The last word!

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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)

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!

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)

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

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)

Safe arrival in Darwiin !

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

Happy Birthday Rita !!

Nov. 20/08 Thursday

Okay, lets try that again - looks like a half finished blog got sent yesterday - here is the rest of it.

Happy Birthday Rita ! It's day 16 on our passage from Epi Island (Vanuatu) to Darwin, Austrailia and 34 days since I left Winnipeg, Mb. Wow ! It's really hard to believe how quickly the time has gone ! Except for a few hair-raising/frustrating experiences, it has been a remarkable adventure!

I woke up to very light winds today and some sounds in the galley. It's 5 am. and Rita is baking bread. I'm still groggy so I'm sure I'm imagining this but when I take a second look, she really is standing there. I roll over and go back to sleep.

It's her birthday and we're going to celebrate but why is she baking bread on HER birthday?? My mom's generation feels they need to work their butts off and invite a lot of ladies over for a party. My generation feels that a day to relax and take it easy and go out for dinner is nice; OR better yet, get taken out for dinner! Being that Rita is only a few years older than I am, I wasn't sure what her customs were but I did decide that she deserved a break from all her cooking. Not that I don't
love her fresh bread, we all do, but she would get the rest of the day off and we would have a party!

After a frustrating watch wrestling with the spinnaker with next to no wind, we decided to turn on the engine. I went below and baked a chocolate cake for Rita, iced it and made a poor attempt at writing Happy Birthday with a makeshift decorating bag. By then it was Happy Hour time. For weeks we had saved our last Pringles and BBQ kettle chips for this occasion. Salivating and with anticipation, we sat and waited as Bob peeled away the lid. For a moment I felt like we were on Survivor, having
just won a reward challenge as we sat there and savoured every bite!

A few beers later, Dennis prepped the veal roast with garlic, carrots and onions and I made cream corn, mashed potatoes and a mushroom gravy. Out came the last bottle of wine, a very precious last bottle, and lets not forget that Cress got an extra glass as he had bartered an orange with me for my glass. (Little did he know that I don't drink red wine.)

It was another wonderful sunset dinner cruise and Rita was very appreciative of our efforts. We all sang Happy Birthday to her and enjoyed her chocolate cake. She commented on how lucky she was to be invited on the boat so she could celebrate her birthday in this way. We all agreed and toasted and thanked our Captain, Cress for this wonderful opportunity!

Now here's the interesting part, being how I'm used to partying with my curling team, I was expecting dishes to be done (it's easier before it gets dark) and then more drinks, conversation, etc. Bob and I were on watch from 6-9 so we were ready to go! At 7:30 pm. Matt pipes up - "well, okay, goodnite, wake me at 8:45 okay? I just starred at him for a while, this coming from the 25 year old on board! By 8 pm the whole boat was dark and quiet.

I guess our overnight watch responsibilities make for short birthday parties !!

Cheers from
Jan - the Prairie Girl at Sea.

Happy Birthday Rita !!

Nov. 20/08 Thursday

Happy Birthday Rita ! It's day 16 on our passage from Epi Island (Vanuatu) to Darwin, Austrailia and 34 days since I left Winnipeg, Mb. Wow ! It's really hard to believe how quickly the time has gone ! Except for a few hair-raising/frustrating experiences, it has been a remarkable adventure!

I woke up to very light winds today and some sounds in the galley. It's 5 am. and Rita is baking bread. I'm still groggy so I'm sure I'm imagining this but when I take a second look, she really is standing there. I roll over and go back to sleep.

It's her birthday and we're going to celebrate but why is she baking bread on HER birthday?? My mom's generation felt they needed to work their butts off and invite a lot of ladies over for a party. My generation feels that's a day to relax and take it easy and go out for dinner. OR better yet, get taken out for dinner! Being that Rita is only a few years older than I am, I wasn't sure what her customs were but I did decide that she deserved a break from all her cooking. Not that I don't love
her fresh bread, we all do, but she would get the rest of the day off and we would have a party!

After a frustrating watch wrestling with the spinnaker with next to no wind, we decided to turn on the engine. I went below and baked a chocolate cake for Rita, iced it and made a poor attempt at writing Happy Birthday with a makeshift decorating bag. By then it was Happy Hour time. For weeks we had saved our last Pringles and BBQ kettle chips for this occasion. Salivating and with anticipation, we sat and waited as Bob peeled away the lid. For a moment I felt like we were on Survivor, having
just won a reward challenge as we sat there and savoured every bite!

A few beers later, Dennis prepped the veal roast with garlic, carrots and onions and I made cream corn, mashed potatoes

Thank you God, for sending us fish.......

Fish, fish, fish, fish, fish, fish, fish, fish

Thank you, God, for sending us fish.

One Barracuda (that bit Dennis, "I told you he was still alive!")

A Wahoo, that offered no resistance.

Two (a male and a female) MahiMahi, that were the best of the bunch on the plate.

Plus a couple of others that got away, ESPECIALLY A REALLY BIG ONE! (Heh, we got pictures), but we already have a full freezer.

Probably enough fish to feed six people 10 meals.

(Why does the aft cabin smell like this is a trawler?)

Bruises, Bites, Excitement, Boredom

Bruises and Bites
Since embarking on this adventure, the newbies will have great memories and some physical evidence as a result of the many spills and tumbles taken from the sudden shifts of the boat in choppy water. Each has little bluey coloured mementoes except for yours truly who has only stubbed my toes on the many pulleys on the deck. My injuries are more of the "dumbass" kind. As you will be told in another blog (Cress), we have been catching a number of fish during the passage. On the day when we caught a
large barracuda and after I thought it was dead (Matt beat it numerous times with a winch handle), it got his last death throe twitch just as I was putting the dragging rope through its gills. You guessed it, the razor sharp teeth punctured 2 little holes on the tip of my middle finger. So here I am bleeding all over the teak deck trying to get the rope through the gills using a pair of pliers (smart learner as I am) and finally getting it into the water. It took 2 days before the tip of finger was
healed enough with no bleeding.

Excitement
While successfully traversing Torres Strait in record time, Rita and I enjoyed an exciting race to a narrows near Coconut Island (Cress blog?). While travelling at a nice cruising speed of about 7.5 knots towards a narrows (3 miles wide), we were in a dead heat with a freighter (12.5 kts) at the crossing. From there we were travelling towards the next light house when the captain ordered an abrupt 30 degree change in course to use another passage route. The boat lurched to warp speed of about 8.5
knots (at night everything is magnified, even our imagination)and the boat was tilted almost to the max as we sped along. We held the boat at this course setting for 3 hours with one foot propped against the side of the cockpit to keep our balance. Once through the passage between Prince of Wales Island and mainland Australia, we set a new course and were treated to a beautiful sunrise over the mainland (our first real glimpse of another continent).

Boredom
After passing around Prince of Wales Island we set course westward towards Darwin feeling good about ourselves getting through the reef so quickly but Nature always evens things out. After 6 good hours of sailing in calm waters and nice winds, it was time for our watch again and the winds died to less than 1 knot. The spinnaker dropped like a wet rag and had to be taken in and for 3 hours we drifted in back and forth circles trying to catch some nonexistent wind. It was so calm that the beer cans
in the water were passing us. For 3 hours we were like 6 Dracula's trying to avoid the sun. All of us were wishing for a tall ice cold drink. Th weather forecast is for calm seas and very light winds. When we arrive in Darwin (23rd?)there will 2 dried prunes and 4 dried apricots stepping off.

