AGAIN! Sorry - but it was really aweful - and all I could taste for the next several hours - something like a cross between an onion and mashed bananas....

Ah well - now I can say I tried it at least - thanks Rita! OK - turning this over to Dennis next who has an account of part of our trip from Pontianak to Kumai. We did manage to make 2 stops along the way. One just to get out of big seas and take a break, and the other for my birthday celebration. It was fantastic. Only Cress, Dennis and Rita could have pulled this off. A star- studded evening, candlelight, roast chicken, roasted veggies, salad and chocolate birthday cake coming after 24 hours of upwind sailing. There were so many stars in the clear and dark night they were lighting up the water - just beautiful. Cress and I saw a shooting star that seemed to trail for 30-45 seconds. Great birthday :) I guess 55 will not be so bad after all. Irena

Pontianak

2011-06-21T21:17:00.000-07:00

June 22, 2011-06-22
Cress: Pontianak, Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo. Tis the day after skate board day, and all is well! Our new young skateboard friends from Pontianak sent us off in fine style with boxes of Bingka, a custard/egg local specialty (it was delicious) and a skater t-shirt for me. Irena said it best, “we couldn’t have been more welcome than we were in Pontianak”.

And so it was in our first stop in Indonesia. I will confess to some trepidation making our way up the river of this most populous nation, past industrial grime, hazy airs, and then, the shanties perched along the river bank on stilts, people washing their clothes in a river so muddy at least, I was reluctant to step in. But as we motored up the river past the town center in search of the dock to check in with officials, we were taken in hand by two friendly chaps from the local coast guard who guided us in, helped us anchor, took us ashore, bought us coffee, told us of their families, showed us where Immigration, Customs and the Harbour Master hung their hats and then waved from the coffee shop each time we passed to and fro all morning long. From the moment we stepped ashore, there was friendliness, generosity, and curiosity. I will leave Rita to tell the tale of Iqbal and his friends, but for my part, let me say thank you for the t-shirt Reddy, and thank you Iqbal for your hospitality, friendship and help shopping for boat bits.
Ah yes, sailing and boat bits. It was a fair bash south from Kuching to Pontianak- 250 miles upwind against a full SE, S, SE Monsoon. But I must say I am over the moon with our capacity to sail upwind. Full genoa to 20 knots apparent, down to staysail after that, we made our way windward, tacking through less than 90 degrees at about 6.5 knots against good sized seas. The rig and new sails working without fault. I was concerned however coming up the river to see our engine losing power, but after four hours sweating in the engine room this proved to be the fault of dirty fuel plugging filters (fuel acquired in Tioman, Malaysia)} . Now outbound, with a box full of new Racor filters found on a dusty shelf in Pontianak, we hope to get through the remaining Malaysian fuel. I have no more replacements for the engine fuel filter, fingers crossed, because the Racor filters are only 30 microns. The last filter we replaced was BLACK. While in Pontianak, Dennis took the Bimini in hand, lowering it to avoid the mainsheet bash. Rita sewed hatch covers for the two forward Lewmar hatches, hoping to keep the saltwater out. Irena cleaned up after 4 days of upwind sailing, got the laundry done (what a hero!) and everyone pitched in with new provisioning.

Last night we had a bit of a scare. We left Pontianak town to motor down the river to a quieter place to anchor for a last night’s sleep before heading seaward to resume the southbound bash, when out of the dark came a very small high speed runabout full of 5 men shouting. They circled at high speed a couple of times, then came directly alongside as if to board (without invitation as you can imagine!). Things peaked with me standing at the rail shouting “No, No, No” and motioning them off, but on they came. Turns out they were the auxiliary coast guard, who were very apologetic when they saw what a fright they had given us. We explained who we were and what we were up to and then they roared off like the key stone cops, climbing on top of one another, hitting something in the water that stopped them, bringing the whole show to an eerie quiet. With a restart, the comedy continued, as they disappeared back into the dark. They were back just after midnight, but came more slowly, circled at a distance, and went off in a more leisurely pace. In the end, I was just as glad to have them out there patrolling, but gosh, I wish they didn’t approach like bandits!

Dennis: After arriving at Kuching, I still was saddened by the lack of care for the ocean and rivers. While in anchorage at the lovely marina that was brand new, the junk in the river was awful. Absolutely everything was in the water floating by. They have to start recycling here. After leaving Kuching and sailing in less than ideal conditions for 3 days we arrived at the mouth of the Kapuas River, dropped anchor and spent a very relaxing quiet evening listening to the birds on the shore. The first thing I noticed was the lack of plastic junk in the river and as we went up to Pontianak, no junk except branches from trees. Even with all the freighter traffic (and there was lots), the river was clean. We later learned from one of our new founds friends (Iqbal) that the country has a recycling program and that one of his friends has become very rich in the recycling program. We noticed little row boats combing the water’s edge for plastic and cans. The river still has some plastic bags that need recycling but I think the main culprits are the crews of the freighter whom I watched throwing stuff overboard like they do at sea. Rivers here are really quite muddy looking but are probably very fertile along the deltas where all the people live.

Rita: What an unexpected gem Pontianak turned out to be. We stopped to check in, provision and do laundry. Arriving on Sunday, not much was open. However, while Cress & Irena were in the Kartika Hotel lobby trying to get their internet to work they met a lovely young man named Iqbal. As it happens, Iqbal is a photographer & he showed Cress & Irena some recent photos on his camera. Imagine their surprise when Cress & Irena saw a photo of Conversations (anchored just in front of the hotel); Iqbal was equally delighted to meet the owners of this beautiful boat. He chatted with us at length and gave us all kinds of information and tips, AND he speaks excellent English (rare in this town). We arranged to meet him and several of his friends the next evening. What started out as “We’ll show you a good restaurant to get traditional Indonesian food” ended up being an entire afternoon and evening spent with 4 lovely young men – Iqbal (27 yrs) –‘ guide and translator, To-il (22yrs) skilled and fearless driver, Komang (23 yrs), guitarist and photographer, brother to To-il and business partner to Iqbal, and Reddy (19 yrs) who owns his own business selling and servicing skateboards, and is also a tattoo artist.
After running us around to do errands, they took us to the Equator monument and the Istana Kadriyah –- the ironwood palace constructed in 1771 for Pontianak‘s first sultan. They then took us to a bustling traditional open air market. There was stall after stall of all kinds of produce and some fish. We had so much fun buying our provisions – and Iqbal acted as our middleman. After dinner at a lovely restaurant, we all came back to the boat. We sat around listening to their music and drinking “American Iced tea” (a term Iqbal coined for beer).

The next day (Tuesday) was a big day for them. Every June 21, skateboarders from all over Indonesia come to Pontianak to celebrate boarding. Our 4 new friends were all planning to take part. Even with that big event taking place, they found time to meet us for lunch –- and brought us some wonderful Bingka – a delicious (enak) traditional baked custard that is available only in Pontianak. AlaMA! (Wow!) It was yummy! And can you imagine?? These 4 young men even invited us (4 middle-aged tourists) to their party that evening. Lucky for them we had to leave ! , but not before Iqbal took Cress around on his motorbike to hunt down some special oil filters he needed for the boat.

Iqbal, To-il, Komang, and Reddy – Terima kasih!! You made our visit to your beautiful city so special. YOU are so SPECIAL!! Keep safe and happy, and we hope you can make it to Canada someday! We would love the opportunity to welcome you to our home and show you around. And we would just love to be able to meet again someday in this wondrous world of ours.

Irena: What more can I say? This place was our diamond in the rough, a very special treat after a few days of rough and tumble seas. We can only hope that somewhere in Canada, a few Indonesians are being welcomed in the same way that we were. This is why we love travelling in our unique way on ‘Conversations’. Cruisers are rare here in Pontianak, so we were somewhat treated as celebrities here. On the streets people would shout –‘Hello!!! How are you!!‘ – basically any English they knew!! It got to the point that when someone would shout –‘ whats your name‘ – I would reply –‘Joan Wilder‘ (I am sure some of you will get that).
And so, we are now set to make our way down the coast to Kumai perhaps stopping to snorkel at some islands along the way. Until then……
The Captain, First Mate and Good Crew of Conversations bid you farewell

On our way to Indonesia via Malaysia??

2011-06-13T20:30:00.001-07:00

Greetings me hearties!

We rest t’day at the fair docks of

Kuching, 10 miles up the Sungai Serawak, a river of Borneo remembered for its head hunters of yesteryear (we hope) and Proboscis monkeys (Jimmy Durante eat your heart out). Let our dear friends Dennis and Rita (we are four aboard S.V Conversations these days ) tell the tales of hardship in the city, of broken gear, and fast passages on the South China Sea during the high season of the SW monsoon.

Dennis: After spending 5 wonderful days exploring Singapore and all its sites, eateries and getting spoiled in a 5-star hotel arranged by Irena we were able to get out to the sailboat and ready ourselves for our journey. In fact, Irena and Cress being the great hosts they are, left us with their room at the Marina Bay Sands Hotel. The hotel came complete with a 150m swimming pool atop of the three tower 57 story structure. They went to the boat for the weekend to start cleaning and provisioning it. Rita and I went to the boat on Tues night with a taxi full of food for the trip. As we were anxious to get sailing, we decided to forego getting propane for one of the tanks as it would take 2 days to refill it -- bad decision). Once underway we were surprised to see the sharp contrast between the very clean city and the absolutely filthy harbour. With up to 1000 freighters in anchorage at one time and the crews having no regard for disposal of waste, there was crap floating all over the place.

There were no birds or marine life anywhere. In fact the whole of the South China Sea has little marine life as opposed to the abundance we saw on our first passage across the South Pacific. Otherwise our sail has been very pleasant.

Rita: Ahh…to be on the ocean again!! But all is not to be smooth sailing!

Before we even got away from Singapore, Rita broke the chain in the steering column. That’s right, the chain!! (think we have a candidate for strong lady in the next circus). Out came the emergency tiller as we made our way to a grubby looking fuel boat, then off to anchor at a “small island”.

First job next day was for Cress and Dennis to fix the steering. Success! (much to Rita’s relief) Now we are really on our way. We sailed all night, through tons of freighter traffic, and reached Pulau Aur (80 mi. from mainland Malaysia), greeted by a fabulous sunrise. There are several resorts lining the shore, but it is mostly quiet and the landscape is breathtaking. The water is so clear that we can see the fish, just off the sides of the boat. We had several fun excursions snorkeling; our first day we saw a sea turtle. Unfortunately on one of our trips away from the boat we left all the hatches open and YUP!! We got a tropical downpour!! After scooping up coconuts on our way back we had to mop up and try to dry out – cushions, rugs, bedding. Aside from the inconvenience, it was nice to feel cool. We had a couple of days of unsettled weather so we finally sailed in the pouring rain to Pulau Tioman, but not before Cress & Dennis had to spend several hours repairing the throttle which had got stuck in reverse!! We anchored in a lovely bay on Tioman. There are lots of resorts, a golf course, and a commuter ferry, but the water is clear and the landscape is lush. There are trees full of ripening mangos, jackfruit, and bats by the scores!

