THE ULTIMATE BOON

A Life without Socks

2012-02-23T00:07:00.000-08:00

I love early mornings. At 5 a.m., when the world is just about to wake up, when the sun is opening one eye behind the horizon, when the mind is sharp and the senses fresh, I feel complete. This morning at that magic hour I went on deck to check my anchor and was overwhelmed by a warm, tropical breeze. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds after a storm that passed, but air was warm, and I got that sensory image of the islands of love, Tahiti and the rest of that Polynesian pearl necklace. The summer in New Zealand has almost been non-existent this year and I started getting depressed with all the lows and their gray skies and accompanying howling winds when this morning, I remembered what I was here for: to get ready for Tahiti. That warm wind at that magic hour brought me across thousands of miles to that place which resides in my imagination ( a figment?) as the ultimate destination for sailing vessels.
Tomorrow I'm up on the hard at Ashby's Boatyard for the final work before we set off. And in a couple of weeks, God willing, we're at the start line.
Never mind the summer in New Zealand. I spent the last 4 years without socks in the southern hemisphere and my summer will last many more years. I am determined to stay away from the cold and frigid north. Oceania, Africa and Asia, comfortably close to the Equator, that's my playground.
Here's to a life without socks! Cheers!

The Black Wind

2012-02-07T00:07:00.001-08:00

That's what they call it, the black wind. I have always tried to avoid personifying the sea and the wind, but, forgive me, I am just a human being and this past week I have seen the Evil Eye in a mysterious and isolated place called Mimmiwhangata. We sailed out of the bay with a beautiful forecast but by next morning, one big ugly face appeared in the clouds and a black wind arrived. 30-35 knots on the nose with a 3 meter swell, on the nose as well. We found shelter in Mimmiwhangata, only to be trapped for five days of insane winds. They say Salvador Dali was crazy because the wind howled in his village since his birth, in fact the Spanish declared the entire village population insane. I believe that. After five days I was contemplating buying a farm and shearing sheep. Then this morning I said, screw it, I'm outta here. I sail out in the open sea, and guess what, 3 meter swells, 20 knots on the nose. I put the tail between my legs, turned the boat back up north and sailed back to Cape Brett. We reached 9.3 knots on a beam reach and then we blew up the mainsail. With the sail ripped from one end to the other we were still clocking 6.5 knots.
So this was the second worst trip from hell ever, the first one being when I set out to sail to Greenland some years ago, but that's another story. Anyways, I'm back in Opua.

And the wind is still howling. But for those still very romantic about ocean sailing here are a few pictures from the lazy sunny days in New Zealand. Sometimes it really is perfect, but only rarely, very rarely. Most of the time though it's the Fight Club. If you like to be beaten up daily by a much bigger, more powerful force then this is for you. I like a bleeding nose once in a while myself.

The Long White Cloud

2012-01-22T14:27:00.000-08:00

I have been working on Figment the last few weeks, basically trying to understand all systems and get into the habit of using them in all conditions. This past weekend we sailed her for the first time, and it was a wonderful experience. She sails like a charm, is dry, safe and strong, just as I had hoped she would be.
I've taken a few shots from our stint up the Bay of Islands, as you will see below. In a few days we'll depart for Auckland and in a few months time we'll be ready for the big passage to French Polynesia. In the meanwhile I'm tasting the local Pinot Gris, together with New Zealand lamb grilled with rosemarin and Kumara potatoes, shared every night with friends from far flung corners of the world. Also, I am declaring Cointreau the official sundowner on Figment.
Life is good now, really good, and I'm grateful for it.

SEA FEVER

2011-12-23T10:46:00.000-08:00

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 gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.
I must down go 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.: John Masefield

Return To Sea

2011-12-23T01:30:00.000-08:00

Finally, time has come to return to sea.
In just a few days I'll be back in the Pacific Ocean, preparing the boat for a voyage that will last 6 months and maybe more. I'll prepare the boat, do some sea trials, sail the less traveled routes along the coast of New Zealand and reconnect with my life-long friend, the sea. Let's see what 2012 will bring.
I have a good feeling...