Dennis

C is for Compassion

C is for Compassion

Wings spread, Conversations reaches again for the open sea. Her long lines run down the last of the shallow, reef strewn waters, seeking the safety and freedom of the deep, open sea. Ahead, lays Darwin. Behind us, lays Torres Strait. Nothing can stop her now. For the last 110 miles, for a day and a night, she twisted and turned her way through Torres Strait, crossing the Great Barrier Reef. This is the only route to Darwin, in north Australia, It is the only way to pass from the Coral Sea to the
Timour Sea. But the way is tortured. Already this year, two other ocean roaming sailboats sailed their last moments in these waters. A single misstep had them sail full speed into the jaws of a coral doom. All over these waters, we see lost boats lying unburied, their backs broken upon a coral killer, their bones picked clean by breaking waves and salvaging locals. "There, by but the grace of God, go I!" I can hear Conversations whispering in relief to herself this morning.

For her crew, by day, we clung to the sheets and sails, urging Conversations forward at the fastest speed possible, hoping in vain to be mostly free of the maze by nightfall. Then, by night, we stared wide eyed into the dark, trying to make sense of blinking lights and dark forms of low islands, trying not to blunder, trying not to loose track, trying to pick our way through. Safe passage requires everyone's diligence to stay out of reach of the razor edged reefs defining the passage route. It requires
all the crew's attention. And, as if coral reefs were not enough, a steady parade of great, bluff bowed steel freighters moving at three times our speed threatened to shoulder us out of our share of safe water. But by dawn, we had her beat. With a ruby sunrise over the north lands of Australia, we passed the last of the reefs, and pointed our happy boat's bow to the open sea.

Now I stand to leeward, looking forward, watching the crew set the genoa to catch the morning's promising breeze. Like Conversations, I am pleased to see the open ocean horizon unbroken ahead to the west. To steady myself against the gently building roll, I reach my hand overhead to grab the back-stay, my bare feet welcoming the secure grip of the teak boards laid on the gently slanting deck beneath. The sun is rising at my back, and even though I have been up most of the night, I am wired. I reflect
with pleasure how far we have come on this trip from San Francisco and how far the crew has come along as sailors. I reflect how glad I am Torres Strait is behind me. Then, unaccountably, I feel a tear rising in my throat. What is this? Why the knife of sadness now at my breast? Then I understand: This is the experience of success when I don't feel worthy of success. This is the experience of success rising in the face of believing I am not worthy of achieving the dream for which I have reached.
It is external reality confronting, contradicting, my internal beliefs. You see, for months this transit of Torres Passage was a threat in my mind. Knowing that it lay between thousands of miles of open South Pacific sailing and reaching home safely with our 'new' boat, it became the place in my imagination where I would fail. I worried about it. I awoke in the night from dreams of running up on the beach at full sail. At some level, I didn't believe I was up to it. But at this moment, I had succeeded
despite my lack of confidence. We were safe on our way, unbelievably, unaccountably. How could this be if I were not capable? I had to either deny reality, or change the story I tell myself.

Success, in contradicting my belief I don't deserve to succeed brings me face to face with this truth: By virtue of being, I have a right to be, and by extension, to succeed, to thrive. I believe this is everyone's truth. We are all good enough. We all have a right to be in this world. When I experience this truth as I did this morning, for me, is the felt sense of self compassion, self love and self acceptance. This is the felt sense that despite all my short comings, my failures, and my weakness,
and my culpability for bad things done and not done, I am in fact worthy. I do have a place in this world. I am worthy of life and love.

From this experience, I want to remember C stands for Compassion, especially self compassion. I want to remember that we ought to hold it always for our selves even when we do not succeed. That our self worth essentially 'is', it does not to be earned or given. It exists beyond anything we might do, or say, or believe. It does not need to be confirmed by success, by recognition, by wealth, or by someone else's love, including god's love. It is mine and yours by birth right. I want to remember, that
whatever we might say to our selves to the contrary, we do deserve to be, to do, to love and to prosper simply as a right of being born. Remember it!

C. Cresswell

mermaids, hitch hikers, feeding frenzy, who's been sleeping in my bed

This is an summary of the things I have noted over the past 2 weeks as we make our way to the Great Barrier Reef.
Mermaids
You have all probably read our encounter with the sea turtles and dugongs in Epi but I thought you might enjoy it from my perspective. Rita and I were last to jump over board after arriving at Epi. While the other 4 were already on a coral reef admiring the fish, I started swimming towards them and immediately noted a slow moving object on the bottom of the bay. I signalled Rita that we were over a sea turtle but she had difficulty seeing it until it moved a bit more for her. The turtle was feeding
on sea weed and its back blended in with the seaweed. We followed it for about 15 minutes away from the direction of the others but I yelled that we were on a turtle and the rest came swimming over to observe. Cress had made a number of deep dives during the observations. While the 4 of them continued to follow more turtles, I was the furthest away from the boat when I noticed a very large shadow or shadows moving between us and the 4 others. My first thought was Oh S---! Visions of "Jaws" went through
my brain but as I looked closer as it moved along the bottom the back fin motion was up and down and not side to side so I yelled there were dolphins under us. Relieved of the notion that we were not in danger I tried to follow the object but lost it. Anyway it was both frightening yet exhilarating to see the dugong for the first time.

Hitch Hikers
Last night on our late night watch we were visited by one of the many sea birds that have been around us since we left Fiji. Since I am no ornithologist they are classified by colour and shape. First we have the big white and grey ones who tried to land on the solar panel one evening but were discouraged by the captain as he ran out to shoo them away. One landed on the aft deck and sat there for a minute longingly looking down at Matt while he was sleeping. The second visitor to attempt a longer
stay was a little dark grey number with black wings and a light grey head. He tried the solar panel landing much like a jet landing on an air craft carrier but I was out there with the grappling hook steering him away. He finally landed on the safety rail along side the cockpit and Rita and I let it stay there throughout our shift. In fact it stayed on the rail for over 7 hours, preening its feathers and yes sh---ing all over the deck. The other birds in no particular order are the "swallow tail",
needle tail, white and black (smaller than the white and grey ones)There may be others but I couldn't recognize any others.

Feeding Frenzy
Yes we have been having a thrice daily feeding frenzy on deck. We have actually been able to enjoy eating meals together in the cock pit, not to mention "happy hour" where we portion out our daily quota of scotch, rye beer or Dubonnet. But we were also able to observe a school of tuna? and all of the above mentioned sea birds feasting on the thousands and thousands of flying fish we have been seeing since we started sailing. The flying fish hop out of the water and glide with the wind between the
wave troughs. We have seen them fly over 100 yards away from the boat. In fact some birds have been following us as our hull scares up the fish in hopes of catching them. Anyway back to th feeding, the school of tuna were ;chasing the fish from below and as th fish jumped out of the water, birds dove at them from above. I have seen similar feeding with herring "Balls" where sea gulls and eagles and salmon do the same thing. The flying fish are rally interesting to watch as we saw a large fish (probably
12"+ long) skipping along the absolutely calm water (no wind)using his tail to propel himself as it touched to surface. Most of the fish we see are about 4 inches long.

Who's been sleeping in my bed
Yesterday morning after a rather windy watch from 6:00 am to 8:00 am, Rita decided to go down for a nap in the forward berth. Since it already was very warm out, the front hatch was open. She went into the berth and yelled "look who's sleeping in my bed" and brings out one of our finny friends (poor navigation skilled flying fish). Luckily it didn't tuck itself under the sheets or we would have heard more of a scream or worse yet left undetected would have raised a helluva stink. Every morning there
are 4-5 fish "hitching a ride" on the deck.

Dennis

All's well that ends well...