NOW WHERE IS THAT RUNWAY AGAIN????

By June 6^th, we were anchored near the marina, which was full, as we watched several Dash-8’s land and take off from the narrow, short runway in the trees. Irena is arriving on one of those??? But she made it!! A happy reunion and a fun evening.

The next day was another adventure as Dennis & Rita made their way by ferry over to Mersing in search of propane. No luck!! However, Cress, with the help of the local marina, cobbled together some system whereby he was able to fill our tanks with butane. So we can cook (and eat!!)

We sailed 3 days and 3 nights to Kuching on the Malaysian side of Borneo. Arriving at night, we anchored off shore. In the morning we went in search of the “marina at the mouth of the Santubong River”. Either we misinterpreted the guidebook or it was mistaken. The only dock there is private and we couldn’t tie up there. So off we went to Pulau Lakei. Slow going at first due to lack of wind, but we made it. We anchored in a beautiful bay, just at the foot of Bako National Park.

There is a huge pile of boulders that looks like a male figure – a guardian on the point between the park and Pulau Lakei. The waters are calm, the terrain rugged – much like the coast of BC. We spent a serene evening there, with the songs of the birds and other night creatures to lull us to sleep.

Irena: Well I think I have finally shaken off the work ‘buzz’ and have managed to slow my pace down to almost the rate of the local Malaysians (can’t quite get myself into that slow amble). I cannot imagine what it is like for the women here to be fully clothed complete with headscarf AT ALL TIMES when outdoors. Being a predominantly Muslim country, these are the ‘rules’ (I am quite certain these must have been made up by men!). In any case, we are at a small marina for a few days, so the air conditioners are going at full tilt while we are one board. Tomorrow we are going for a hike into Bako National Park to see what wildlife we can and get a taste of the jungle, that we can’t really get from the anchorages and seaside. Then we will start making our way into Indonesia since our cruising permit has finally arrived.

Cooking with Dennis and Rita on board has been a wonderful treat. Waking up to freshly baked scones and bread is the most amazing thing. In fact Dennis and Rita are in town as I write to pick up some local produce for the next part of our journey. We will have email access for the next couple of days, so please drop us a line – we would love to hear from you!

That’s it for this installment. Drop us an email or comment on the blog, we miss you all and would love to hear from you. Cresswell(at)sail7cs.com.

The Cow

2011-05-16T18:42:00.000-07:00

“It looks like a cow” says Irena, as I wrestled the sticky epoxy resin and matt onto the Styrofoam block. And indeed it did, but it wasn’t supposed to!

We were bent together over our temporary work table on the aft deck. I was trying unsuccessfully not to sweat into the pot of rapidly curing epoxy resin while laying fibreglass on a mould that was to be a homemade waterlock muffler for the new engine we had just installed. The idea of the technique I was using was to build a mold for the muffler out of Styrofoam, lay fibreglass in epoxy resin on the outside as a skin, and then later melt out the foam interior with gasoline. This was the second attempt. The first attempt, using polyester resin, has been a total failure when the resin dissolved the Styrofoam right through a protective layer of plastic film. The first attempted ended as a sticky lump of raw fibresglass/matt on the workbench beside a vastly mis-shappen foam mold. It looked like the second attempt was going to end the same way.

“Abort?” asked Irena, “Should we bail and save the mold?” It was clear the epoxy resin was dissolving the foam too, but less aggressively than the polyester resin had. But my carefully built mold was nevertheless melting away faster than I could apply the sticky mix of epoxy and fibreglass matt. Though it was still square-ish in shape, the surface of the foam block was shrinking away in uneven lumps and hollows. The sagging layers of uncured epoxy fibreglass hung like folds of excess skin on a barnyard animal. Even though we had again applied new layers of protective film, I guessed the mold was being attacked by some sort of solvent in the epoxy. We gave up. We abandoned it where it stood on the work bench, leaving the curing epoxy skin to cure on the mold, thinking this grotesque piece could still find a life as a living room ornament or something.

“We’ll give it a go again tomorrow, shall we?” Irena asked with way more optimism than I felt. “Okay”, I said out loud, thinking what a goof I am. So much for being the expert! Earlier I had been seeking to impress Irena with my knowledge of the technique for building fibreglass tanks for airplanes, but clearly I was no expert. I was also pretty discouraged. Not surprisingly then, next day, we didn’t go back to another attempt on the “cow” as we had ruefully begun to call our accidental sculpture. Instead I fought the fight for a new waterlock in the land of ‘fucknowlogy’ – the internet. My attempts to order a commercially made waterlock failed in a death struggle with the usual ill performing web platforms of crashing shopping carts and last minute apologies - after filling out pages of forms - “sorry we don’t deliver outside the USA.” And online waterlock mufflers were more expensive than the Queen’s jewels.

In the interim Irena had left me for her grandchildren in Canada, so I decided instead to move on to other things for a few days, like working to see just exactly how many more very cold beers I had in store. As is my bent, when things stop working, sometimes, so do I. Though I am often pleasantly surprised by how life propitiously offers salvation to my woes, this time, time passed slowly in the heat of Malaysia’s perpetual summer days.

All this time, the cow remained solidly atop the work bench, particularly because it was so thoroughly glued in place. Its two upward standing sections of 3 ½ inch fibreglass pipe were, I thought, reminiscent of a pair of splayed, blunt horns, and its square sides low to the table seemed like an animal about to charge. Nightly, over gin and tonics, I stared at it and it stared back, definantly. It seemed to be daring me, as if in a challenge of wills. Finally, one evening I wrestled it from the workbench and carried it roughly below. I shoved it into the engine compartment in the place where a more proper waterlock muffler might have sat. “Not bad” I reflected aloud “It’s actually a better size now, being smaller.” Its shrinking ways had made it a better fit around the various cables and hoses it had to dodge. The fibreglass pipes are no longer perfectly aligned, but, what the heck, that’s why we put the exhaust system together with flexible rubber hose. As for its wrinkles and folds, well.... look at me!

Next day, when nobody was about on the docks to mock us, I finished the layup with four more layers of cloth, and waited impatiently for her to cure. Then, with a bit of sand paper and white paint, her curves started to come out. I was getting a bit carried away, but I couldn’t resist painting on some black splotches. I put her away out of sight of prying eyes and went back to the challenge of sourcing hose, stainless steel fittings and other bits and bobs to finish the giant exhaust system.

Nearly a month went by. I found, bought and wrestled 34 feet of 3 ½ inch exhaust hose into the dark nether world of the boat’s bilge. I had shoved straight sections of fibreglass pipe into blind holes and built 65 degree elbows to negotiate impossible corners. For weeks I had begged the local Malaysian welding shop to finally build me an exhaust stern fitting and then managed to install it without dropping it in the sea even once, while hanging upside down from the swim grid, my forehead bobbing in and out of the harbour swill. Finally, one day, after tightening down the last of a bushel basket of hose clamps, I turned the starter key, held my breath and waited. The engine idled nicely, good news, but still I waited for the “bang” of an exploding exhaust gas muffler. But none came. Water started to flow in round spurts out the exhaust fitting, and I allowed myself a moment of hope. I rushed down below, tore open the engine room door and switched on the light. And there, in the shadow of the ticking Yanmar diesel, sat my darling waterlock muffler, her sides puffing easily, as she pushed out gallons of cooling water and clean exhaust gas. “Well I’ll be damned” I thought out loud, “I guess I’m more twisted than I thought.”

Coming on Board

2011-05-13T21:01:00.000-07:00

May 14, the deed is done. The new diesel engine is happily installed and we are sitting in Singapore now after sailing and motoring our way here last week from Langkwai.

I learned from the struggle. First, as I get older (56 yesterday), the task of working upside down in the bilge seems to hurt more! Second, for all the sweat in my eyes, dirt under my fingernails and boat bites up to my arm pits, its was still worth it to do it myself. It was a lot of work, but it was actually simpler than I had imagined. Now, nothing, simply nothing, gives me more satisfaction these days than to turn the key, watch the instruments jump to attention and hear the hum of the Yanmar 75 hp come to life. The hardest part? Building a four inch exhaust system 34 feet long for the new engine and finding a place to put it. It was like trying to shove a live python down a hole. Second hardest part? Giving away the old engine. Nobody wanted the old girl, including the marina manager who had reluctantly agreed to store it temporarily.

End of an era coming for us. Next month we are bound for Indonesia and South Africa. After 5 years in Singapore, how does that feel? The boat's ready, but are we? Stay tuned!

2011-03-19T10:50:00.000-07:00

New Engine Going in

Cut, bruised and stiff, Irena and I celebrate the end of an era. It was a struggle, but we prevailed over our tired old Perkins Prima 50 HP diesel. Yesterday, dripping coolant, oil and fuel, (the Prima that is) we wrestled her from engine room and dragged her on a skid kicking and screaming into the saloon. Tonight, all 300 kgs of her smelly presence reminds me our new Yanmar Diesel is waiting no more than a 100 meters away. Thank Miss Prima but good bye. 75HP here we come! We will get some serious speed on now under power.

2011-03-19T09:56:00.000-07:00

Tarps, tarps, tarps.

I suppose my ambivalence about tarps has its origins in the family vacation of 1962. I was 7 the year we embarked on a vacation so ambitious I would never undertake it, even if I had had a choice, which of course then, I did not. July, and summer family vacation time came, so off we went to circumnavigate the Great Lakes by Volkswagen!

Now we were a picture. We were a family of four in the car and we carried the family canoe on the roof and of course we dragged along all our considerable camping gear under a tarp in a laden utility trailer. For those of you more than 30 years old, you will remember the Volkswagen car from those days as the cramped affairs they were, pushed along by a pathetic, inadequate, air-cooled engine bellowing away from some dark place under car’s rear end. Later, as an adult, I understood from my father’s recounting of the tale the Volkswagen was never again the same and neither was I. Those hills north of Lake Superior were murder and I was a complete shit the whole trip. I think Dad still feels guilty about selling the car that fall, and I still feel guilty about my attitude that summer.