The Third Way

2011-12-12T00:18:00.000-08:00

Here's my brother's work over the past 16 years being brought to big screens around the world.

Shame On You Boyz!

2011-12-10T04:04:00.000-08:00

So let me get this straight: 50% of The Volvo Ocean Race teams retired from the first leg, arguably the easiest one of the entire race course. Three yachts crawled back to base under jury rigs, with additional pumps working overtime after delamination issues and all the drama involved in such breakdown scenarios.
But how was this possible? These are multimillion dollar machines backed by huge corporations throwing unlimited amounts (what credit crunch??) of money into this highly publicized event. And then, as I was watching all this unfold a few days ago, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard a skipper saying: "it makes you realize how far from help you are out there!"
Well that's where I absolutely draw the line for these wimps. The bloody Sat phone was ringing like a taxi dispatcher radio!! If you are far from help, you with a dome the size of St. Paul's Basilica connecting you with E.T., then what do you say about those singlehanders that plough the oceans in 20-foot, forty-year old plastic boats? Some of you were just about to cry because it was "so hard on you mentally." A bunch of steroid-pumped men, backed by the best technology has ever created for man at sea, crying like babies because they had a few hard days motoring and under jury-rig, trying to "stay sane in the face of such adversity."
What can I say?

I guess sailing on your own, without external assistance, without the glitz and media, without satellite tracking and weather routing is an act of insanity in our days.
Shame on you boyz, shame on you! You don't make your sailing ancestors proud at all...hell, you don't even make yourselves proud!
When I saw the yachts being lifted on a cargo ship to go to Cape Town, I started laughing out loud, in disgust. So much for ocean-going machines and men! They paid 300 thousand euros to go to Cape Town, how about that for an ocean-going machine?
SHAME ON YOU, BOYZ!

LIFE IN A DAY

2011-11-25T22:47:00.000-08:00

Iceland: The Unseen Land

2011-11-16T00:52:00.000-08:00

Photos here.

The Winds of Change

2011-11-14T11:09:00.000-08:00

It looks like the sky is opening up again ahead of us. After two years of hard beating we finally get the wind from behind and everything looks so much better. Great destinations loom beyond the horizon, great opportunities and extraordinary adventures lie ahead. I can feel it, the good winds are back.
Major challenges get defined on the canvas of the future as well. I feel strong and confident and positive, something I did not feel in years. All these great things will happen in 2012.
I am waiting. I was born for 2012. I was born for the day I leave on the greatest voyage of all.

A new seahorse

2011-10-29T01:10:00.000-07:00

Click on the link below...

2011-10-19T09:33:00.000-07:00

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY

Le Sud

2011-10-13T02:08:00.000-07:00

This thing I'm suffering from is like a malaria bout: whenever my immune system is low I get another attack. They say you never really get rid of it, it's there, lodged inside of you, erupting at intervals and causing havoc to your entire system.
I'm talking about the Southern Ocean, or, as the French romantically call it, Le Sud. What is it about that vast nothingness that lured sailors for centuries? They say south of 40s there is no law. South of 50s there is no God. It's a powerful dream, an addictive idea, a mixture of respect, fear and awe. Big elements in their wildest, most extreme form. Sailors hate Le Sud and they love it just as much. More people have been into space than sailed down there, in the high latitudes of the great south.
What can I say? I guess today I'm feeling a bit Cape Horny...

Polynesia Again

2011-10-08T10:12:00.000-07:00

Security--A poem by William Stafford

2011-10-03T10:16:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow will have an island. Before night
I always find it. Then on to the next island.
These places hidden in the day separate
and come forward if you beckon.
But you have to know they are there before

they exist.