Hi, everyone,

As you know, we had quite the day on Wednesday when our spinnaker got all twisted, and we had to take it in. Well, that night, on our 1800h watch, all was going well until a sudden gust of wind slammed into us, throwing us off course. As I tried to get us back on course, I heard a huge BANG which really startled me. A shackle on our vang (an arm that helps support the main sail) had broken. Of course, we called up our Captain, Cress, who just nonchalantly went over and repaired it immediately.
I think I was more concerned about it than he was.

Next morning, again during my watch, Cress appeared and immediately noticed that the shelf (almost the bottom section) of our main sail was torn, almost from one end to the other. Well, said our Capt. stoically, I guess we'll just reef (shorten) the sail in and carry on. I couldn't help wondering if he was feeling as I was, (like, what next??); but he good naturedly said, "There's a sailor's adage, 'If you aren't breaking something, you aren't sailing'". But I suppose it wouldn't do to throw in
the towel and cry -- we still have more than half-way to go to Darwin.

But I'm definitely the "glass half-full" kind of person. And our spirits were lifted considerably later that morning. As I was scanning the horizon for any sign of oncoming traffic, I thought I saw a fin in the water. Then nothing. Then another fin, and again nothing. Hmmm, I thought, must be my imagination. But then I definitely saw something large swimming toward us, just below the surface of the water and called out, "There's something in the water!". At this point a school of dolphins
surfaced and swam all around us. What an exciting sight! They swam right up to our boat before veering off, then came right back to us again and again. This show lasted several minutes, and we must have seen at last 50 dolphins. I felt that surely they must be the harbingers of better luck!

Later that afternoon, we agreed to have our "half-way celebration" a day early, as we expect to be at the first of many reef passages later today, and we won't be able to be frivolous! We all went above decks, dressed as pirates, surprising Cress at the helm. We started with appies, COLD beer, and a whole box of Pringles!! That was followed by a wonderful roast veal (Dennis), beans in mushroom sauce (Jan), and wild rice (Rita). Now what could be better than that?

We are all a bit nervous about our watches over the next couple of days, but we'll be extra, extra diligent and I'm sure all will end well!

Rita

Straightening out the blog!

Hello All,

Irena here checking in from Singapore!

I have finally managed to straighten out the blog posts that were mis-dated. Somehow Cress's computer was set to a month ahead for a while - so a few of the posts were showing up on the wrong dates. I have put them all back in order as best I could, and removed some of the duplicates.

As for me, I have been pouring myself into work these past couple of months and luckily (I suppose) it has been an extremely busy time for me. While Cress has been sailing from Hawaii to Fiji and Vanuatu, I have been traveling to Thailand, Malaysia and Vietnam for work. So, I guess we have each been working hard in our own ways - although, when I get somewhere, I don't get to snorkel and drink Kava. However, I do get to stay at excellent hotels, go shopping and eat at great restaurants (after I finish work for the day, that is!) - plus I am getting 8 hours of sleep every night!

Let's just say that is had been a difficult time being apart - for both of us. We have managed to stay in contact over email daily, and that has kept us going. That and the fact that we are both committed to getting Conversations home to Singapore as soon as possible. I will be meeting Cress and crew in Darwin for a week or so - assuming they manage to get the boat there by next weekend. From there Jan and Bob will be heading back to Winnipeg, Dennis and Rita back to Vancouver and a new crew will come on board for the final leg of the jouney - Darwin to Bali, and Bali to Singapore.

I think those last few weeks will be the hardest (for me at least). Our good friends from Singapore - who are also sailors - Cliff and Fiona, will be part of that last crew - and they have been doing a fantastic job of keeping me sane over the last couple of months. I will miss their company and their generous hospitality and will have to work hard to stay "up" for those last few weeks on my own. I suppose there is always Christmas shopping! Luckily I also have 2 adorable grandchildren to Skype with, and all of my sisters and good friends.

So, one more week to get to Darwin! I am really looking forward seeing everyone on board - but especially, can't wait to hug my very salty sweetheart :)

Irena

Yet another knot!

I was now looking up some fifty feet in the air, and at the end the starboard side of the second spreader was my next challenge on this sailing adventure...

Ok it's me again. It seems that every time I do something worth "blogging" about someone beats me to the punch. I've been at sea now for around 37 days so I'm beginning to find less and less to write about. Well, what happened yesterday was definitely blog worthy. So here I am to bring you the experience through the eyes of the 'doer.'

It was around 2:00 in the afternoon yesterday, the 12th of November, and I was sitting in the salon reading yet another book trying to pass the time until my next watch or at least until something exciting happened. I heard Cress mention something about dropping the main sail to do some work on another one of the baton pockets that had separated from the track car/slider on the mast. He was sitting in the nav station doing his radio work which meant I had time to finish the chapter and hop up and
help when he was done.

As you know, the dreaded spinnaker was flying in all it's "glory" and this makes working on the main a little trickier for both the people repairing the sail and the helmsman. The helmsman's job is to keep the boat on course, which is much more difficult with no main sail as it is the "main" contributor to keeping the boat steady. Even with all the sails up, the spinnaker makes steering a nightmare, in my opinion at least. We completed the work on the spoiled batten pocket just to notice the one
we had repaired in Vanuatu had come loose and needed a second mending. Cress thought zip ties might be the easiest solution and sent me below to dig through the drawers to find some. As I was making my way back up the companion way I heard the words no one wanted to hear and when I looked up at the bow, I saw the spinnaker was wrapping around the forestay. I dropped the zip ties and sprinted forward, avoiding the shrouds and blocks on the deck to help the Captain force the sail back around. We
pulled and pulled but to no avail. You see, once the sail gets wrapped around it is nearly impossible to unwrap. We needed to figure something out, and fast! So we released the halyard and dropped the massive sail to the deck, grasping at every piece of the red, white, and blue monster to keep it from dragging in the water. It brought me back to my elementary school days when we used to play with those big parachutes in gym class! To make a long story short (at least this part) I'll cut to the
chase. We got the sail to the deck successfully, managed to untangle it and get it ready to go up again. I wasn't in favour of putting it up again but I never was in favor of putting it up in the first place!

Just like the Genoa, the Spinnaker also has a retrieve line, which is used to (you guessed it) retrieve the sail when it needs to come down. The Spinnaker's retrieve line needs to be attached to the deck so it doesn't fly up with the halyard. Well we forgot this step and as we raised the sail the retrieve line did just that. The next few minutes were a blur.

I was now looking up some fifty feet in the air, and at the outboard end of the starboard side of the second spreader was my next challenge on this sailing adventure. The retrieve line had wrapped itself around the spreader which made bringing the sail back down to the deck impossible. The cone that contains the sail was now violently slamming against the mast with every wave. All the sails were down and we were sitting in the middle of the ocean, not moving. Someone had to go up the mast and
untangle the lines. That someone was me. Out came the bosun's chair and the Solent's halyard. I've gone up the forestay several times before to re-screw the pesky set screws that continually work there way out but I've never gone up the mast, and never under such stressful conditions. Was I afraid? Of course I was! My heart was racing and my mind was going a mile a minute. If I fall, I'm seriously injured or worse!

The first attempt to get me up the mast proved unsuccessful as I swung 5 feet to starboard and quickly returned back to center with a light thud. Cress, then being the sincere guy that he is, didn't want me to get hurt and then volunteered himself to be the one to go up. Quickly realizing that if he were to get hurt we'd all be screwed, he volunteered Bob to go up. You should have seen his face! I insisted that I go up to save Bob from the task and to overcome the fear welling up inside me.
We pondered what would be the safest way and came up with a pretty good plan. We decided to raise the main and solent, heave to (steer into the wind to stop the boat) and steady our ailing Conversations II. Then rigged a block at the bottom of the mast, tied a line around the bottom of the chair, put it through the block and wrapped the other end around the winch. With the port side spinnaker halyard lifting me up, and the retaining line reducing the chair's swing I was ready to go. With my ok,
Bob started turning the winch handle. As my feet left the deck, I grabbed on to the mast and started to climb up knowing that I wouldn't return to safety until the job was done.