But I suppose I should give myself a break. Riding in the back seat of a Volkswagen for four weeks with a three year old brother is no holiday in any condition. My brother was a sweet kid, and is today a sweet man despite the venom I visited upon him those endless hours droning along, the heat from the struggling engine making the back too hot to sit on. I survived the long hours laying in whatever space I could steal from him, eyes closed, day dreaming the day away. But worst of all was making camp every single, bloody night. At the end of each insufferable day on the road, we hunted down a camping spot, pitched two tents, dug trenches around each tent, set up the camp kitchen, and strung tarps everywhere. My job, after I blew up four air mattresses, was to hold this corner or that of the hated canvas, while Dad danced around the tangle of lines looking for the elusive ‘sky hook’. You see the tents leaked, and we had no modern caravan trailer to cook or sleep in. The tarps made it habitable, but Jesus, what an endless process making, then breaking, camp each day.

Fast forward 2011. Here I float on our boat on the other side of the world – in Malaysia – with a sun downer gin and tonic in hand, taking in the sun just before she sets. The monkeys and end of the day bird calls are just starting up in the jungle around the marina, and the sky is taking on a deep orange light. Swifts bomb the surface of the water around the boat I am sitting under the dry, cool of the ships boat cover, surveying my little kingdom. It’s the beginning of the monsoon, unbearably hot when the sun steams up the world between the many rain showers. Around me in the dusky light, I see the tools and dust everywhere form a week’s labour on the aft deck, sanding and varnishing the 26 floor boards hauled up from below. Then POW! Just as the sun touches the horizon it in dawns on me: With a laugh, I see the circle closing. This day, this moment in this magical kingdom, is possible because of the ships cover and of course the ships cover is just a bloody .....tarp!

I miss my family -- my Mom, my Dad and my brother. But the tarps that keep me cool and dry connect me to them across the miles, the years and the memories.

Let the adventure continue!

2011-03-13T05:14:00.000-07:00

It has been quite a while since we have posted to this blog - and after 5 years of working in SE Asia we are getting ready top set sail once again. A new boat, a new set of destinations and a whole lot of unknowns lay before us. We invite you once again to follow along.

Knock knock.....

This is the sound of opportunity calling again! SV Conversations is setting sail on its next leg of a round the world sail. On May 1, 2011, we are sailing from Malaysia to South Africa, and we want to share this experience and adventure.

It seems like years since our last offshore passage adventure bringing SV Conversations from San Francisco to Singapore. For those of you that missed it, we sailed:

SF to Hawaii – 15 days, with 7 on board
Hawaii to Fiji – 22 days with 5 on board
Fiji to Vanuatu – 8 days with 6 on board
Vanuatu to Darwin – 14 days with 6 on board
Darwin to Bali – 10 days with 5 on board
Bali to Langkawi – 18 days with one on board (Cresswell)
Langkawi to Singapore – 5 days with 5 on board

That’s a total of 92 sea days! Along the way, we had novice and expert, young and old, adventurous and relaxed. We made new friends and confirmed old, found new ways to embrace living in this magic kingdom, and re-discovered what is important in our lives. Now, after five years living and working in Singapore, it’s time to do it again!

On May 1st, our route from Langkawi Malaysia, will take us south to Singapore, Indonesia and into the SE tradewinds between the Islands of Java and Sumatra, then west to Cocos Keeling, Mauritius, Durban and finally, around the Cape of Good Hope to Cape Town, South Africa – arriving January 2012. Potential jumping on/off spots along the way include Kuala Lumpur (Langkawi), Singapore, Jakarta, Borneo, Cocos Keeling, Mauritius, maybe Madagascar, Richards Bay, and Durban (South Africa).

Is that cool or cool!? If the names of the places we are visiting conjure images of an exotic adventure; if you see yourself sailing a tropical downwind trade passage with day after day after day of sun on your face and wind at your back; then join us! You will only need to cover your airfare and we would ask you to share living expenses (food, laundry, etc.) and fuel, berthing and other minor costs related to the trip (but not maintenance and operation of the boat herself which we will cover).

Now before this email starts to sound too much like an advertisement for Club Med, how about a reality check. The reality of offshore sailing is different from what is presented in the media, but it is a profoundly powerful experience and environment. To go to sea in a sailboat changes us. So chances like this are important AND they are rare.

Ask yourself these two questions “Am I called to risk stepping beyond the bounds of my current life to try something new and un-common?” “Do I now have the Courage, Capacity, and Captaincy, to be able to make THE CHOICE to go?` Likely, in choosing to go, you will face a parade of sensible reasons the rational, mortgage bound, working world will throw at you as perfectly good (but limiting) reasons why you should give this a pass too. If ‘Life is a voyage we live but once’ it seems tragic to stay tied to the dock (the job, the house, the dog) and pass up opportunities and adventures that come our way. If not now - when?

We would like to add another dimension to this offer: if you have someone in your life you want to mentor in a life changing experience, think about sponsoring their participation. Help us share this experience with those who will get the most from it, especially people just starting out, people in transition or others less advantaged.

So that’s the deal. Go ahead, ‘make your life!’ Email us, let us know what part you are interested in. If you are new to us, and want to know more, see http://sail7cs.com/ .

Please circulate this email liberally, and broadly to your network contacts, family and friends. We look forward to hearing from you soon.

Cheers
Cress and Irena

May 16, Day 17, Its a long way from Bali to Langkawi!

2009-05-16T16:35:00.000-07:00

You know, its a long way from Bali to Langkawi. 2300 NM if you go the long way by wind.

As I contemplate covering the last 80 miles tonight into the port of Kuah on the island of Langkwai, I realize these are the closing hours in more than a single passage. Sometime early tomorrow morning, maybe even in the waning moonlit hours of pre-dawn, I will see the first land I have seen since Bali dipped below the horizon 18 days ago. What does it mean to come all this way from Bali alone, and to come all this way with Conversations our new boat from San Francisco?

Well, for sure, arriving in Langkwai is a 'coming home'. Seems strange to say it, but this part of SE Asia, now does feel like home. For the last 3 years I have sailed up and down this coast between Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand half a dozen times in other peoples boats, for fun and for pay, but now, its satisfying to arrive in my own creature.

It is also a coming home, as in the completion of a project. Its a project that started in San Francisco a year ago. It was last May when we did our pre purchase inspection of the boat, and since then I have slaved away on our project and boat preparing her and maintaining her over these many sea miles. Since that time, I have sailed Conversations over 12,000 NM to get her home and I have spent 87 days at sea doing it. I have loved the sailing, and on this last leg in particular as my first single handed passage, I have learned a lot about what it takes out here. But what I value the most are my memories of the people that have been a part of this project. Along the way, I have had some deeply fulfilling time with family and friends and met some great new people as crew, and I have had on this last passage, some time to get to know me a little better too! I even had my 54th birthday at sea on this last passage. As for Irena and I, even though she has only sailed a part of this journey in person, she has sailed every inch of it in spirit with me. Its is a long way from Bali to Langkawi, even further from San Francisco, but of course, its about the journey.

If I did not have to stay awake half the night looking after ship, I would have a little celebration. I will save that for tomorrow!

This is likely to be my last post for this trip. But come back soon, I have some other things planned.
Cresswell

(no subject)

2009-05-15T02:45:00.000-07:00

Safely around the corner (NW tip of Sumatra) and headed more or less straight for Langkawi which is 240 miles away on the GPS. Its raining off and on and off and on, but the winds have backed off, so the squalls aren't lashing me the way they were. And it is nice and cool, in fact, pleasant. I hope there is enough wind, but I have lots of fuel to burn if I have to motor.

Lots of traffic last night as I went around the corner, but the AIS worked most of the time. When it was working, it was like parting the waters. All the traffic, because they knew what I was (sail boat with right of way), where I was, in what direction I was steering and how fast, I could see on the map view of all the ships (up to 12 at one point) simply plotted their course to go around me. When you look at the traffic on the screen and how they move, its like a dance floor in slow motion. Or motor cycle traffic in Viet Nam - as long as no one does anything too hastily, everything flows. It made it easy. With that much traffic, these guys (and gals - spoke to one on the radio) were on their toes and they are good.

Later that afternoon....
Around noon, we darted out of the way of the last of the squalls, and the wind filled in from the West and out came the sunshine. Turned into lovely downwind sailing day! With any luck, I'll see land for the first time in 18 days, day after tomorrow!
TTFN

Now this is more like sailing!

2009-05-14T02:23:00.000-07:00

Breaking gear, ripping sails, and starting to believe I am not alone onboard - I must be single handed sailing!

I have lost track of time since I last posted. Its now Wednesday May 14, because my watch says so. I am just turning over the north tip of Sumatra in the company of -- count them - nine tankers, according to my AIS, which, incidentally started working again when the storm clouds cleared.

Last night I fell asleep in the cockpit to be rudely awakened again by the fury of my boat charging off into the dark under the lash of a another squall. In fact, for the last two days, every time I fall asleep, I am so sleep deprived, it is the sound of wind howling in the rigging and my boat out of control that wakes me. This is rude. I am now afraid to go to sleep, but of course I must, and when I do, I have this waking up experience. You can see my problem!

It caught up with me last night when I woke inside another squall and failed to get the mainsail down quickly enough. With a POW, it blew open from the front to the back, and left me to drag down the flailing tatters. I have a rather foreshortened version back up flying today, but that is okay because it is all I should have had up in the first place. In fact, I have given up on full sail, and am content to barely move, while I wait for the next blow.

So, I have found the weather to be seriously challenging. I guess, if one goes sailing in the monsoons, one should expect a fair bit of rain, but this is more than I bargained for. And wind! Yikes. For the last two or three days (I have lost track), it has been solidly overcast with storm cells embedded in the cloud layers. About every two hours or so there is another rip snort- en brother along to lay down upon me and smite me and my little boat. Winds go from less than 10 knots to 30 and 40 knots and sometimes stay there for 10 minutes but once it blew like that for over an hour - just long enough for me to get my storm jib out of the garage and get it flying. And rain. It rains so hard, it hurts to look. So trying to get sail up to keep the boat moving one minute, and trying to get sails down to keep ourselves afloat the next leaves not much time for beauty sleep.

And that is all I have gas for today!
C

Tuesday May 12....drifting along, singing a song, all by myself.....

2009-05-13T01:06:00.001-07:00

Light winds, like teenage love, are fickle. They go, they stop, they blow this way, they blow that way, and then they don't blow at all. The sails go fwack fwack fwack. And Cress goes F...F...F.... And every few hours a squall drifts by, the winds go crazy for an hour, die completely, and then gradually come back. Here, the winds suck, not blow. Just like teenage love. Its very trying man. But fickle or otherwise, I am never-the-less making sure, but slow progress.