Some time there will be a tomorrow without

any island.
So far, I haven't let that happen, but after
I'm gone others may become faithless

and careless.
Before them will tumble the wide unbroken sea,
and without any hope they will stare at

the horizon.

So to you, Friend, I confide my secret:
to be a discoverer you hold close whatever
you find, and after a while you decide
what it is. Then, secure in where you have been,
you turn to the open sea and let go.

http://www.wanderer-ocean-expeditions.org/

2011-10-01T00:42:00.000-07:00

http://www.wanderer-ocean-expeditions.org/

FRENCH POLYNESIA: LEG I AND LEG II WITH WANDERER OCEAN EXPEDITIONS

2011-09-30T10:00:00.000-07:00

Columbus was a tourist

2011-09-29T12:19:00.000-07:00

Ignorance used to anger me. Nowadays it makes me laugh at best. Most of the time I'm indifferent to homo ignoramus, because I say to myself, what's the point? I have a reputation for being a skipper with a temper (I call it personality) and many crews can testify to that, yes, I do have my buttons, and yes, there are things that tick me off. Like arrogance, injustice, falseness, manipulation, verbal bullshit. I like the truth, actually the older I get the more I become a fan of truth, and I don't care who's feelings get hurt in the process. I just don't have time for velvet and honey. In this day and age of fake everything that's not a popular move. They call me The Grinch, Captain Burber, Christian the Tyrant, and who knows what else. All I know is I'm not going to let anyone manipulate the truth. That doesn't in any way make me a saint, oh no, far from it, I am just as flawed as anyone else, it's just that I strive to keep it real, even when it hurts or it's uncomfortable. That's the difference. I don't stick my head in the sand. I say it the way I see it.
Look at the myth about Christopher Columbus. He's an American/Spanish/Portuguese/Italian hero. Everyone wants to put a claim on such a great navigator. This guy found a huge sponsor to go out there to find "India." He found it after only three weeks, can you believe it, after which he engaged in adulterous relationships with the locals, made a lot of money on gold and slaves and became famous for the biggest navigational error in the history of human exploration. The fact that the Vikings were there hundreds of years before, or that the Polynesians navigated across the largest ocean on earth, finding and navigating through tiny islands in a cosmic universe of blue water seems to be irrelevant. How come the Polynesians, who sailed across 165 million square kilometers of ocean did not find America, which is thousands of times larger than the islands they discovered?
It makes me laugh. Columbus was a tourist, nothing more, a lost, drunken sailor visiting a place which had been discovered by many others before him. Now compare that with someone like Captain Cook and you'll laugh your head off. Look at the first image below. That's Columbus' voyage. Then look at Captain Cook's voyages and you'll see what I mean.
I rest my case. Now, I'm ready for another glass of Chardonnay. And more maps of the world.

2012 Itinerary

2011-09-26T01:17:00.000-07:00

2012 PROGRAM:

Leg 1: AUCKLAND-RAIVAVAE-TAHITI
5 weeks, 2700 miles.
The first leg is not for the faint-hearted: skirting the Roaring Forties in search for strong westerlies, the seas and waves on this stretch of water will impress the saltiest of seadogs. It is a great training ground for storm management, weather tactics as well as physical and mental endurance. The participants should expect occasional winds in excess of 60 knots and typical Southern Ocean conditions. The reward is arriving in what is considered to be the most beautiful island in the world, Raivavae in the Austral Islands, before rounding the famous Venus Point at the entrance into the Tahiti pass.
Relevant ocean sailing experience is required for this segment.
Departure: May 1, Auckland
Arrival: June 7, Tahiti

Leg 2: TAHITI-MOOREA-HUAHINE-RAIATEA-BORA-BORA
2 weeks, 120 miles.
This one is for the sun lovers, beach lovers, or just lovers. Lazy sailing under the tropical sky, snorkeling, beaches, diving, exploring the islands, and enjoying the local culture with its rich song and dance festivals as well as Polynesian feasts on shore and on the boat. A dream for many around the world, the Society Islands represent the pinnacle of any South Pacific adventures, so regard this as a vacation rather than navigational training.
Departure: July 15, Tahiti
Arrival: July 30, Bora Bora