After four and a half minutes of maneuvering through the jungle of stays and continually being smacked by the backwinded solent, I was at the second spreader, roughly 50 feet in the air. (Bob you're a machine!) Five feet to my left was the line that I was determined to untangle and set free. I wrapped my leg around one of the shrouds leading up to the mast to steady myself and cautiously leaned over to determine the severity of the knot. Man was it tight! I returned back to the mast to center
myself and devise a plan. At this point I became entirely present, not noticing the water or onlooking eyes below, not thinking about anything besides the task at hand. After a few long, deep breaths I took my left hand and lifted the Spinnaker halyard up to give me some slack on the knot, with my right holding on to the mast for dear life, and my left leg still wrapped around the shroud. I was able to get enough slack to begin to work the knot free. After a few moments, the knot released and
in slow motion gracefully floated down to the top of the spinnaker which was now free to come down! Thankfully, so was I. Believe it or not I was most afraid coming down as I was beginning to slip forward and out of the chair. I was no longer centered and the fear of falling rushed back into my body and I could now feel the small cut I had on my knee, and the immense heat that had now taken over my face. I shouted down to Bob to stop me when I reached the first spreader, a place to stand, so
I could readjust and get my butt to the back of the boson's chair. After settling down I continued my descent, reworking my way down the mast. My feet touched the ground and a rush of excitement and accomplishment flooded through my body. The whole process, up and down, took eight and a half minutes! It sure seemed like a lot more.

The other day Cress wrote a blog about courage and mentioned that I had said that I didn't really fear anything. That's not entirely true. What is a fact though is that I don't let fear control my life! Courage is not about having no fear it's about being able to overcome it. There is nothing greater than the satisfaction of beating a fear and coming out on top! It's a great rush! But, do keep in mind that every time I see a big cockroach in Singapore I scream like a little girl! I'm working
on that one...

Until next time,

Matt

Are we having fun yet??

(Cress)
I asked the crew draped around the cockpit "Well, gang, what do you think? Shall we go for it?" We were all gasping in the airless heat.
"Ummmmmmm" said one
"Errrrrrr" said another
"Well, I don't know, the last time we did it, it was hell" said a third
(Except for the hero of our tale, the identity of the crew shall remain nameless for reasons that will soon be self evident)
It had to be 33 degrees in the shade of our tiny cockpit bimini. All of us were crowded into the small square of shade made by the makeshift cover, trying to get comfortable. It was only 9 am, but already, we all were showing dark stains of perspiration through our shirts and hats. Finally the morning sun had risen high enough in the sky to create enough shade for us all to come up from the growing heat down below. Believe it or not, the heat of the cockpit seemed the lessor of the infernos. We
were a bit chagrined by the slow progress of passage the last couple of days, but mostly what we all wanted most was relief from the tropic sun arching above. Beads of perspiration ran down my cheeks from under my Tilly hat. I was growing desperate.
"But consider the alternative," I urged, "It could be like this all day"
"Ummmmmmm" said one crew
"Errrrrrrrr" said another
Finally, one crew piped up "Yeah, we ARE dying here folks. We've got to do something".
"Ummmmmm" said one\
"Errrrrrr" said another
"Well….. okay," said another crew, "anything is better than this, anything!"
"Yeah, I guess" said one
"Whatever" said another
And with that the die was cast. The adventure wouldn't end until and hour and half latter when Matt's feet landed back on the deck from the mast head.
We would set the spinnaker.
(Dennis and Rita take up the tale)
After 6 hrs of instruction and practice, we learned what the groan was about. Because of its size, we have to watch constantly to keep things under control. During the last afternoon watch before "happy hour", the captain noted another batten on the main sail had worn off and decided it was time to repair it as we had done on our trip from Fiji to Tanna. Unfortunately, lower the sail caused the spinnaker to do more erratic things that the novice helmsman didn't know about and caused it to wrap itself
around the fore stay. Quickly the Captain yelled that the spinnaker had to come down and all the work on the main sail halted. Because the spinnaker was twisted around the fore stay, the clews were released and the bottom of the spinnaker was stuffed down into the main galley. Two battens (2nd one was almost worn through) were then repaired on the main sail and the sail hoisted back up. With grins (forced) on the crews' faces, the spinnaker was also ordered back up. Unfortunately, the pulley rope
for the spinnaker cover was not attached to the boat and also went up with the spinnaker. Upon noting this error, the captain instructed us to lower the spinnaker. As it was being lowered, the pulley rope got tangled on the top spreader and attempts to free it were futile. Our exasperated captain looked at the first mate and said the only solution was for him to go up in the boson's chair to free the lines (no wonder the first mate groans at the mention of the spinnaker). It was a rocky ride up and
down the mast with the solent slapping the first mate at every wave motion but true to his fearless character, he managed to free the lines. He was so confident of his ability that he asked that Rita video the whole procedure (8 minutes of looking up at his ass). Finally with lines free and the spinnaker itself untwisted, she was "bedded down" for the night and sailing finally resumed.

We really put the captain's patience to the test! Instead of making any of us "walk the plank" he ordered extra beer rations for all. Let's chalk that up to experience and hopefully learn from it! (like not agree to use the spinnaker) It's with even more trepidation that we take our turns today steering with the spinnaker up.

Relieved and humbled yet again by the winds,
Dennis and Rita

Post Script:
Next day. Guess what? We have the spinnaker up again. Some people don't know when to quite. Our excuse? It needed drying out anyway.
Just wish us luck getting it down.

Sailing, sailingl..... we wish we were sailing

Day 9 dawns bright and sunny, and …… almost totally windless.
I don't mind saying, its been a bit of a struggle the last four days or so. We have been trying to sail dead downwind in almost no wind. Boat speeds have shriveled to a meager 2-3-4 knots, and our arrival time at Darwin is stretching out closer to the end of November. As of this moment we have 1400 miles to go as our scotch is beginning to run low and we are starting to re-tell our stories to one another. Our fresh fruit is gone, except for our ration of oranges which has become a currency of exchange
onboard - why, just day before yesterday, I traded my second to last orange for a Jan's glass of wine at the forth coming birthday dinner. It will ease the pain somewhat. We are down to instant oatmeal, instant coffee, and speaking for myself, instant smellyness as I dig into my laundry bag for previously worn t-shirts, t-shirts that are at least a little less worn than the one I have on. But we get through the days somehow. We are now reading one another's books, counting the number of bathing suits
Jan has brought along and trying to stay up later than 7:30 pm. We are so desperate, we have even been forced to try our hand at spinnaker flying in the hopes that we will be able to go faster and generate a breeze - but that is a tale told elsewhere.