I have six days before I am meeting my party in Langkawi on May 19. I have 628 miles to go as of now (Tuesday morning), of which at least half of that will be against a .5 knot current. I need to cover at least 100 miles a day, if I am going to be there the day they arrive. I have about 2/3 of my fuel left. And, the winds are projected to remain light (and fickle). I can make it, but I have had to resign myself to the fact I will need to just slow down and accept it will take all six days to arrive unless there is a lot more wind than forecast.

So I will just kind of nurse her along, trying to be patient. If I can keep her up to 4.10 sog under sail, I just sail, if I can't, I motor sail. Like teenage love, it doesn't seem to get you anywhere, but eventually something becomes of it.

(no subject)

2009-05-13T01:06:00.000-07:00

Last night a front moved in and she started to blow about 20 knots. One by one, the stars all went out and it got pretty dark. Every hour or two an embedded storm system came through with driving torrential rains and gusts to 30 knots. I spent the whole night with a double reefed main and the genoa unfurled between squalls, trying to get her furled before the winds started to huff and puff. Twice I got caught napping, being waken by the boat taking off like a wild horse with the radar alarm going bleep, bleep, bleep. The last time, I got an override on the retrieve line winch and had to sweat it in by hand, with that thunderous sound of a #1 genoa flogging in 30 knots. Not too swift Poindexter. After that I decided the genoa would stay furled till dawn, and I finally got some sleep.

I spend more time fiddling with the electronics on board than I do sailing the boat. This morning the Automatic Identification System is acting up. Yesterday it was the computer/modem/email system. But I must say, the new TMQ autopilot is doing yeoman's service. Touch wood. I punch in a course, she takes a couple of minutes to learn how to steer it with the least movement of the helm, and then she quietly does her work. Impressive. Without her, it would be tough. The Hydrovane steering is not working - I am certain the shaft is bent again. I emailed the manufacturer last week, and have not heard back.

Day 13 and we are sailing again

2009-05-11T01:16:00.000-07:00

Position N00 37 E 091 53 Course 000 SOG 4.0

At the risk of jinxing the venture, after 40 hours of motoring, I can again hear the happy gurgle of water along the hull passing the nav station where I sit to write this. Yes folks, we are sailing and the iron genoa has been stowed.

Today,the 11th of May, we crossed the equator, northbound. And, even better news,
the wind has come in, albeit gently at less than 8 knots from the WSW. This is the edge of the Indian Ocean monsoon I had been looking for as a signal I am through the ITCZ and 'out the other side' ya hoo! I don't expect the monsoon to be as reliable or as strong as the SE trade winds, but they do offer the hope of wind and a downwind sail the last 700 miles or so to Langkawai.

Today is laundry and cleaning day. I washed all 13 days worth of laundry - two pairs of shorts and a hat. The hat was by far the worst because I wear it. The shorts I don't bother with much. I also cleaned out the fridge bottom. This is especially important as it contains all my open food, and when not normally refrigerated it gets, well, nasty.

Its hot out here folks, damn hot!

And as I write this, the wind is dying.... whimper... whimper.....

Droning along....

2009-05-10T18:03:00.000-07:00

We are now just 4 hours short of motoring for a full 24 hours and no wind in sight. With no wind, the fluffy white clouds rise straight up from the glassy surface of the aquamarine water. Its rather fun, watching them grow and morph. Like a kid, I find myself laughing at the caricatures of people I know showing up in their profiles. It's so quiet, it would be perfect water skiing weather if I could get going fast enough under power! It would be fun too, skiing in and around the great big oily swells coming up from the SE. In the quiet, even the birds are resting - too much work to fly without the wind to give them lift on the waves.

And I am resting too. There is nothing much for me to do. With no wind, there isn't much to look at other than the clouds. The weather is completely settled, not even much squall activity about, certainly nothing I have to dodge. And, as for the boat, she is looking after herself. She steers herself. The boat's diesel is happy to run hour after hour after hour. The boat doesn't wake me up for any sail changes. The boat even pretty much navigates herself with GPS. Yup, its just about perfect. I even have the fridge running with all this excess electricity lying about, so I have cold, very, very cold beer. Now all I need is to find a way to have the boat cook and clean up after me, then I would be in heaven.

Really, the only thing I have to do is worry about having enough fuel. Which I don't, of course. I have enough fuel to motor about another 400 miles, and its still almost 800 miles to port. But I can't imagine not having any wind between here and Langkawi. The wind will pick up. Patience has never been a strong suite of mine. In the mean time I guess I'll just have to lie down some more. Saving my energy you see.

Post or no post, I must blog!

2009-05-09T00:33:00.000-07:00

Ah me, it was a tough day yesterday. A bunch of things went wrong.

No email - something is wrong, either on board with my equipment, or with the one station I can reach. It seems not to be answering my calls. I don't know which it is, but I have decided I will write my blog and send it whenever I can.

No cruisers net - haven't been able to contact th SE Asia Net.

My propane solenoid went south in a puff of smoke yesterday noon. No spare on board and no gas plumbing supplies, so I drilled a hole through the gate in the burned out solenoid and reinstalled it. This will allow gas to the stove, but it means a tedious trip to the aft propane locker to turn the gas on and off.

The push switch in the aft head shower sump died. I ended bailing out the sump by hand, cursing. No more showers there until I fix that puppy. Oh well.

And of course, the wind has retreated. For the last 24 hours or so I have been reduced to sailing on whatever zephyrs come my way. When I do get moving air, it is either a trade wind residual or squall blast. The wind, when comes, and in all velocities, from all directions on the eastern half of the compass, from N, NE, E SE, S. This is what it is like in the twilight zone, errr, the Intertropical Convergence Zone, out of the tradewinds. In the last 24 hours, I have done more sail handling than since I left on this passage, but made less than a 100 miles in the last 24 hours. But, I have to remind myself, I am still sailing, not motoring, and 100 miles a day was my average in the last boat! So stop whining already!

Its all about expectations, isn't it? If I shift what I expect, I shift my context. If I shift my context, then I shift how I feel about it. Context is king, as my coach colleague Bill is fond of saying (How, by the way, are you Bill?)

Speaking of context, you know, its so damn hot, I am going to sneak on the fridge when nobody's looking and cool down a few of those Bali Beers, and damn the electricity dicks!

(no subject)

2009-05-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

The most exciting thing that has happened to me in the last 24 hours, is sleeping in.
This morning, the sun was up when I came to in the cockpit. I could hardly believe it. When I opened my eyes, looked up, and felt my body, I thought I must be in heaven, because it was the best I have felt in days. Sleep is under rated!

I am sailing north west now, away from the heart of the trade winds, and I hate to say it, toward the DOLDRUMS! You know the place. The place of no wind, thunderstorms and sweating crew under the merciless tropical sun. And things are already starting to get hotter as the winds back off to about 10 knots. The boat is slowing, and the cabin is a furnace during the heat of the day without the trade winds blowing though it. It could be a long way to the other side of the DOLDRUMS, where I expect to pick up the Westerly monsoons of the Indian Ocean. It could be 500 miles, it could be 200 miles, or I could get lucky and find the DOLDRUMS going south, when I am going north and maybe I'll hardly ever be out of wind. The suspense is killing me, and I am totally obsessing about it. Truth be told, I am more afraid of two or three or four days sitting around becalmed than I am of the same number of days of stormy weather. Sitting around waiting for wind is agony for me. The only other thing that bothers me more is the thought of burning $400 worth of diesel to motor through it - I am such a tight wad!~

Oh well get over it. I guess, I'll go on deck and chase the birds off the solar panels, bloody free loaders. Its not the free ride that bothers, its the deposits that drive me crazy! On deck, bird poop is like greased lightening. Between that and the carcasses of flying fish I have to watch where I put my feet down. I guess I could get out the scrub brush....... naw... too damn hot.

Position as of 1545 local time S 05 degrees, 36 mins. E 095 degrees, 39 mins. About 1200 miles done, about 1200 miles more to go!

One Week at Noon Today

2009-05-05T21:59:00.000-07:00

Counting myself blessed this morning. It is yet another beautiful, sunny day, sparkling waters and a following tradewind breeze of about 15 knots. Everything on the boat is working well enough. I managed to uncover my modem problem (fingers crossed, seems it needs its own independent power supply in addition to the feed it gets from the radio) and I slept well and deeply a couple of shifts last night. We are making about 8 knots through the water, against a .5 to 1 knot counter current. At this speed the boat bounces around a bit, but at least for sailing near dead down wind she is level and rolling only a little.

Today marks the end of my first week. I am feeling very at home, yet aware that my comfort and ease can quickly disappear with a change in the wind, an equipment failure or even a minor accident. When things go wrong on a boat, it usually happens very quickly, and often without much warning. So for now, I am vigilant, but also enjoying myself with reading, writing and fiddling with the boat. Enjoying it while it lasts.

What does with oneself 24 hours a day at sea on a solo passage? Well, a routine day shapes up something like this, although from my more general experience sailing, non-routine days can come back to back or weeks apart. Heavy weather, break-downs or whatever just totally hijack the day, but most days are fairly routine.

My day is tracked noon to noon, I guess as a reflection of the fact that this is the time of day of the traditional noon site, anchoring each day's celestial navigation. Thank goodness those days are gone with GPS So at noon I sit down here at the nav station, open the electronic charting and calculate the days run from the previous days noon site. Then I LOG the GPS position in the paper log so if I am struck by lightening and loose all these delicate electronics, I still have something to work with for finding my way ashore. But I do have no less than four GPS units on board. Two plug into the computer, one as a stand alone unit and the second built into the AIS (Automatic Identification System). A third is the nav station unit powered by the ships batteries and the fourth is a battery powered unit stowed in the abandon ship bag.

After that I usually make my biggest, and sometimes only meal, of the day. Its easiest to cook midday when it is daylight, but you know, when its just me, its too simple, so simple its a little embarrassing. Yesterday it was instant mashed potatoes, a gravy mix and a can of pre-cooked roast beef, for example. Next to that, the boxed wine is good. Then comes, of course, an afternoon nap, followed by ham radio work - usually a radio check in to a cruiser net, then a position update and another log entry. At dusk I do another email pickup which includes my scheduled weather grib files (wind and wave predictions) storm warnings and other advisories. Before dark, I go around the boat on deck checking the rigging, sails for chafe or damage, toss the flying fish back overboard (I hate stepping on them in my bare feet in the night) and just get things ready for 12 hours of sailing in the dark. I usually reduce sail a bit, so if a squall wakes me up, its not quite such a shit fight to get the boat back under control.