Leg 3: BORA-BORA-MOPELIA-SUVAROV-NIUE-TONGA
4 weeks, 1500 miles.
Trade wind sailing at its best, this leg will take you through the most romantic islands in the world, from Bora Bora through Tom Neal’s Island to Oneself, Suwarrov, to snake island Niue and finally to the magic Kingdom of Tonga. Reef navigation, currents, uncharted volcanic islands and reefs, the true blue of South Pacific sailing. Mopelia is considered to have the most difficult pass in French Polynesia, therefore this stop will only happen if the sea conditions are right. However, if we manage to get through the pass this will be a true castaway island experience, one to forever remember.
Departure: August 1, Bora Bora
Arrival: September 1, Neiafu

Leg 4: TONGA-FIJI-VANUATU
4 weeks, 1500 miles.
The South Pacific Convergence Zone, uncharted reefs, and strong trades make this a demanding leg. Great navigational care is required and this will be an opportunity to experience part of this rough triangle. (Samoa-Tonga-Fiji) It is also the entrance leg into Melanesia, a whole new world for most people, a world of dramatic volcanic islands with a unique culture left almost untouched since Captain Cook’s famous ship Resolution landed on Tanna.
Departure: September 5, Neiafu
Arrival: October 1, Port Vila

Leg 5: VANUATU-NEW CALEDONIA-NORFOLK-AUCKLAND
5 weeks, 1500 miles.
We’ll start this leg in Melanesia before returning once again to Polynesian New Caledonia. Some good sailing is expected on this route, lots of course changes and adjustments because we are now literally surrounded by reefs and atolls. After a good 3 weeks in the tropics, we will await a good weather window to head south to Norfolk, where we will stop weather permitting, and then on to New Zealand. This one leg might be the toughest you’ll ever experience, highly recommended for skippers that want to build heavy weather miles in some of the most challenging waters on the planet.
Departure: October 5, Port Vila
Arrival: November 20, Opua, Bay of Islands

Please contact us at solitaire.expeditions@gmail.com for further details.

A New Beginning

2011-09-23T01:27:00.000-07:00

My latest spell of silence can easily be explained but not excused, I'm afraid. I was busy working on my next big project and that is usually a time when I go in stealth mode, away from the public and even from the closest people to me. I do a lot of thinking before I set out to achieve a goal, and thinking I did. Soon though it is time for action. In a few months I will return to New Zealand where I will take over my new boat, Wanderer.

She is named Figment at the moment, a name I like because everything I did in my life started as a figment of my imagination, but I believe Wanderer is more me. She is a Halvorsen Freya 39, a Norwegian double-ender that became famous for being the only boat to ever win the Sydney-Hobart race three consecutive times. She was built specifically for the Southern Ocean, and is consequently very strong and very fast.
Nerissa K, a boat that I love dearly, will come into the possession of my good friend Flavio. He's working towards sailing her solo in the South Pacific and eventually the world.
This is a new beginning, a whole new chapter in my life logbook which I am very excited about. Sometimes I felt like Laurel Hardy, trying to step back in sync with the world, after being so out of it for so long. Last year I was terribly disappointed I did not sail west across the Indian Ocean, but I knew something greater lay in store for us, a greater voyage that required just a little discipline and a lot of patience. My friend Bob Fassio, the owner of Figment is a very knowledgeable sailor and a professional ship's chandler. I liked the way he kept his boat and I fell in love with the Freya from the very beginning. Flavio fell in love with Nerissa K and that's how the domino effect started. Now I feel things start falling into place. If all goes well in a few weeks the whole deal will be finalized and I will take over my new ocean rover.
The dream is of course to head for the high seas again, this time under the umbrella of Wanderer Ocean Expeditions. I made an itinerary for 2012 which covers the best of the South Pacific. For those of you interested in sailing on Wanderer to some of the most exotic locations on Earth, please contact me at solitaire.expeditions@gmail.com

The House

2011-09-03T11:29:00.000-07:00

The house

By Marin Sorescu 1936–1996 Marin Sorescu

Translated By Ted Hughes and Ioana Russell-Gebbett

I want to build myself a house

As far away as possible

From all the things

I know.