Last night I awoke for my night watch dreaming we were sailing up onto a reef. No wonder. Bligh's Entrance to Torres Strait lies about two and a half to three days away. (Torres Straight is the northern passage through the Great Barrier Reef from the Coral Sea to the Arafura Sea that lies north of Australia and south of Papua New Guinea.) We have all been practicing steering in a straight line, because the pass is about 200 miles of reefs, currents and shipping traffic through which we will sail
a twisted path. Two sail boats wrecked on reefs this year alone as they made their attempts at the pass. We will not be joining them!
C. Cresswell

Jan and Bob tie the knot

As many of you are aware fresh water is at a premium when making these long passages so showers are restricted to short towel washes. After our last actual shower at Port Vila just before we departed some of us have used the bucket off the back of the boat to wash with salt water then quickly rinse with a little fresh water. After 6 days at sea Jan felt she needed to wash and asked Bob to help her. "Imelda" emerged from the companionway wearing one of her many bathing suits (not sure how many she
brought but they are numerous and colourful), Bob followed and off to the aft they went. The usual practise is to tie a rope around your waist and secure the other end to the boat; that way should you slip off the transom while throwing out the canvas bucket you would still be retrievable. Anyway Bob slipped the rope around Jan's waist and proceeded to try and tie a Bowline knot. You know the drill: Make a rabbit hole loop, run the end up the hole, around the tree then back down the hole. After many
failed attempts, Bob took the rope off of Jan and practised on the wind vane post until he got it right. Back to Jan's waist two loops around then attempted to knot. Two tries later with some coaching from Captain and needling by the rest of the crew Jan was ready for her wash. Next was Bob's turn so Jan wrapped the rope around Bob and did her imitation of a girl guide knot tier. Her first attempt was some concoction of loops over, under and twist that she felt should hold Bob. With many more barbs
of who trusted who the most the Captain had to step in and also guide her through the rabbit and hole trick. Now that they have experienced the salt water bath I'm sure there will be plenty more trepid (timid) moments for the pair as the journey progresses. Dennis

Tasso's Kava Buzz

I sat down in the Paradise Sunset Bungalow's restaurant looking down at the massive meal that Jan described in her last post feeling quite good after a few beers and a bowl of Kava. As this was our last night I wanted to go out in style (messed up) so after five minutes from the first bowl, and not feeling anything but a weak buzz, I looked across the table at Cress and said, "Captain, how would you feel about another bowl of Kava?" He didn't reply in words but swiftly rose from his seat to join
me outside to finish off the bottle Tasso so graciously provided for us. "It would be a shame to waste," I said to myself trying to justify my urge to feel the true effects of Kava for the first time. As you all know we've tried it before, but had experienced little, if any effect. We ventured outside the restaurant with grins on our faces anticipating what we've heard all about the Kava experience both knowing deep down that this stuff was somehow different, somehow more potent. I looked at
the remaining "grog," as the Fijians call it, and of course offered the first bowl to the Captain. He slugged it back with a slight grimace on his face, reached for the remaining half-eaten watermelon to clear the horrid taste from his mouth, chewed, swallowed and that was the end of it. Tasso then rinsed the bowl, and proceeded by pouring every last drop back into it and handing it to me. Still feeling nothing but a weak buzz and a strong sense of excitement I looked down at the much larger portion,
drank the bowl clean, reached for what was probably the same half-eaten chunk of watermelon, had a bite, chewed for a moment and spit the chewed remnants onto the grass. I gave Tasso a generous pat on the back and Cress a slight smile as we ventured back into the restaurant to enjoy our massive feast. This sit down was a little different...

I sat down in the Paradise Sunset Bungalow's restaurant looking down at the massive meal that Jan described in her last post feeling extremely good after a few beers and the second generous helping of Kava. Dennis, Rita, Jan, and Bob had their plates full of the delicious looking lobster, sweet potatoes and rice, and had already begun feasting while the Captain and I were outside drinking the local delight. As I mentioned before, the first bowl of Kava had little to no effect but the second one
hit me like a freight train. The immediate effect sent me into a frenzy, my head was spinning and everything was blurry, as if I were looking thru a piece of stained glass. I peered across the table at my partner in crime, thinking that he might be feeling the same dizzying sensations, shrugged it off, and continued on trying to get the succulent lobster dinner onto my plate. "How do I get this out?" I asked Leitare, Tasso's daughter. She looked at me in only what I can think was a disapproving
manner, reached for the lobster I was struggling with and effortlessly de-shelled the entire half and graciously placed it on my plate. "tsshank yoouu" I muttered in my increasingly slurred tone. The sensation was overwhelmingly strong now, and getting stronger by the second. Trying to regain my senses I quickly slurred out a request for Jan to pass me the rest of the dishes and quickly flung what I thought were good sized portions onto my plate. My plate was full and I was ready to eat. This
proved incredibly difficult as now I was beginning to see two of everything. I saw all the food on my plate but just couldn't process what I was supposed to do with it. I knew I was supposed to eat it, I had done this several times before but I just couldn't make sense of it all. The Kava sensation was reaching new heights. I peered around the table one more time and slurred to everyone, "I'm messhed up."

I was briefly entranced by Tasso's selection of music playing in the background and all the sights and sounds around me. I looked over at the speakers and two TV's (there was only one and I thought it was quite strange that the second one was floating in mid-air) glanced around at my surroundings noticing a flurry of colors and shapes. "You're not eating anything," Dennis said with four eyes, bringing me out of my dream like trance. Oh yes, the food. I had forgotten for what seemed like hours
that I had a glorious looking plate of food sitting in front of me. I picked up my knife and fork like a first timer ready to dig in. "How does this go again?" I asked myself. I tried my heart out to bring the half-lobster into focus, slice a portion off, bring it up to my mouth, chew and swallow. SUCCESS!!! Bite number one went down with what I thought was great ease. (It turns out I was trying to cut the plate the first two of three attempts) "Oh yeah...the garlic butter, I can't forget that,"
I slurred, "Jan can you pass me the garlic butter please?" The next bite, which was glazed with the 'boat-made' garlic butter (we had to bring our own), was much tastier than the first. I proceeded to drizzle some of the garlicy goodness onto the remaining lobster and thought it would go nice on the rice as well. Things were getting easier, only it took me five times longer to do everything but I was doing it! The sensation was still accelerating like a Mustang and I was wondering when it would
plateau. I had to pee and noticed that Cress was getting up as well. I decided to sit back and observe how he was to get from his seat to the washroom without falling over as every little thing everyone was doing grew increasingly more intriguing and difficult to comprehend. After a successful attempt by the captain I decided to try it myself. I got up slowly, holding onto my chair, and the next chair and the next until I was confident I could walk. I was growing a deep admiration for the Captain's
ability to do this so well just seconds earlier, as I was struggling immensely. I stumbled to the door after a quick few steps from the last chair and I was now out in the night trying to navigate the most simple route to the toilet. I knew from past experience that toilet number 1 was on the left of a small building just outside the restaurant. When I got to the toilet, which was occupied by Cress, I realised I had to find another option quickly. I decided to pee in the bush, which was actually
an open section of grass and most likely a path of some kind. (I knew there was a second toilet behind me but this just seemed like the easier of the two options) I made my way back to my seat and to my bewilderment there was a full plate still sitting in front of me. "You haven't eaten anything!" Dennis said again. "I know," I muttered to myself and was ever more determined to overcome this gut rot and eat like I had never eaten before. I feasted for what seemed like days but the food wasn't
leaving my plate. Bite after bite, taste sensation after taste sensation. I was doing it. Growing increasingly bored of the food on my plate, after the lobster was gone, I decided to move onto the fruit kabobs. They were delicious and with the array of shapes and colors, extremely fun to eat. The "high" had now begun to subside and everything was beginning to seem much easier, the surrounding less and less doubled and the tapioca meringue pie staring at me across the table. Feeling incredibly
full, and incredibly ill, I decided I'd have to try a piece, as Tasso and his family had worked so hard to prepare everything for us. Delicious, and a great end to one of the most memorable meals I've ever had.

Being able to walk now we made our way to the dingy and back to the boat saying goodbye to the land that had treated us so well the previous weeks, to start our three week journey to Darwin. I hope you've enjoyed the Kava experience from the doer opposed to the observer as Dennis wrote about. It was a remarkable experience and I recommend it for everyone. I'd say skip the Fijian Kava and go straight to Lamen Bay, Vanuatu. Talk to Tasso and he'll take care of the rest. Make sure you wait a little
bit after the first bowl or you'll experience what I did above.