I usually sit on deck with a scotch and some tunes, play my drum, or just contemplate the day as the sun goes down. Best part of the day. Before it gets dark, I make up the cockpit for sleeping. Sometimes I'll read, do emails, it depends on my sleep quotient. Usually, I'll start the night routine with going to sleep until the boat wakes me up - not usually more than an hour or two. Then I have to do something - steer around a fish boat, change sails, close up the boat against the rain, get something to eat, reset sails and so on. Its amazing how just keeping the boat moving in the right direction with the right amount of sails takes more or less hourly attention, while sleeping around the events. It takes 10 hours to get 6 hours sleep. Before sunrise, I am usually so stiff from sleeping on the cockpit bench, I am waiting for the sun to rise so I can make my first cup of coffee to greet the day with. Nothing like it.

Morning, is kind of ridiculous, because its my most ambitious part of the day. I put on a bunch of sail if I can and tune the boat up for speed, fix anything broken from the night, and do another round of weather emails and log entry and navigation. If I am expecting compny, I'll have a salt water bucket shower on the aft deck. Soon its noon.

Inter dispersed with this at any time of the day and night, I will just plunk myself down - could be the bow, the aft deck, the cockpit, even a little way up the mast and I will just enjoy watching her sail through the waves. There is nothing quite like it. A sail boat is a simple machine, but it harness such power from the wind, no inboard motor would ever generate such energy, or do so with such finesse, balance and modesty. No smoke, no noise, no fuel to consume. Simple raw wind power. Leaving her to the hand of the windvane steering, I watch this harmony of design, materials and labour move so elegantly amongst the great rollers out here, I cannot help to feel in flow by association. As a machine, the boat is an extension of my knowledge and labours, and yet as my master out here, it commands my diligence and respect. This is such a big boat, I really need to stay ahead of her. I am merely the rider on the elephant! Master, yet mastered. Humbling, yet satisfying.

Flow is our ultimate reward for engaging the struggle and learning from the experience. When we grapple with forces bigger than us and engage them with earnest intent, we gain a modicum of mastery. Gradually, as we gather our experiences and forge our skills, we grow the depth of our competence and expand the challenge, never to achieve absolute mastery, but mastery of a sort none-the-less. By engaging the elephant,we discover our unique gifts, and through the cultivation of our gifts, build lives of passion. No challenge, no learning. No learning, no mastery. No mastery, no passion. No passion, no joy.
Cresswell

Day 6 is upon us

2009-05-05T00:53:00.000-07:00

The Trade winds took about 9 hours off yesterday and played silly bugger with me. I gybed the boat back and forth from side to side as the wind came in starts from this side and that until I had gybed five times. Each gybe takes about 20 minutes to complete single handed. Finally, just after midnight the SE trades returned and I have been in the clover ever since. Despite the slow down, I still covered 146 miles yesterday.
My position as of 1540 local time is S 07 02 E 099 47, sailing a heading of 280 magnetic at a speed of 6.5 to 7 knots. If you were to google earth that position you would see that I am about 150 miles off the south east extent of Sumatra, headed for India! Still waiting for today's weather files over the radio, but as of yesterday, I still need to sail about another 2 or 3 days west before turning north keeping the worst of the doldrums to my right (starboard) as I go north.
Not much to say today, except that I am running around the boat looking for things to fix - I am always rewarded. I must have made the adjustment to being here.
Cresswell

How is posting a blog at sea like eating an orange?

2009-05-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

How is posting a blog at sea like eating an orange?
Well, first I have to be inspired enough to get off the settee.
Second, I have to put my book down because it takes two hands to get to, and stay in, the swaying nav station and type.
Thirdly, and finally,its was a bit bitter at first when I bit into it, but when I begin to peel away the day and get inside, its all rather sweet and juicy.

Or so I hope, because I really have no idea what I am going to say today.

"Well, what's the juicy part?" I hear you asking.

Well, hmmm let me see. I know, I lost my voice. Its around here somewhere, the boat is only 48 feet long and like everything else that gets lost on board, sooner or later it is discovered. Its just gone into hiding for a day or two I think to punish me for what I did to it. Not that I have much use for it all by myself these days, but I was singing a bit to pass the time and I miss it.

Here is the story of how I lost my voice.

Yesterday, before I caught my fish, in a moment of self-loathing and utter carelessness, I opened a deli pack of chicken ham, and even though it smelled a bit odd and had that sticky feel to it, I devoured it right at the galley counter. Silly boy. As I stood there instantly feeling like I had over-eaten at McDonalds, I realized I had made a mistake, maybe even a very serious mistake. I am way too far away from anywhere to take a chance on food poisoning. It reminded me of a sailing friend from the South Pacific, who shall remain nameless. Despite my predicament, I had to smile with the memory of this fellow, and his adventures on his single handed quest to eat everything questionable he found on the boat and the places he visited and always be the last man standing. It was no contest as far as I was concerned - he was the king and he got home safely, but will I?

I knew right away what I had to do. And I knew I had to act soon. But I had never tried it before. In fact at sea, usually the first few days out, I am trying my best not to throw up! And I have had lots of practice at that with varying degrees of success, as my crewmates will attest. But making myself sick, when I wasn't? I had to smile again despite myself, when I realized what a tragic proposition this was for me to face, especially as I had only the faintest twinge of sea sickness on this trip and now I was going to have to make myself sick. "What a looser" I thought.

I cleared away some dirty dishes and leaned over the galley sink. The first tentative thrust of my fingers down my throat, brought about those awful sounds of the gag reflex, but nothing more. I tried it again, a lot more forcefully, asking inane questions of myself as I do at times like this. "I wonder what this thing I feel down my throat looks like?" and "I wonder, could I actually choke myself to death by doing this and would that be better or worse than death by food poisoning?" A third try brought no better results other than a roaring gag. You can imagine my voice was getting a work out and looking for a place to hide.

Well, I thought, I know when I am being sea sick it seems to be over fastest when I am on all fours on the cabin floor. I first encountered this position on the beaches of Long Point after my first and last encounter with Canadian Club Scotch Whiskey. Not being able to dig a hole in the sand, I reached over and grabbed the wash basin and got down on the salon floor. I managed to throw up only a trace. I tried and tried to no avail. I could see I was far from getting anywhere. I needed to get rid of this chicken.

As I pondered what to try next I remembered another friend who I remembered laughingly telling a gathering of friends one night of an evening he had spent at Haven-by-the-Sea Retreat Center drinking sea water and throwing up, or "Heaving-by-the-Sea" as he had put it. Ha Ha. Of course, salt water. No shortage that. One quickly swallowed cup from the galley salt water tap did the trick and I cleaned up with a second just for good luck.

Somewhere in the proceedings my voice got away. I know by the time I was attempting to swear in a self comforting way as I cleaned myself up on the salon floor, my voice was gone. But so was the chicken. Thank goodness. Problem solved. You silly boy, and I know my voice will forgive me and be back soon. Crazy huh?

Nothing to report around the boat today, really just a carbon copy of yesterdays great sailing. Covered another 154 nautical miles. Life is good, but watch out for that un-refrigerated chicken!

Cresswell

(no subject)

2009-05-02T01:05:00.000-07:00

Banner day - 154 NM in the last 24 hours. Good sailing by any standard.

And, the sea sent me a fish. As I stood at the pushpit rail and watched her struggele to get free from my hand line, I promised her if she let me catch her I would honour her with my life. You see, today is day four, and I have remembered to surrender to this place. Sending me a fish,is the world's way of saying you are welcome. She did not come without a struggle, perhaps I am less worthy. But come in the end she did. Her brilliant green sides flashed in the sunlight - she was a Mahi Mahi -- as I dragged out of her element and aboard. I ended her suffering with a single blow from the winch handle and a said out loud "Thank you, I am sorry". The colour drained from her flesh with her life. Over to you, Cresswell. So I have done my best. She was a shasimi lunch, she'll be a garlic and leek fry up for dinner and she'll be a fish broth for lunch tomorrow. I am doing my best.

It was a long night last night, leading to my surrender. I was up and down and up and down changing sails, reefing sails and putting sails back up as each squall rolled through in varying intensities. By 4 am I was pooped. I was also down to main sail only, and so it stayed while I slept an hour and a half till dawn, and then, you guessed it, I got up and put full sail back on.

After the moon went down around 1 am, it was fully clouded over, so it was very dark. Over the next two hours I passed within two miles of a two different fishing trawlers, skulking by them with no lights on. I want to be invisible out here. I want to remain alone. I am relying on the radar alarm to alert me to traffic while I sleep and it works well, except I experience about 10 false alarms to every boat. I can see why after a while, skippers just turn the damn thing off and take their chances in the dark. The whole thing is a calculated risk anyhow.

I am in and out of dream land dream land so many times a night, you think I would be getting used to it. It's a weird couple of seconds between waking in the cockpit and figuring out where I am! But now I remember, perhaps tonight will be different.
Cresswell

Day Two - a day of blue

2009-05-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

Howdy folks!
I am now solidly into the trades, though only about 40 miles off the coast of Sumatra and sailing due west. Fluffy white clouds rim the horizon, great blue 2 meter seas sparkle under the sun and cresting small white caps approach from th SE. It could not be a prettier day, or a better day for sailing west. By noon, we had sailed a total of 142 miles over the last 24 hours.

Conversations is still sailing on a broad port reach with the main to starboard, the genoa full and poled out to port and the solent staysail filling the hole between the main and the genoa. This is the perfect three sail combination for this boat. More stable than a spinnaker, it presents a large sail area that is stable, quiet and fast. Lovely, just lovely. Sliding along at between 7 and 8 knots.

By the end of the day yesterday I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. At sunset, the lack of sleep from first night out dodging fishing trawlers, plus 10 days of hell getting the boat ready had arrived in my lap. Fortunately the trawler traffic had diminished, so as the sun went down, I set the radar alarm and laid down in the cockpit and fell instantly asleep. About 25 minutes later I was instantly awake. The radar alarm was sounding and the boat was way off course. I could see nothing on the horizon to be as excited about as the radar, so I went below reset it, corrected the course and re-self steering and flopped down in the cockpit again. I feel instantly asleep. About 25 minutes later, I was instantly awake. The boat was off course and the radar alarm was sounding again. I got up....... And so it went all night till dawn, waking up once or twice an hour. I imagine its like it is to have a new baby home from the hospital. But here at the equator the nights are 12 hours long, so by morning my 20 or so naps had me feeling just great.

So, its day two and I can tell that I am adjusting to being at sea. The motion and the lack of solid sleep has taken about 48 hours to adjust to and my nervous tension for being solo is gone. My energy is going up and I even did some step ups, pushups and sit-ups to combat the bulge. Who knows, tomorrow I might even do some .....work work! (But I secretly hope not.)