As far away as possible from the mountains

Out of which squirrels leap in the morning

Like apostles in a clock

Naive beyond belief.

And I don’t want it on the shore

Of that white tiredness

Where I could see through every window

An enamelled scale.

And I know all the tricks

Of the plain.

What else can you expect from her

If at night she frees the grass and wheat

To grow through your ribs and temples?

In any place at all

I’d get so fearfully bored

I couldn’t even

Hang

On my wall

Pictures

The doorway would look too familiar

I’d be feeling I had to move on.

If only I could build myself a house

As far away as possible from

Myself.

Walvis Bay: The Blind Sailor

2011-08-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

I was once in Walvis Bay, in the clear, shallow lagoon nestled between the Skeleton Coast of the Namib Desert and the Atlantic Ocean, watching pelicans in low flight over the water and Laser dinghies sailing like Portuguese man o' wars outside the club house. They were a bunch of Frenchmen enjoying a calm day on the water, mining engineers on a day off from their diamond hunt. I sat on the wooden deck sipping on a cold draught, watching all this unlikely spectacle: to the north, the red sand dunes, to west a strip of sand disappearing in the sea on a hazy horizon, pelicans, an ugly oil rig in the port, containers and rusty fishing boats, and these small sails on the mirror of a windless ocean. This was one of those days when you knew time stood still for a while, just so your retina can take a snapshot for eternity.

And when they came back an hour later, I noticed an old man pulling his dinghy on the sandy shore. He wore a wetsuit and I could see how fit and strong he was. The skin on his face was sun-burnt and the white beard accentuated the contrast. He had translucent eyes and a gaze that went beyond objects, beyond light and color, the kind of look that reflects not what is there but what has been, memories of an adventurous past maybe, voyages to distant lands, memories of a life at sea, of young love in faraway harbors. He was smiling. He was content.
He was blind. He sailed by the sound of another guiding dinghy, tacking when the other tacked, rounding the buoys at the sound of a gybe, following the pack from behind, a small fleet of imaginary friends.
I thought about that man long after that lazy day under the African sun and often wondered how much one has to love sailing and the sea to find happiness even in the darkest of nights, the absolute blindness.

WHEN AT SEA, WE HELP EACH OTHER

2011-08-02T02:13:00.000-07:00

Here's a moving account of the loss of Quest, the reality of sailing the Red Sea and lessons learned from a dear friend of mine, Larry Hersman, the skipper of Journey, with whom I have spent some unforgettable times in the South Pacific isles.

Indian Ocean

"I’m in Marmaris, Turkey waiting for my “ship to come in,” so to speak. The ship, the Palmerton, will arrive here at night on the 8th or early morning the 9th, and when down loaded with Journey and 19 other sailboat, will end this leg of my around the World trip. It is not what I imagined, back in 1985 when I daydreamed about sailing across the Indian Ocean while doing menial tasks (digging ditches) during the construction of my first house. Then I though of cool breezes, long sailing passages, gentle seas - you get the picture. The Indian Ocean proved to be anything but that.

Before sailing, Elliot and I where in Phuket for nearly two weeks, getting Journey ready for a 01 Jan departure with the Blue Water Rally - an organization that had been in existence for 20 years and organized around the World Rallys 9 times before. So I joined a group that had been together since Gibraltar - a year earlier. Initially, sailing was wonderful when entering the Indian Ocean, through the Andaman Islands. Four or five days of outstanding sailing: 15-20 kts wind, mild seas. We, Shaun Williams who’d sailed with me before and Phyllis McCann, who was with the Blue Water Rally as an extra hand, were using the wind vane (a wind/sea driven self steering device), looking for the Green Flash every evening with the aid of a “sun downer”, and enjoying the mild weather.