Feeling better and seeing straight,

Matt

C is for Courage

"Are you ever afraid?" she asked.
As I stood there, beer in hand, looking down on this diminutive young Singaporean woman, I could help but admire here for getting right to the point with her question. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement and the corners of her lips were smiling.
'What was this about?' I wondered.
She rushed on with her question: "Like when you are way out of sight of land, and the wind is wild, the waves are huge, the boat is filling with water and …..
"Whooah there" I said, "I think you have the wrong idea!" I recognized this is the most common question I get about offshore sailing, thanks to TV and Hollywood.

We had struck up a conversation at the "appys" table. It was a networking event - I think it was the American Association in Singapore - and I was standing over the appetizers table trying not to make my relish for all the goodies too obvious by piling my plate too high. I was also trying to figure out how to balance a drink, a napkin, a plate piled high with cream cheese and lochs and cheese on crackers. And, as if this where not enough, I was trying to figure out how one can be expected to eat
with a folk, not with your fingers, as is the accepted custom in Singapore, all the while carrying on a polite conversation without a mouthful of food. Talk about fear! This all seemed at the moment a much more daunting task than any calamity I had ever experienced sailing.

I went on. "In my whole life, I have never, ever, been caught in a real storm." I explained. "It's rarely like that. Sure we get soaked frequently by the squalls, and we do get small storms once in a while, but I am more afraid of lightening, and that's because if my GPS ever gets fried, I am pretty sure I don't remember how to use a sextant!"

Her excitement faded. She looked disappointed. I could see I wasn't shaping up to be the hero she thought I might be. 'Oh well', I thought, I still have all this great food!

Its now months later, and several more thousand more sea miles behind me, and still no great storm has ever come down upon me. But I am still thinking about her questions, about being afraid. So I am just back from going on deck to ask some of my crew "Are you afraid, and did it take courage to come on this trip?"

Funny, but none of them said very much about fear or courage, rather they spoke about risk and curiosity. For different reasons, they were all curious about what it would be like to do this trip. Dennis was curious what it would be like to be a "pin in a bathtub", a tiny spec on a great open ocean with big waves. Bob wanted to learn about sailing and was curious about how he would handle being on the foredeck during a storm. Jan was curious about what it would like to be at sea for 3 weeks, 'trapped'
on a tiny boat with the same five people! Matt said being afraid never occurred to him.

I was still hoping to hear more about courage so I asked "What then, made it possible for you to choose to risk in order to satisfy your curiosity about sailing".
In their answers, they all said they were accustomed to risk in their lives. It had been a part of their work, their personal circumstances and around their financial security, so compared to some of the things that had happened before, this was nothing! They were practiced at risk taking.

'Okay' I thought, 'this is making sense'. You see, I have this theory about courage. Courage is what we develop by taking risks. I was hearing from the crew that courage is the practiced ability to act, to make choices, to risk, in the face of our fear. In a way, we build courage by risking choices that give us what we want, even though we have fear about an uncertain outcome "Feel the fear and do it anyway" as they say. My crew are all practiced risk takers - they have courage - so coming on a
trip like this was possible, if not easy, for them. Jan also said "I know from experience opportunities arise at the right time in our lives. Even though I feel some fear about it, I have learned to take advantage of it by going for it even if I am a little afraid."

I believe most people mistakenly think courage is the absence of fear.
Because we are all afraid, many of us mistakenly believe we are not very courageous, so we limit our choices when we tell ourselves this story. It helps if we let our curiosity reign more often. The more curious we are, the more likely we are to learn to act with courage said my crew.

To be honest, if I think back to my networking conversation with the young Singaporean at the American Association, what I didn't say at the time is that I am frequently afraid at sea, even when there is no real cause for alarm. Think of me as the real "chicken of the sea!" I will make myself afraid when something goes bump in the night along the hull, something breaks on deck or I receive a weather forecast for bad weather. But over the years I have developed a love hate relationship with fear.
Fear is uncomfortable at the time, but I know it's a bit of a rush afterward and it makes the accomplishment of a passage more worthwhile, interestingly enough.

But most significantly of all, I have learned if I am willing to put up with the discomfort of fear, I can do anything I want! Not bad for such a big chicken, eh?

C. Cresswell

C is for Companionship!

"What's it like sailing with so many newbies?" asked Anna-Christina.
It was mid morning and we had just backed Conversations II's stern up to the dock and tied her up Mediterranean style, maybe ten minutes ago. As is the fashion common to cruisers, Anna-Christina had strolled down the dock to lend a hand and welcome us to Port Villa.
Anna-Christina looked like a sailor, like a long time cruiser. In the morning sun, I noticed her long blond hair was beaded and that she was a deeply tanned and healthy looking woman about middle age. I learned right away she was French and a crew member of a neighboring boat soon to be sailing to New Zealand to dodge the cyclone season. It hadn't taken her keen eyes and ears long to gauge the experience of our crew during our docking, but I was a little surprised by directness of her question. Though
they had handled it pretty well, it was the first time most of them had done this. 'God bless the French for speaking their minds' I said to my self.
"It's great to have newbies" I said to her, "They learn to do it all my way, and I am the ultimate control freak" I joked.
She smiled.
"No really" I went on, "As you know, it's the character of the people you put to sea with that makes the difference."
She nodded, smiled and started to share something of the character of her skipper and fellow crew mates.

After a while I excused myself and went back on board to tidy up and plunge into the long list of stuff to be done when first alongside. But her comment stayed with me. Anna-Christina was right. Many of my crew are novice sailors. Not coincidently, many of them have asked me the same question in different ways - "What's it like to sail with so many inexperienced sailors?". Of the six crew we had on the first passage from San Francisco to Hawaii, only one crew member had any experience sailing offshore.
On the passage from Hawaii to Fiji, only two of four crew had some experience sailing onshore, but very little offshore experience. On the present passage to Darwin from Vanuatu, everyone except Matt, who now has two passages under his belt, are new to sailing.

Fellow cruisers are also a bit taken aback when they learn there are five, six or seven of us on board. "How do you ever get along with so many people?" they all want to know. But that's the thing - it helps that there are a lot of them. With so many crew, I don't stand my own watch for the first while until everyone gets accustomed to steering and looking out for weather and other boats. So I do a lot of teaching and a lot of explaining, and some shouting from one end of the boat to the other! And,
at night, I am up for just about every watch long enough to get things sorted out, then nap in between. If these passages were difficult passages, this would be tough, but trade wind passages are usually pretty gentle.

But the real key, as Anna-Christina and I agreed, is the character of the people onboard. It takes a lot of maturity to show up in this environment. It's tough to be a beginner 24/7, to get used to sleeping only 4 or 5 hours at a time, to be up every night for 3 hours to stand watch, and to be away from all the comforts of home and work. It's tough to volunteer to do the cooking in a swinging galley, to wash up the dishes then stumble around on the foredeck in the middle of the night gybing the monstrous
spinnaker poles this boat carries. And it's got to be realty tough taking orders all day long from yours truly! But we really are having fun because we all have the character to show up and work together.

The other thing about having lots of crew is this: Everyone has something special to contribute. Some turn out to be great cooks, a contribution never to be underestimated at sea. Others are quick to learn how to steer and manage the sails. Others are able to restore the constant stream of broken equipment that is a part of sailing. Everyone brings their unique contribution to the mix and we sail happily on. I guess it comes down to this: Passage making is a team sport. Whether such a venture is
a success (its fun) or a failure (we want to kill one another or jump overboard, depending on our style) stands on our learned capacity to self manage and show up and contribute as we can.