My thought for the day is about capacity, about physical energy. All day yesterday, and last night, my body was just aching with fatigue. I didn`t have the energy to do anything that didn`t absolutely have to be done. I didn`t clean. I didn`t try to fix anything on the boat. I was barely able to cook dinner. I was so tired, I didn`t even get any pleasure from eating my KRAFT dinner with wieners! Now, that is bad! When I am taped out physically, nothing is fun, everything is a chore, and I start to beat myself up for not doing the stuff I `should`be doing. Last night I started in on myself about not being a good solo sailor and staying alert all night watching, as a sailor had recently boasted he does. But, you know, life is not that simple, and I am not that strong. Instead, I took the precautions I could, did the best I could to sleep around the alarms and bad helmsmanship of my self steering, and just gave up on doing what I thought I `should` do. I surrendered to my body and got as much sleep as I could and gave up on the everything else. Today I feel great and I am doing, in modesty, some great things (well some reasonable things). If things do get tough out here, I`ll be more prepared now that I am rested. Sometimes we need not be heroes: We just need to be good to ourselves. The rest will look after itself.

We're laughin!

2009-04-29T16:57:00.000-07:00

We are away from the dock!

After four months of waiting in Bali to come home, Conversations at last untied herself from the dock, motored out through all the Bali water borne holiday traffic, put up her sails headed south back out into the trade winds and turned west.

And here we are, dangling along at 7, 8 knots plus. The morning is bright and clear with 2 meter seas sunning blue under the morning sun as 15 knots of breeze builds white caps. I have a full main up, and a hard sheeted genoa to steady the roll as we move comfortably along on a very broad starboard reach.

Its just the two of us this time. It seems like such a bloody big boat for just me after all the friends and family who have been a part of this adventure from San Francisco. But otherwise it feels very familiar, as you would expect. The big difference is that there is only one watch! Last night I spent the night awake dodging fishing trawlers as I made my way further from shore and two squalls roused me from my nodding in the cockpit and showered me with sweet fresh water after a day of sweating. At midnight, the temperature was still 32 C and it was way too hot below for anything but to grab water and a bite to eat.

Just before sunset, I passed right between two humpback whales making their way east as I went west. The first one passed by close on the port side. At 50 yards or so away, he didn't pay me any attention that I could tell. But the second one passed right alongside the starboard rail and rose out of the water almost touching the boom to eye ball me as we passed in a split second. Snorting as he sounded. I could smell the fish he had for dinner (just kidding about the fish smell) But otherwise, that was a first! What magnificent creatures. As I watched them off the transom, one of them did a full breach and crashed back in the water with such force I could hear him a 100 yards away. A few hours later, in the dark of the night, dolphins came to play in our wake. What a wonderful night.

Had a minor tangle with the headsail roller last night, failing to get the sail fully furled, but it was too rough and dark to deal with so I sorted it all out this morning. Several times during the night, I got out the flashlight, clipped on my harness and went forward to the bow to make sure it wasn't getting worse. Otherwise the boat is doing great. And, I have finally mastered the spinnaker poles. I can do a solo launch and take down by harnessing them with the foreguy and toping lift before swinging them from the mast (yes we have two of the monsters and they are dangerous if I let them swing in the seaway!)

I am 20 hours into the passage. Looks like Day one will be about 130 NM, pretty good considering the light coastal winds I had to work through.

My thought for the day has to do with discipline and habit. As I head into my first solo offshore passage, I am appreciating how much habit carries me through the chores of sea keeping and my anxiousness for managing this big boat on my own so far away from help. I had great teachers, especially one old New England gentleman and captain, who taught me the importance of doing things 'right' so when things otherwise go 'wrong', as they always do, we are already ahead of the curve and not behind it. I learned from him how habit, that wonderful human automatic pilot, is built and maintained from just a little discipline, especially important in the beginning. Our habits keep our lives ship shape; they give us the chance to really experience our lives from in front of the curve, rather than behind it. To others, it looks like discipline, but its really just habit after just a short while.

Would love to hear from anyone, comments, questions, even advice! Email me at ve7cxw@winlink.org - no attachments or other non essentials please, this stuff is down loaded over the ham radio at about 10% of the speed of dial up!

TTFN
Cresswell

No more excuses, nothing, nothing to do but go sailing.

2009-04-29T01:03:00.000-07:00

Its Wednesday, very early Wednesday morning, and I unable to sleep am wondering what it is like to be heading off in the morning to sail 2300 NM all by my self. What is it like, I am wondering, because I am not really sure, despite being in the middle of the experience. I think I am anxious, a little fearful, a little confused. The only thing I am sure about, oddly, is this; there is nothing else in the world I want to be doing tomorrow than walking back down the dock after a civilized breakfast at the Bali Yacht club and getting on the boat and heading out to sea on a three week trade wind passage. All by myself. 'All by myself' seems to be the thing. All by myself. Isn't that the thing that is what being born into this life is about. Sure we are born to mothers, loving mothers, fathers, maybe some siblings, but, still it is basically a solo experience. Like being naked. Naked we are born into our lives, naked and alone we go out. Everything else is an illusion. Might as well try sailing this way.

My romance is that this is going to be the most significant experience of my life. Will this be true? Time only well tell.

I was standing on the deck after midnight, listening to water running out of the hose into the water tanks as I snuck some unmetered water after all the staff have gone home for the night. The marina at night is mostly about shadows and shapes, and quiet. No wind, no voices. Nobody walking about. Just silent floating boats. Black and whites, and greys, and curving lines of boat sides and deck lines. Standing there looking over Conversations deck lines, I though this boat is like a train, a night train. So long and lean, I imagine her in 24 hours driving through the night seas, split by her sharp bows and shouldered aside. In my vision, I am standing somewhere aft looking forward, hanging on for dear life, wondering at the power and beauty of such a huge boat and water and of being so alone.

So if you have been following along, you will have guessed since the last post, the engine has been repaired. Still not perfect, but good enough to do the job. The boat is now fully provisioned with some fresh as well as staple foods, the water and fuel tanks are full to the brim, all the tools are packed up, the boat vacuumed and tided up for sea. She is ready and so am I. I guess, I am. I am, I guess. I am. I guess.

Cresswell

Bali, Bali, Bali, Bali, Bali, Bali, Bali!

2009-04-26T19:40:00.000-07:00

Well folks, still here!
Its been 7 long, hot days working like a Trojan. You know, of course, God created the world in 7 days and 7 nights, well six actually, because he was smart enough to take a day off. I think that is pretty impressive, don't you? Considering how little I have accomplished working all 7 days and nights, I see why people believe in miracles! From the cool of the dawn, through the heat of the day to the welcome afternoon breeze before sunset, I have laboured away below decks, trying to breath life back into Conversations II. To the uninitiated, you see, a boat ages more while sitting than sailing. I came onboard last week after four months and nothing worked. I had to start by unfreezing all my tools that had rusted solid. Then it took me two days just to get the plumbing, electrical and propane working. Working in the 90 degree heat and 100 % humidity, I had to be careful working around electrical equipment. You see, I am melting!

So far, I have installed a new autopilot -- TQM -- a product I expect to be vastly superior to the Autohelm it replaces, a new Furuno radar 2300 series, with low power settings and watch mode to keep lookout for "targets" day and night, and a bunch of little things here and there. Finally ready for a test sail, I cleared the dock with a fellow sailor, only to find, surprise, surprise, the engine is not working! No power. We bid a hasty retreat back to the dock against a big outgoing tide. The $500 dollars worth of work I paid to fix the problem I knew I had when I left the boat last December, did not fix the problem. Of course. That would be too simple - to pay someone else to fix the problem and have it actually fixed. So this morning, while I take a breather from my labours, the diesel lies in parts, the whole fuel injection system off in somebodies hands for testing and rebuilding. And I am waiting, and not very patiently. If this fix doesn't bring back the engine, the next stop might be a total engine rebuild.

If you haven't guessed already from the tone of this posting, from my labours this week, I am exhausted. I guess a day or two waiting, hoping second $500 will fix the engine is what I need to be ready to put to sea is what I need. I guess a good pilot prepares himself, while he prepares his craft. Everything happens for a reason.

The good news is that I have insurance approval for the single handed passage. I have all the staple provisions on board I need for just little old me to live on for 3 weeks. The new autopilot and radar are working nicely. The SE trade winds are settling in and building over the next 48 hours. And everything else on the boat is more or less working again, so when the engine is fixed I will be out of here like a shot. Wednesday morning... touch wood.

I have to tell you, lounging about in the trade winds while the boat does the work for a while, sounds pretty darn attractive right now.

Getting ready to single hand

2009-03-14T20:30:00.000-07:00

I guess I am ready! Always wanted to do this, to single hand a passage offshore. So now I am going to. The first week of May I will leave Bali in Conversations II and sail her to Langkawi in Malaysia all by myself! Its a small step and a big step at the same time. I know the boat, and she is well equipped for this kind of passage. We have already sailed over 8000 miles together and I know she will be fast and safe. Besides its a trans-equatorial passage, tradewinds, doldrums, monsoons. Pretty gentle almost always.
On the other hand, it is 2300 miles, about 20 days. That's not a short passage. And its a big powerful boat, with just one hand to manager her - I will have to be thoughtful and careful.

With 10 berths on board, I wonder where I'll sleep? Probably in the cockpit. This is related to the first question most people ask "When will you sleep?" I'll sleep whenever I need to if it's safe to do so. I will have a working autopilot and a the Hydrovane wind steering will so the helming I will have radar to keep watch and AIS to pick the broadcast positions and heading of nearby ships, so I will be able to avoid being run down by a large vessel. And I have all the tunes in the world to keep me company.
Stay tuned, I'll be posting here everyday, starting with the last weeks of April when I head down to Bali to start the preparations.
Join Me!
Cresswell

The last word!

2008-12-15T16:19:00.000-08:00

Sunday, Dec 14, Bali
Cresswell here

I cannot sleep, aware that this is my last night on board. This is everyone's last night on board. The moon is bright and full above, the scudding clouds are passing low overhead and and I am sad that we have come in from the sea, tied to the dock and tomorrow we leave the boat tied to the dock and head home off on our separate ways.

After 10 long days and nights, we arrived in Bali yesterday morning and here is where the boat will stay until the NW monsoons pass. Though we had hoped to carry right on to Singapore, the difficulty and length of the last passage was proof the NW monsoons had set in for the season. The monsoon season's contrary wind, when there was any, contrary currents, and the endless parade of tropical rain storms conspired to make the last passage long and taxing and the prospect of continuing onward rather
daunting. From here to Singapore during this season would have been a lot of work. Though I say with bravado I would carry on, our late arrival and work back home has claimed too many of our crew so I have the best excuse to rest Conversations II here while we will wait out the season.