Slowly though things began to chance as we began to experience with increasing regularity squalls, first only one or two the first day, but over the next 3 days the squalls were coming every two or three hours, around the clock. Within 10 minutes we would be set upon by 40 kts+ winds and driving rain.

Then came “the storm.” As the constant velocity winds began to pick up, I called a US based private weather prediction service, giving the person our location - his response was “Oh, that’s a bad place to be right now.” He was right, in that things got big (wind and seas) but wrong in that I’m glad I experienced it. But three bad things did happen: 1) the engine started overheating to the point that we couldn’t motor over 3 kts, 2) the wind vane broke, and 3) while changing the impeller of the water pump I got my arm stuck in the engine - for nearly 45 minutes I lay next to the engine thinking that I may have to break my arm to get it out. I didn’t, but when finally out the arm was swollen, bruised and cut from shoulder to wrist, and now feelings in the fingers. It took several days for it to recover. I’ll never reach for a loose washer again - really stupid.

Once in Galle, Sri Lanka, I finally met up with the other members of the Blue Water Rally - most I hadn’t met, but had to get the engine fixed (and a long list of other things) - it took 3 weeks. In the meantime, Phyllis decided to join her friend Bob, and owners Jean and Scott, on another boat, Quest, a much larger more comfortable boat - this would be fatal decision.

So, after getting to know some wonder local people in Sri Lanka, Shaun, Austin (new young crew member) left a week after the last of the Rally members departed for Cochin, India. However, it became apparent that we were going to have to go fast if we were to catch the Rally, and may have to skip Cochin. Initially, our route through the Arabian Sea was to go straight from Cochin to Salalah, Oman - the gateway to the Gulf of Aden. But over the next few days, while motoring (for now there was no wind), the course recommended by Rally organizers had us heading nearly due north up the coast of India, to Mumbai, then straight across to Salalah. It also became obvious that we could not stop in Cochin, so we continued as fast as possible to Mumbai. As it was, we arrived at 5 pm and left the next morning at 9 am - we never got off the boat, so never set foot in India, and we left with the last of the 3 six boat groups of the Rally. But because they were all 55 to 65 foot yachts, we could keep up with them for only a day.

In our absence at the meetings in Cochin and Mumbai, the boats had been advised by the Rally organizers as to the safest route through the Arabian Sea, to avoid Somali pirates. And so we followed their advice. Little did we know, and learned only much later - they had been advised by British intelligence that we should not cross the Arabian Sea! Yet, for reasons that are not known, but will probably be discussed in court, the Rally organizers advised us to continue.

The route now had us going much further north, to within 200 miles of Pakistan, then west to northern Oman, then southwest to Salalah - nearly twice as far as the original planned route. Quest however, sailed due west from Mumbai to Salalah. 3 days later they were captured, and two days after that they well all murdered. As you can imagine, this was devastating news - for many reasons.

I was less than 200 miles from their last known location, now motoring alone, with a suspect engine, in no wind and low on fuel. I can not relay to you the range of emotions that Shaun, Austin and I were going through. We made it to Mazarah, Oman, got fuel and left within 4 hours of our arrival. We joined up with two other boats, one, Larooba, with the Rally and another boat, Imagine, sailing alone. Guy, of Larooba, told me that I had to go as fast as possible, for there was now pirate activity along the coast of Oman. And he would not leave me alone - I was however under continual pressure from the other boat, Imagine, to go faster - faster than Journey has ever been pushed - and now I had to do it with a compromised engine. So, Guy rigged a tow line, and for 12 hours he towed Journey. We ran our engines flat out, doing over 7.2, with both of our engines smoking, mine red-lined and nearly overheating. To reduce the heat, I removed the engine cover, and to trim the boat we moved everything to the bow (as the stern engine exhaust was under water). Flat out for 12 hours, engines screaming, could hardly hear yourself think.