I cannot resist the analogy for life and work. To the extent we are Captains of our own lives or careers, we have the opportunity to choose carefully the people we bring onboard for our passages, whatever that might be for all of us. We need the right mix of talent on our 'boat'. We need people around us whose journey, interests and passions parallel and compliment our own. We benefit if we surround ourselves with people in whose presence we learn and with whom we do our best work. Thee opposite
is true too: We suffer when we spend time with people who drain our energy and confound our purpose. Like a Captain chooses his or her crew for fit and character, we benefit if we are strategic in surrounding ourselves with people whose presence in our lives is a compliment to our journey, and move away from those who are not. Hang out with cool people, have fun and succeed. It doesn't happen by accident.

I didn't spend too much more time in conversation with Anne-Christina after that first meeting on the dock, but I watched her around the place and noticed her knack for meeting people. Independent, yet interested in people, she seemed to check out everyone, and then pick who she spent time with. She looked like she was having fun to me!

C. Cresswell

A day in Paradise - aka Epi Island

Nov. 4, 2008

As you recall a few days ago Dennis wrote and talked about Kava and said someone else would tell you about the rest of that day? Well, here it is, finally. Hope the sequence of days you are receiving aren't too out of order.

After a stressful evening watch, my six hour sleep gave me a whole new outlook as I prepared to tackle my next watch at 3am. Dennis and Rita had had an uneventful watch and Natasha was set so we started out stress free. It was a star filled night with a crescent moon, light winds and no big swells, so everyone was happy, including the people who were trying to sleep below. It was one of our best watches ever. By 4:30 am the sky was starting to lighten up and we could see that we were running
parallel to one of the Vanuatu islands. The trip from Port Vila to Epi Island should be 80 nautical miles.

It was so calm and quiet and peaceful and at approx. 5 am we saw a beautiful sunrise (some at home might say my first one, ha ha) coming up over the mountain. We had dropped our boat speed down to 2 kts so we put up the Genoa and off we went again. By 6:30 am everyone was awake and we all took turns uuwing and ahing (are those words?) about the beautiful scenery ahead. I was not tired so I stayed up for the french toast Dennis had prepared.

By 7:30 am we were anchored in Lamen Bay at Epi Island. From the boat this island looked mostly uninhabited and all we could see was a few small one story buildings, a long spanse of beautiful beach, a few volcanoes and rainforest covering most of the island. What a gorgeous place to spend a day ! (or a week) It was hot already, with a small breeze which gave some relief. A bigger relief would be a swim in the beautiful azure blue water and it was all there for the taking. We swam to the nearest
reef to snorkel. I was impressed with the coral formations and all the fish. You could swim through channels with 10 - 20 ft walls of coral on either side. A massive head of brain coral, some reindeer coral and many other types with colored tips, names which I didn't know. I surface to hear Dennis screaming. There are dolphins over here - two of them! He sounds winded and I take off as quickly as I can in his direction but to my disappointment they were gone. He was still breathing quite
heavily when I got there. I wonder if he thought they were sharks?? We were all totally pumped now and were hoping they would return to the bay. In the meantime others from our boat were discovering giant sea turtles all over the place. Some were feeding on the plankton at the bottom, so we could watch them for a long time. Others swam by quite quickly.

We all took a break and went on board. Suddenly Rita spotted something. A brownish, arched back surfaces. Maybe the dolphins are back. No, it's not a dolphin, dolphins would be grey, it must be a dugong. We read that they frequent this bay. That must be what swam by Dennis earlier. It disappeared underwater and then would resurface again a few hundred feet closer to us. Cress was in the dinghy checking out the coral reefs so we yelled at him to come back, giving him directions as to where
to see the dugong. People jumped off the boat left and right, swimming furiously in the direction of the spotting. It was angling towards shore. By then Rita and I were in the dinghy with Cress. A dinghy with a motor should be faster than the crazy men out there swimming! What were they thinking? Dennis stayed on the boat wildly shaking his arms all over the place, giving us directions. Both arms pointing straight out and ahead, he looked like he was bringing an airplane into a terminal!
My view from the dinghy showed total chaos! At this point Rita and Cress also went overboard. "It's right there in front of you", Dennis yells!

Okay, now it's decision time. Do I also jump in with my goggles on and take the chance that the dinghy will float away or do I do the responsible thing, stay in the dinghy and miss an opportunity of a lifetime ? !! I grabbed my goggles and the dinghy rope, jumped in and pulled the dinghy with me with my head under water. That's when I realized I had not turned off the motor... but it was in neutral, so singa nalinga !(no worries in Fijian lingo) Besides, I had other more important matters at hand.
There it was - about 40 feet in front of me! A large grey, very large grey sea cow swimming away from me. I wanted to see it, yes, but I didn't want a close personal encounter so this was good ! I preferred to see his backside than meeting him face to face!

Back on the sailboat there was much chatter and excitement. Everyone of us had seen the dugong from varying distances. That, together with swimming with giant sea turtles and snorkeling the reef made this day a huge success and it wasn't even noon yet. There would be more to come. What a great decision on Cress' part to take a little detour to Epi Island.

Now we decided it was time to explore the island. All six of us hopped into the dinghy and headed for shore. I drove and was razzed that I was driving the dinghy just as "straight" as the sailboat ! And to think I have to put up with these people another 3 weeks ! :) The minute I stepped foot on Epi Island I knew I would have many great picture opportunities. What a gorgeous place! Turquoise water, black (well greyish) sand, colorful fishing boats on shore, huge trees and lots of flowers.
We thought if we were lucky we could buy a a cold beer or have some lunch with/from the villagers. One of the 1st women I met was standing next to an old wooden table which was next to a primitive looking shack. She had cooked a massive pot of rice (enough to feed a small army) and was dishing it into large bowls to be distributed throughout the village. I also noticed a school in the distance. I asked her how many people lived in the village and she didn't know but she said she was in charge
of cooking all the rice and it was a lot.

In the meantime, the rest of the crew had found a building that looked like a local "food gathering" place or maybe a restaurant. Then I saw a sign stating Vanuatu Tusker beer, rum, Fanta and Sprite, so we knew we were in the right place. A woman come in and when I asked her if we could buy drinks, she said we had to wait for Tasso, the manager. Tasso ran 4 bungalows rentals for tourists and the restaurant. He told us they had caught a lot of lobster this morning which were suppose to be a welcome
dinner for some Japanese tourists. Turns out they would not be coming tonight, would we care to come for lobster tonight? Well, it took about 2 seconds to decide. What could be better than a fresh lobster dinner cooked in a traditional Ni-Vanuatu village by the local people? We were to come back at 5 pm for "frozen" beers, as Tasso called them, and some Kava and then dinner. I looked around the group and it seemed like a few of them were a lot more excited about drinking the "dishwater" than
I was.

Tasso asked us if we wanted a tour of his yard, which was just behind the restaurant. He had a pineapple orchard - pineapples 10 pounds in size, the likes I had never seen before. He also grew vanilla beans, Kava, pommelo fruit (like oranges) Ni-Vanuatu cabbage, papaya, mango and more. We would be enjoying many of these freshly picked tonight. We went back to the boat excited that this wasn't a commercialized island but one of very traditional villagers that we could interact with for a day.

Back to the boat for naps (for most) and some more snorkeling for me. I was very tired but I couldn't bear the thought of losing the few precious hours we had left. Besides, deep down I was hoping to see another dugong or some more turtles.

We arrived for pre-dinner beer at 5 pm and found out from Tasso that we needed to have Kava before beer and before dinner. I had already tried a small amount in Fiji and it tasted terrible (kinda like jagbombs!) and had no effect on me so I didn't see the point but then I thought about what a crew "bonding event" this could be. It reminded me of when my curling team was in Grafton, ND and we had to have a team bonding tequila shooter and how I hated the taste of tequila !! So I decided not to
be a party pooper. Dennis has already written about the Kava experience so I won't get into it here.