So I am both relieved and disappointed. Getting all the back to Singapore was my goal, but, I must confess, after a total of 69 days at sea, I am feeling rather pooped! San Francisco to Hawaii, Hawaii to Fiji, Fiji to Vanuatu, Vanuatu to Darwin, and Darwin to Bali constituted over 10,000 sea miles of passage making. It has been many days and nights of fine sailing, some days and nights of not so fine sailing, but never did we suffer too much or ever did any of us regret the challenge.

It is no accident that we call our boat Conversations. Over all those miles, it was our friends as crew that filled the time with companionship and, what else, conversation. Collectively, you made this a trip of learning and heart for me and Irena and I would like to thank everyone who helped bring our new boat so very far. Al and Leona, Paul and Jordon, Dad/Don, Matt, Jim, Marcel, Rolland, Dennis and Rita, Jan and Bob, Cliff and Fiona and Peter you all gave of your time and talent to sail us safely
here - thank you, thank you!

And I would like to thank Irena. Though she had to get off the boat in Hawaii and go back to Singapore to hold down the fort and work, she never left our sides. She arranged crew, chased down and shipped repair parts and helped me, "Mr. Just-In-Time Planner" keep the whole thing on the rails. She kept our friends and family back home up to date on our progress, kept the blog in order and encouraged us all the way. Thank you! Thank you

We will make good use of the time in Bali to get work done on the boat. Perhaps new teak decks and soles (floor boards) and much cabinetry re-finishing will be done to clean her up below. In April or May, in finer weather, we will make the final 1000 miles sail to Singapore a pleasure cruise with more friends and family. So if you haven't put your hand up yet, now is the time!

See you in the Springtime!
C. Cresswell

Pete's Version of Events

2008-12-12T11:02:00.000-08:00

Ha ha, after reading Matt's blog post I feel like I have to defend myself. Yes, getting Matt a jacket did take longer than expected, but only because the boat was heeling so hard that not just the toe rails were in the water, but the deck as well! I was half-standing on the nav station just trying to move around. I will admit that I was a bit green around the gills after, but I had complete confidence in Matt to steer us to safety. I'm not going to question why Mr. Matt "I took Physics AP in
High School" Fast thought that putting the boat perpendicular to the wind would make the boat even out, but I digress.

That storm turned out to be just the beginning of a very long day. We had crossed the Sumba Strait to find some refuge from the wind and the currents, both of which were pushing us backwards. The storm hit us just as we were completing the crossing. Once we reached the island of Sumbawa we began tacking our way up the coast. Cress will tell you he gave us time to get quick naps in between maneuvers, but Matt and I maintain that the 10 minutes he gave us was closer to 5. We had not been able
to go back to sleep since the storm. Progress was very slow, and a bit frustrating, as the weather was still rough and the decks still slippery.

Switching sails while heeling was quite the experience. Finding as many points of contact with the boat to keep balance while untying one sail and switching it with another, made me feel like I was finally getting some real sailing experience. Perhaps too much of it! We were all very tired at the end of that day.

Our visit to Waingapu was an early highlight on this trip. In dire need of diesel, we managed to find a port that could potentially fuel the boat. It began with us maneuvering around two docks trying to communicate what we were looking for, but without any knowledge of the language and a few unintentional hand gestures, it probably looked like we were trying to find something that a gas station couldn't provide us.

When we were finally docked and sorted, we found the locals to be great people. Though there was a language gap, we managed to communicate fairly well. They took a particular shining to Matt, who had given one of the visitors to our boat his hat. In return they nicknamed him Osama bin Laden (alas Matt has been growing a beard for the past 3 months).

We will be arriving in Bali shortly where we will sort out the details for the rest of the trip.

Pete

30 Seconds of fear...

2008-12-11T03:00:00.000-08:00

Hello all,
Matt here Thursday December 11

It's been a long time because there's been nothing to write about. I've opened this blog window five or six times over the last few days, began to write but nothing has come out. I've finally got something to write about! It also turns out that this is my "three months on the boat day" as I arrived on the 11th of September. I can't believe it's been that long, and I can't believe it's almost over! Anyways...

It was 5.15am and the sun was just starting to light the morning overcast skies. We'd had some wind for a few hours and we had been motor sailing towards the island of Sumbawa. Pete and I were having another one of our incredibly useless but hilarious conversations, this one was about Cartman in a coma, singing the stupid song that goes along with yet another South Park episode. The waves were beginning to build and the decks were becoming saturated with the crashing waves. I looked below and
saw Fi emerge from the v-berth, hair wet and face tired. She explained that she had left her hatch open a few inches to cool the air in the sauna-like cabin. One of the aforementioned waves had crashed over the bow, soaking Fi and her berth. She came up to join in the "conversation". Almost immediately upon her arrival the winds decided to pick up and I felt a few sprinkles of the rain storm which I had failed to notice. Within seconds the wind had increased to an apparent speed of just over
25 knots, which is close to the highest I've seen. Fi had just snuck below to get Cress when the rain kicked in with full force. Pete wouldn't have any of it and quickly scurried below to seek refuge from the torrential downpour...and to get me a raincoat which was EVENTUALLY delivered! The wind picked up, the waves grew larger and choppier, and the helm incredibly difficult to hold in position. The boat began to take control, I began to shiver from the cold rain...and this is when the 30 seconds
of genuine fear kicked in!

I'm going to pause here for a second to explain a conversation (or friendly argument) that Cress and I have been having over the last few weeks-slash-months. Once or twice over the last three months I've noticed that the toe rail has dipped in the water as we were heeled over. Cress didn't believe me and said it hadn't happened, and gave me that "you're crazy" look as he explained the physics of it all. Well today I definitely saw this happen and more!

The boat began to heel like I'd never seen it heel before! Not only were the toe rails in the water but the teak decks themselves! I was sitting (or standing as it seemed) on the windward side looking straight down into the raging water below, the horizontal rain piercing my eyes making it near impossible to see the instruments as I fought the helm to keep the boat on course and afloat! For about thirty seconds I feared the boat was going to flip, capsize and submerge us all! My heart was pounding
and my mind racing through several solutions to keep the boat from heeling more into the water. I thought about letting the main out to depower the boat but again the lack of a third arm made this seem like a highly unlikely and impossible task. I thought of bearing off the wind to flatten the boat, which I found out afterwards makes the boat heel even more! Luckily enough for me and just as I had run out of ideas the wind subsided and the boat began to level out. The rain stopped and my heart
beat returned to a normal rate. It wasn't that bad after all and I wasn't the only one suffering! After the rain had completely stopped, a ghostly looking Pete peered through the companion way asking if it was safe to come up. He mentioned that fresh air would be a godsend as all of the color had left his face and he looked like he had just drunk a few bowls of Kava! After several minutes the color resurfaced and Pete was looking as good as new. He also assured us that the puddle in the nav
station where he had been sitting was caused by the rain...I'm not sure I believe him since all the hatches were closed and the companion way completely covered. Ah well, who am I to judge?

Now I'm sitting in the puddle at the nav station sipping on a coffee. The wind has left us once again and the engine will be turned on shortly after we tack and continue on our way towards Bali! The active route center says we've got 2 days and 3 minutes to go...but that changes every second or so. We'll get there eventually and that's all that matters!

Talk soon, Matt

Pete's First Blog Post

2008-12-08T13:56:00.000-08:00

So I wrote an entry a few days ago but didn't post it, so I'll add that one and then fill in some updates after.

December 5

We set sail from Darwin on the 3rd, so I had some time to see the sights and experience the punishing local heat. It was too hot to do anything during the middle of the day, but we managed to get most of the boat chores done in the morning before the weather set in. The rest of the day would be spent reading or wandering around town. Apparently the population of Darwin drops to 20,000 because of the weather, and I understand why.

Now into day four of sailing, and we've probably had eight hours without the motor running. I'm convinced Mother Nature's stock portfolio is heavily invested in diesel, and she's trying to run up the price one sailboat at a time. It looks like we will b stopping in Timor for some fuel, but we hope we won't have to stay long. She has also decided to tantalize us with rain showers all around us, but never quite on top of us. The sun has been beating down on us since we left, making anything not
covered on the deck extremely hot. The crew berth that I sleep in is sweltering, so after one rough night I've taken to sleeping on the deck, which has been a great experience.

Night shifts are amazing, as the clouds usually separate and allow us to see every star in the sky. Even though I only recognize one (Orion), it's something you definitely don't see in Vancouver.

What affects me the most about being on this trip is the sheer size of the ocean. Since day two, we have been traveling without land in sight, and very rarely another vessel. It's awe-inspiring to be able to see as far as the horizon and yet not see any other signs of human life.

Cress, Matt, Cliff, and Fi are excellent people to be with on this trip. We eat delicious meals (not my contribution), and are convinced of the nutritional value of several cold beers on a hot day. I've found that Matt is a connoisseur of the arts, like myself, and we have been reciting our favorite South Park characters, episodes, and lines. It turns out we have the same sense of humour, how scary is that? For those who know me, imagine two Pete's carrying on a conversation about anything we
want. I think Cliff, Fi, and Cress deserve medals, though the pleasure of our company should be reward enough.

Cress and I have had a few discussions on politics, and he's surprised me with his emphasis on morals and ethics. I must admit that as poli sci students we had given up on such novelties at university by year two. It's an interesting new perspective, and often we end up not agreeing on anything. Nevertheless, it has been great to have an engaging talk about politics after nine months of shunning those talks since I graduated. Plus, I've found out that I actually remember some stuff!

I pray for the well-being of the Canucks every night, may they skate fast and score much (though I hear that isn't the case).

December 8

I can feel the change a comin'! Deciding to fuel up in an Indonesian port, we changed our course and came across a most unfamiliar thing; sailing weather! After five days, this was my first real taste of sailing and it was amazing. Having traveled by motor for so long, I still don't completely have my sea legs, and that only added to the excitement of finally using the boat for what it was made to do! Admittedly, I was merely in a supporting role on the boat compared to the experts I'm with,
but it was a fantastic rush to be speeding across the ocean with the boat heeling far on its side. Once again I found new respect for sailing as I experienced first hand the challenge of steering such a ship, though by the end I think I was doing a decent job.

Truly one of the most amazing experiences of my life happened tonight when a massive pod of dolphins swam with us after dinner! What must have been dozens upon dozens of dolphins, little ones and big ones, came jumping towards us, and then swam around as we cheered them on (Matt had it on good authority that dolphins respond to noise), clapping and yelling with no one else in sight. I could not believe the their agility, as they would swim around the bow, roll on their backs, and make lightning-quick
turns. It was amazing, but no pictures sadly, I didn't want to miss anything by going to get my camera!