As it grew dark, I felt it was too dangerous to tow - It was pitch black, we couldn’t see each other due to not having on any lights - so we dropped the tow. Eventually the two other boats, much bigger than Journey, went ahead. We were now out of what we believed to be an area of pirate activity, so I told Guy to leave us (as an aside, he and Simone had their two preschool children on board - can you imagine their stress). The next day we discovered that because we’d driven the engine so hard we were nearly out of fuel - our burn rate had be 2X. So, we held up a fuel can, money and a bottle of whiskey to the next passing local, wooden, freighter begging for fuel, and twice (on two successive days) we were given 10 gallons by these passing boats - no charge. One captain, an Omani, said “When at sea, we help each other,” then he added “be careful my friend, there are pirates HERE!” We were, as now every passing fishing boat was suspect. For the next day we never let down our guard, scanning the horizon constantly, helping each other identify boats. At this point Shaun, Austin and I decided we would not sail any further than Salalah.

On 27 Feb we pulled into Salalah, the last of the Rally boats to arrive with 1/8 tank of full, and as we leaned when for the first time since Mumbai that I put the boat in reverse, thus changing the torque of the engine, a nearly severed alternator. We had driven that engine so hard the 4 of the 7 alternator mounting bolts had sheered, the remaining three badly strained. The alternator was “loose in the socket,” shaking badly, ready to fall out of place. If it had, we would have lost the engine, with no wind, in what we were then to learn was pirate infested waters. Oh my! In subsequent briefings, we learned that where we had motored had much higher pirate activity than where Quest went. In effect, we had played Russian Roulette - we won, Quest and ING (a Danish sailboat that has been captured - 5 adults, 2 children now held hostage in Somalia) lost. Not a good idea.

We held a memorial service, the day we arrived in Salalah, for our friends. It was tough. The strain showed, and by the end of the day all 20 boats decided we could go no further - and had we have know what we learned from US intelligence that day, we would have never left Thailand. But we were stuck, for the insurance companies would not allow us to sail any further anyway. We could not sail out of the harbor, so we began the process of finding a freighter onto which we could load 20 sailboats and have them shipped to somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea - very, very expensive, with prices ranging from 20 to 50 thousand dollars per boat, depending on boat size.

And so we stayed in very hot, very humid, dusty and noisy Salalah for 3 months, waiting for the ship to arrive. We were on anchor, tied stern-to a long landfill. No water, no electricity, no shower, no toilet - but, we were never charged anything in 3 months, other than the normal entry fees. Some owners stayed there for the entire three months, others, like myself escaped for a month or so, in order to maintain sanity. As time wore on, delays in the ETA of the ship were occurring nearly daily - adding to our frustration. Added to that was the slow increase in the relative humidity, with the approaching monsoon season. So, temps were over 100 degrees, with the RH around 90% - bloody hot, every day. We all would escape to the local Hilton Hotel for a few midday hours of air-conditioned relief. (I wrote over 60 pages in my book - I can now see the end of it, I’m about ½ done.) Doing boat work, and sleeping on the boat were nearly impossible - it was hot at night as well. Added to that was the noise and dust of the port. Salalah exports gravel to other countries, most notably India, to make steel. Dump trucks were going by our boats 24/7 loading ore ships. So, there was a continual cloud of dust and banging of equipment. Plus, right next to us were several Navy and Police boats that ran there generators 24/7. At all hours of the night they would start their engines and go out on patrol.

To maintain sanity we had several group activities, such as quiz night (Thurs) and bowling night (Tues) at the local bar, tennis (Fri) at the Hilton, BBQ’s and so on. For the most part the group held up and dealt with the delays. I’ve made several good friends among the Blue Water Rally participants - some really good people.