We sat outside, had a cocktail and watched a gorgeous sunset before dinner. The the evening feast included two very large platters of lobsters (10 for 6 people), yam patties, island cabbage, fruit kabobs, a very large sliced pineapple, like we'd seen in Tasso's garden earlier, and lemon meringue pie !! Talk about a feast ! All this for 1000 Vatu ($10.00) per person! The Japanese' loss was definitely our gain !

It's 10:30 pm and the boat is completely quiet. The only sound I hear is the occasional splash of a jumping fish or a curious turtle. It has been a very long, absolutely perfect day starting at 3 am. I'm not sure why I'm staying awake since I haven't slept all day but I think I needed some time to reflect. I am sitting in the cockpit with my headlamp on and everything beyond my light is pitch black. The crescent moon is visible, the only thing providing light tonight as the stars are blanketed
by the clouds. There is a nice breeze and as I sit here wondering how to describe this exceptional day, I hear music coming from ashore, the crystal clear sounds of a guitar and the occasional heavy breathing from below as everyone else is fast asleep. Does life get any better than this?

The prairie girl at sea !

Walking the plank in Port Vila

Don't get me wrong. We are not a bunch of drunks or druggies on board, but we are sailors after a fashion, and lets face it, a sailors reputation for drink in port is well earned. In our case, I am not sure, but I would guess it's a combination of relief from making it safely to shore after one passage at sea together with the dread for heading off on the next. Drinking folly starts on board with the aforementioned cases and cases of beer put on board by Al Shultz's earlier described magnificence.
And the liquor cabinet is reasonably stocked with a tantalizing array of Scotch, Rye, Gin, Rum, Baileys, my favorite, jack Daniels Sour Mash Whiskey, and few other odd concoctions that I steer well clear of. Afterall, what self respecting sailor would ever find him or her self sipping sweet vermouth? Oh well, I guess our liquor cabinet proves that it takes all kinds to sail a boat. But the on board supply is not the problem, really, the problem lies ashore and to all the temptations there on. And
here in Vanuatu in particular, there is the legal drug of choice that adds to the mix - kava.

At this point I should explain that in our present space in Port Vila Harbour we are tied stern to the dock, in the Mediterranean style. This means we have taken the considerable trouble to back the boat up to the concrete sea wall, tie our bow to a mooring buoy out front and then tie our stern in reasonable proximity to the sea wall with our stoutest mooring lines. Because the sea goes up and down quite significantly with the tides, the span between the end of the boat is kept a safe distance from
the dock for the sake of preserving the boat's back end. The span is more than a sober man can leap, and only a little less than sober man would attempt to leap. The whole configuration is complicated by the fact of the tide. We are either leaping up for the boat, or down quite a distance for the boat.

The time honored solution for this treacherous condition is to have a "plank" span the divide. In this case, the plank is supplied by the Marina operator. I guess lumber is in short supply in Vanuatu, because, though our plank is about 16 feet long, it only 6 inches wide and less than 2 inches thick. It has a nice bounce to it too, enough to temp the rash into diving board antics, or scare the more cautious crew into a quick tiptoe down its length - as in - "the faster I go, the less time I have
to fall in". True enough, but it also depends on one's sobriety. Which is the point exactly - going to town across the plank is one thing, coming home later is another. One last point about the plank: It is an easy path for rats, cockroaches and other vermin to make their way aboard, as are the mooring lines. We could elevate the plank and put cones on the mooring lines, but we are not that organized.

I should also say a word about -- kava. Here in Vanuatu, kava is reputed to be strongest in the world, including Fiji. And there is lots of it around, all legally served up in "kava cafes". Located in darkly lit streets and lanes, the kava café's are to be found here and there in the city's neighborhoods. They are found wedged the between the simple one room houses, built from cinder block walls and tin roofs. A red or green or blue light marks the spot where the cafe shack and dark dispensary squats
out back. Out front, men hang around on the dark streets, speaking in hushed tones while draped over an assortment of old cars and trucks. All around the cafe, men slouch silently in chairs and stools. From within the café shack, a silent man or woman dispenses dose after dose of kava in unwashed bowls to an endless string of returning, silent customers. It is dispensed for the equivalent of 50 Vatu (about 50 cents) for a half bowl and 100 Vatu for a full bowl. There is a kind of hush surrounding
the cafe, except for the dreadful hawking and spitting sounds patrons make as they do their best to cope with the bitter after taste. Tonight for our visit, I was glad it was dark, because the trampled dirt under foot is a mess. It would be a dreadful place to be without shoes.

Some say drinking Kava is like drinking water from a mud puddle. I think it's far worse. But tonight the second bowl of brown liquid went down more easily than the first and the reward was a lovely body buzz. The first bowl numbed my throat and mouth, anesthetizing my taste buds. The second bowl (both were whole bowls or doubles if your are curious) pretty much did to my brain and whole body what the first did to my mouth. By the end of the second bowl I was starting to the see a whole new world
of textures and colors - "gee I never noticed how beautiful that old broken down truck is". I haven't yet taken on a third bowl but I would imagine I would look a lot more like the majority of patrons - lying about in chairs, silently, some pain in their lives temporarily forgotten, the world at bay for an hour or so.

It used to be this mild narcotic was a ceremonial drink, offered by the chief, in the round or square house to assembled villagers. Men would sit alone in a circle drinking it, because the women were forbidden to drink kava. The men were instructed to sit in silence and listen to the kava. Then, they would speak with perspective on a community issue. But today kava café's seem to be the main source for a fix of the potent drug without the benefit of ceremony, contact or context. What a shame. The
cafes seem illicit, somehow like a place for lost souls, without any signs of joy. Even the usual friendliness of these wonderful people is subdued. But kava is a lovely private experience and kind of fun for the tourist when mixed with alcohol.

But I digress. Last night, I fell into an exhausted sleep on the boat settee around 8 pm. When I awoke around 10pm, I toyed with the idea of going down the plank to find the rest of the crew. But as I lay there in the dark and deserted boat, I thought of my freshly laundered bed sheets and how wonderful they would feel without the usual crust of salt. The decision was made. I crawled into my berth and went instantly back to sleep. Around 3:30 I awoke and darted into the head, noting there was no
sign of Matt in his berth - not at all and usual thing in port. As I was coming out I heard a commotion on the dock and poked my head out the companionway just in time to watch Matt approach the plank. He was saying good night to his party companion - the skipper from the boat next door - and then he turned his attention to the considerable task of getting back on board over the plank. Like a novice pilot he lined up his approach to the plank, but was off on his alignment. He tipped to the left
and fell off the plank, making a missed approach, but mercifully, he fell only onto the dock, having only made the first few feet of the plank. Unhurt and un-phased he made a second attempt, this time on his bum, his legs straddling the plank and his hands humping him up the plank and few inches at a time. That's the thing about Matt, he has an egoless way of getting the job done - there would be no tipsy bravado in a walk up the plank in his unstable state. Instead, he crabbed his way up the plank
mumbling something about "I am nasty old cockroach and I'm climbing onto your boat".
And so it goes in Port Vila as we wind down our short stay here. It has been heaps of fun, far too much beer and kava but we must move on if we are to cover the distance to Darwin before cyclone season draws too near. We will leave behind the cold shore side beer, the kava and Matt will undoubtedly leave behind some broken hearts. Now that we have all the crew safely aboard, tomorrow we will toss off our plank and set sail for the north on our first leg to Darwin.
Wish us god's speed!
C. Cresswell