So the plan is ever-changing as we adapt to the weather and our fuel levels. We will be making a stop in a small port to add some fuel, and then moving on to Bali. From there will decide what to do with the rest of the trip.

Thanks Rita for the hockey updates, even if they were not the results I wanted to hear.

Talk to you all again soon.

Tripping the light fantastic

2008-12-08T02:09:00.000-08:00

Fiona, Dec 8th.

We have just been treated to the sight of the year!! Just before sunset, dozens and dozens of dolphins joined us in the most spectacular dance I've ever seen. They stayed with us for about 10 minutes, some coming from hundreds of yards away in the water. It seemed the more we clapped and cheered, the livelier their antics. What a sight!! Truly a memorable moment.

Boring, boring, boring across the balmy sea

2008-12-07T02:10:00.000-08:00

Sunday Dec 7
Cresswell here
Well we had a night of sailing last night! Nothing spectacular, but it was very welcome. Amazing as how just a wee bit of wind we would have sniffed at in the Pacific is now a bonanza! We sailed at 4 to 5 knots for 12 hours!

I took a hard look at the fuel remaining - roughly 400 miles of fuel and 550 NM to Bali so we have decided to motor past Kupan and go for Bali. Surely we can find enough wind in 5 days to sail 150 miles. So we are most likely to arrive in Bali Dec 13, touch wood. That's a Saturday, so we will may get stuck fueling on Monday then departing then.

It another 1000 miles to Singapore so who knows how long that will take. We have averaged 105 miles a day on this passage.... To be sure, I'll be home for Christmas......

But no wind today. Not a breath of wind all day, motoring still. By tomorrow am, this will be a total of FIVE days over which period we have sailed only 18 hours!
Matt is going to take up power boating.
Fi and Cliff are secretly planning a return to Rascal's air conditioning
Peter is just going to perish from heat stroke
And I am going to take up Suduko.
Touch wood, the diesel has performed well, needing a minimum of oil and a fan belt tightening or two.
We are now passing the southern tip of Timor Island. Wish us wind. Wish us luck!

Cress

PS NO other blog entries cause everyone is bored to death, Matt said so.

Belt Buckle Blues

2008-12-07T02:07:00.000-08:00

Hi Dennis here

This story starts way back in Fiji where Jim had left in such a hurry that
he left a bunch of his clothes, sheets, head lamp and belt on the boat. No
problem we would take them back to Van for him. Anyway after we boarded the
boat, I wore only a pair of shorts for most of the trip to Darwin and left
my belt in the forward berth with all of the stuff for Jim. At Vanuatu,
Rita, Cress and I thought it would be a good gesture to donate a bunch of
clothes to the village at Port Providence so we gave what we didn't feel we
needed along with all of Jim's stuff less his belt. After we arrived in
Darwin, I couldn't find my belt but thought I would look more closely in the
boat as we cleaned it up. While wandering around with Cress and Irena, I
mentioned that my belt was missing and we should be reminded of taking Jim's
stuff back to Van. Cress said he had on Jim's belt and that he would
remember to give it to me. On close inspection I said he was wearing my belt
and Jim's was in my luggage. Cress gave out a sigh of relief and grinned
from ear to ear. Because we had been eating so well (thanks to Rita's
baking), drinking so much beer and with no exercise, he thought he had put a
few inches around his stomach. He was on the last notch of the belt he was
wearing and straining to get it done up whenever he put on his "going out"
shorts. For those of you who don't Jim or myself, his belt is a few sizes
larger (4") than my 36 waist so you can understand the sigh of relief when
he found out it was my belt and not Jim's he was wearing. Anyway we all had
a good laugh about it and know that Fiona cooking will further threaten the
crew's effort to stay in trim shape (Matt's beer belly and beard should be a
hit with all his girl friends in Singapore).

(no subject)

2008-12-05T00:47:00.001-08:00

Friday morning, beginning of the third day.
Position 12 82 S, 127 32 E
C Cresswell here.
Wow, we are totally becalmed.
Its like doing a passage along the doldrums!
The sea is oily, featureless, and the horizon is a hard flat all around. It is so still, it is impossible to discern any movement. We seem to be suspended in space and time, even though we are motoring at 4.5 knots.
It was a beautiful sunrise, bright colours around the eastern quadrant of the horizon, coloured clouds.
It was a quiet, good night for sleeping away to the drone of the diesel.
It was a great dinner last night, when nachoes turned to burritos when we discovered the green bag was filled with potatoe chips, not corn chips.
But still, our lives will not be quite perfect until the wind fills in.
But
The forecast is for no wind today, no wind tomorrow, maybe the day after.... and even then it is forecast to be light and on the nose.

Having motored 32 hours already, we see fuel is going to be a problem. Bali is about 750 miles away and we are down about 200 liters of fuel, enough to run a little over three days or about 350 miles. Well before that, we will need to shut down to save fuel for charging and getting into harbour. Hope there is wind before then.......

Only 91 nautical miles yesterday. Second slowest day on this whole trip since San Francisco. This is going to be a very slow passage at this rate and it will now definitely end with a stop in Bali for fuel if not also Timor!

This is a good day for escaping into fiction.

C xiixixixixi

C is for Calm, as in BECALMED! -> Not!

2008-12-05T00:47:00.000-08:00

Or is it C is for crazy?
When the wind holds it breath, nothing gets in my face more than my frustrated agenda.
'Gotta get there in 8 days.'
'Gotta not spend money on fuel.'
'Gotta get home.'

Or is it C is for Chaos?
When the wind holds its breath, nothing gets in my face more than being tossed out of my order of doing-ness.
'Gotta do something.'
'Gotta learn something.'
'Gotta not waste my time.'

When the wind holds its breath, nothing gets more in my face than my fear of not doing.

Okay, C is for surrender
I guess it will be what it will be.

C. Cresswell

(no subject)

2008-12-04T01:06:00.000-08:00

Dec 4, Fiona on line.

Well, here we are! Have already racked up a couple of 'firsts' and have only been aboard for one day. Darwin's tidal fall is huge, so there's a lock system to get in and out of the marina. All good practice for the barge trip around the UK next year...

It's so HOT!!! We were all melting yesterday and I think today will be the same.

The sky last night was fantastic. Never seen so many stars, and when the moon finally peeked out from behind the cloud it was hiding behind, it was a clear, yellow crescent. Just enough lightning around the skyline to make the watch easier, but no storm activity near us.

Andy, heard a flamenco version of Crowded House's "Whenever I call out your name" this morning. Nice.

I'll get off here now, but will write again soon.

Ciao, Fi xox

Darwin to Singapore

2008-12-03T00:43:00.000-08:00

Wednesday morning, first day out of Darwin en route to Singapore.
Cress here.

Well we have cleared Darwin harbour under zero wind conditions.
Why would we leave if there is no wind?
Good Question.
Its mostly because once the Australian wheels of process began to turn two days ago on our exiting out procedure, there really was no turning back unless we were prepared to re-engage the customs tar baby and start all over again.

You know they say Australian's make great wines but I say its nothing compared to my whine. Listen. Here goes. We made five man trips to the customs office downtown to enter into the country, and 8 man trips to leave. Three days before we even reached shore, we were buzzed twice - on two consecutive days - by the Australian Coast Watch aircraft, and immediately interrogated both times on the radio as to who we were, where we were going, and what we intended to do there. Not only that, they read out
a passage on the radio about what the law says about not being able touch down anywhere but at an official port of entry - after we had just told them that is where we were headed, to Darwin. On top of this, when we docked, five officials came on board, they took all our meat provisions, all of our vegetables and spices and made us fill out about 15 forms. They sent down two divers to decontaminate the boat and then we had to leave the boat for 14 hours because we could not use our plumbing. And
oh yes, because it was Sunday, they charged us $417 in overtime wages for the pleasure of their company. Gosh, when was the last time customs charged you at the airport when you flew in somewhere on a Sunday?

Am I done? Well no, not quite.

All the men and woman who conducted this process were unfailing polite and friendly, I guess because they we glad to have such a great job. They seemed to really like hanging around all day dreaming up more things for us to do. What fun it must be to come along in a nice crisp uniform, lay out the law and process for us and then to watch us do all the work, coming and going, filling out forms - mostly with the same information on each. One four page form I filled out twice. I even got to carry our
20 kilograms of meat and vegetables to their impound car, and to keep the taxi and car rental business happy as we made all the trips to their office.

So that's my great Australian Whine! Not bad ehh? I feel much better now for it, especially as I don't have to pay any taxes on it, and I don't have to fill out any more damn Australian Customs forms. I had the last laugh because they didn't notice I failed to make an extra trip downtown to get a mooring permit to tie up in a marina. Hah! Ha! HA!

Maybe I would be in better humor if there was some wind.
Hey, what's this? Looks like a nice Australian Merlot........

(no subject)

2008-12-02T17:59:00.000-08:00

Safe arrival in Darwiin !

2008-11-25T04:23:00.000-08:00

After 19 days at sea, 6 sailors and 12 wobbly legs have hit solid ground. What an amazing journey! From sleeping in a washing machine, (Matt's favourite saying), to cooking at a 20 degree angle, to bathing on the swim grid, to watching gracious dolphins, to a few (very few) nauseous moments, to many Happy Hours with luke warm beer, to hours and hours of enjoyable, exhilarating watches (and a few tense ones), to great conversations, to fighting with the spinnaker, to getting drenched from an open
hatch, to enjoying countless of Dennis and Rita's fabulous cooking, to Matt's entertaining mast climb, to Bob's guitar music, to Cress' amazing patience, to 19 fantastic sunset dinner cruises, to sleepless nights - we have experienced it all!

Rita, Dennis, Matt, Bob and I would like to thank Cress, our Captain, for this once in a lifetime opportunity. He has amazing gifts; the ability to teach, the gift of patience and an intensity that drives him to perfection. A perfect combination with four newbies on board.

We had a surreal moment last night as we ate our last dinner together (prepared by Matt) and were graced with the most vibrant 45 minute sunset. We are sorry to see it end!

We are also excited about meeting Irena (Cress' wife) who will be joining us for almost a week in Darwin and then Matt, Cress, together with Cliff, Fiona and Peter will continue on their next passage to Bali and then their final destination - Singapore.

We would also like to thank you, are many readers who have faithfully followed our journey! I hope you have in a small way been entertained and felt a part of our adventure!

From Darwin, over and out
Jan for Bob, Matt, Cress, Dennis & Rita