Then the ship arrived, and so began loading. It took 4 days - again extremely hot and humid. I gave up and checked into the Hilton for four days - they gave us a special rate - It was such hot work that I could no longer take trying to sleep in that heat.

Once the sailboats were loaded, I flew to Rhodes Greece, for a couple of days, then took a 1 hour ferry to Marmaris, Turkey. The ship arrives in two days, and it will take another two to down load it.

So, here I wait. As I think about this trip across the Indian Ocean, what comes to mind is the positive - that being the wonderful people that I met in the ports where I have spent time, such as Phen in Thailand, Joseph in Sri Lanka, and Soumaya in Salalah - all have become dear friends. When we left Salalah, the staff at the Hilton cried, and the staff at a restaurant we frequented gave us gifts. There were tearful goodbyes with Joseph and his family, Phen, and Soumaya as well. Perhaps the hardest part of cruising is saying goodbye to the very good friends that one makes around the World.

I’m glad for the experiences, except for the loss of Quest. I have experienced things that I had only read about (e.g., heaving to, and running bare pole in a storm - and prolonged periods of stress). I feel more comfortable with the “sea” and what it offers up - don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be in another cyclonic depression - no thanks. But, I do feel a kinship with the sea.

I’ve been in Turkey only three days and I can see that it is much the same as Thailand, Sri Lanka, and Oman - very friendly, helpful people. And, it is soooooooooo NOT HOT here! Wonderful temperatures. Lovely, just lovely. I will have Journey hauled out to be stored here until September, then I will return to continue this adventure through the Med, then crossing the central Atlantic in December, arriving in Antigua just before Christmas. I can’t wait."

Africa: Himba women and Baobab trees

2011-07-19T03:04:00.000-07:00

I almost drove my Land Rover into a baobab tree once, because I was looking at this alien creature walking on the side of a dusty country road in northern Namibia. I had never seen a Himba woman before and I couldn't get my eyes off her. This incredibly tall, red woman, barely dressed at all, walking proudly against a Kalahari sunset mader me take my eyes off the road and follow her until I almost smashed the car. I slammed the brakes and stopped the car inched from the 300-year old baobab. The woman smiled and kept walking.
The Himba live in the Kunene region (formely known as Kaokoland) in northern Namibia.
"The Himba wear little clothing, but the women are famous for covering themselves with otjize, a mixture of butter fat and ochre,^[3] possibly to protect themselves from the sun.^[4] The mixture gives their skins a reddish tinge. This symbolizes earth's rich red color and the blood that symbolizes life, and is consistent with the Himba ideal of beauty.^[4] Women braid each other's hair and cover it in their ochre mixture." (wikipedia)

Long story short, they are magnificent creatures, arguably the most beautiful people of Africa. Falling in love was easy, falling out of love would be hard if not impossible, because to this day, every time I see one of these strong, proud females in the shade of an acacia tree, selling traditional artifacts or feeding their children, I have to tell myself to look at the road ahead.

Africa: the dream of going to sea

2011-07-08T02:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I was watching a documentary about one of the infamous jails in South Africa where hardened criminals belonging to number gangs such as the 28 are spending lifetime sentences. Most are murderers, rapists, hijackers, bank robbers, no light stuff there at all. Bottom line is that they all represent the result of a problem and not the cause. South Africa was supposed to be reborn after the release of Nelson Mandela. In reality, one elite replaced another, discrimination and segregation continues, in reverse. Crime is out of control, police are helpless, and private security firms have carte-blanche when it comes to dealing with criminals, in the words of the president himself, shoot them like wild boars. The harder the hand that punishes the more gruesome the crimes. It's obviously not Mandela's wrongdoing, Mandela is a genius of humanity and wisdom. It's the newly rich, the new rush of power, the thirst for revenge and greed.
What surprised me was the statement one young man made at the end of the film:
"We all had dreams when we grew up. None of us wanted to end up like this.
I, for one, had a dream of going to sea and see the world."