Articles

We have been in the boat yard for two weeks now. Things are moving along at the expected pace (slower than I would hope, but reasonable for this oppressive climate). The boat is covered, and has its first coat of primer. The propeller shaft is off, the old swim ladder (which has been held captive by the Monitor for years now) is being removed and welded over. While we have the hull exposed, we are also adding glass around the keel (about 6mm at the widest point) and removing some blisters. ...

Continued from here Trying our luck, in this case meant speaking entirely in Indonesian, asking around for someone who might have a surplus, and then negotiating the purchase or trade without the benefit of local currency (which we had divested ourselves of in Belitung, as we were intending to leave the country). While we were attempting to nap, a precocious pre-teenager named Chandra paddled up in his dugout, asking for books, water, and/or footballs. We offered a few gifts, and then I asked (sensing his “can do” personality) if he could help me find solar (diesel). With the help of Google Translate, I learned that he could help, but only if I came with him right then. I hadn’t slept a consecutive 3 hours in the last 72 and the prospect of undertaking such an adventure was daunting, to say the least. ...

The last 72 hours have been some of the most surreal, exhausting, and exciting of my life. I wrote about some of the first two days’ highs and lows here. The following night and day were just as full on. Things started out calm enough that I thought I might just watch a movie on my first watch. I was into a really high tension scene in Fury when I looked up and saw buoys all around. I had just scanned the horizon moments before using a combination of binoculars and a high powered flashlight. ...

In every other place that we’ve spent an October 31st, it has seemed like the holiday would at least have been heard of. Port Villa, maybe less so, but they get enough expats and tourists, that maybe someone spilled the beans. And indeed, when Ruby traipsed through the markets with her fairy gown and Vanuatan headdress feather, it was taken as cute, at worst. Here on Pulau Parang, it is quite clear that our foreign holiday would be about the most mysterious and possibly offensive sort of festivity. So we decided to have a quiet celebration between the two boats (Peregrine and Convivia). Last night we got together (sans Vick, who was feeling ill at the time) and made arepas, and fried eggs, baked potato wedges, and watermelon drinks, while painting each other’s faces, and carving… you guessed it (no you didn’t) watermelons. ...

For the past four years Vick has not driven a motor vehicle of any sort. Today that streak ended. We picked up scooters and hit the roads of Karimunjawa to explore. No ID or paperwork was required, just a little cash and we were good for the day. We didn’t have gas, helmets, or even maps, and it wasn’t entirely clear that the scooters would start (p.s. they often did not). Google doesn’t show roads here (could be because most of them really are not actually roads). We had SO much fun!

I don’t know what exactly it is about passagemaking that brings out these feelings but it’s so common as to be a phenomenon. Despite the sleep deprivation, and subtle (and sometimes acute) hardships of crossing hundreds of miles of ocean. Despite being cramped in a small, often roughly rolling vessel with two lovely but demanding children, I often find a moment, or a long string of moments where I am just so overwhelmed with gratitude for my great good fortune that it feels transcendent. ...

We take birthday wishes seriously in Convivia. We keep presents small and homemade, as the real celebration is in the cake. Cakes are dreamed up layer by layer, often years in advance. Olive wishes for her eighth birthday were a stuffed mouse, a watch, pizza for dinner, and a caramel, chocolate, marshmallow and chocolate ganache layer cake. All of her wishes seemed totally reasonable thanks to my mom sending a birthday watch to us before we even left Brisbane. I had a stuffed mouse pattern on board, along with fabric and stuffing. I stowed a stash of Belgian chocolate under my bed in June and in Darwin I packed into my teeny tiny fridge the cream, butter, and mozzarella necessary for the big day. Somewhere along the way Olive decided on a bigger wish, “I want to see dragons on my birthday.” ...

We are sailing off the beaten path a bit in Indonesia. We skipped joining a rally and are making it up as we go along. Our pursuit is for language and connection, fresh food, day to day life, green coffee beans, handmade fabric, some snorkeling, and volcanoes. I don’t remember when I first saw a photo of Kelimutu but it has been one of my must-go destinations. Kelimutu is a high (1639 meters/ 5377 feet) volcanic mountain on Flores, deep inland near a small village called Moni. It last errupted in 1968. There are three enormous crater lakes filled with thickly pigmented water that changes color over time. Local lore says that spirits go to the lakes, and which lake a spirit is assigned to depends on the age and character of the person who died. There is one lake for young people (Tiwu Ko’o Fai Nuwa Muri- Lake of the Young Men and Maidens), one for old (Tiwu Ata Bupu- Lake of the Old People), and one for the thieves and murderers (Tiwu Ata Polo- Bewitched or Enchanted Lakes). Photos I had seen of Kelimutu were just stunning, I have a bit of an ongoing desire to see volcanoes, and since I was going to be in this part of the world I needed to figure out a way to go. ...

In Bahasa Indonesia, Selamat means “Congratulations” and Jalan means “to go” (or “road” or “walk”, but work with me). Together these worlds (Slemat Jalan) mean “Goodbye,” but as we saw the words pass above us on a number of arches in our descent of the mountains from Kelimutu, I couldn’t help find the literal translation amusing; “Congratulations on going.” This little side trip definitely threatened, several times, to not let us go. ...

“Where are you from?” they ask us. “Where is your home in America?” “How long was your flight?” It is difficult to answer and it is hard to explain in our few basic phrases. Our home has been only the boat for more than five years and San Francisco, California is written on the transom, so it’s the best answer we can offer. I think the true answer may come when I start to feel homesick. It’s the big latte at Cafe Fanny on a cold Saturday morning. It’s the vegan yuba roll ups at the Berkeley Whole Foods Market, eaten in the car after making it through the busy store. It’s the endless vegetables at the Berkeley Bowl. It’s the carne asada tostada salad at Picante Taqueria. It’s Acme bread’s big round walnut loaf worth the long lines at the Mountain View farmer’s market. It’s the roast beef sandwich I crave from Whole Foods. It’s that smell in the air in the Penny Ice Creamery. It’s the dark chocolate salt caramels at Recchiuti. Maybe home is the San Francisco Bay Area after all. ...

Nobody likes getting ripped off and, for whatever reason, it hurts me on a personal level. At the end of the day I feel that the money I have paid was worth the service I received, but I was seriously chaffed by the way I was treated. When I arrived on the beach here in Kupang, I had just about no information about how to proceed through clearance. I had read the few sparse pages in our guidebook, and had one additional number to call for a local agent. I had already paid an agent for our CAIT (AU$260) and 60 day Social Visas (AU$280 for four of us). And when the local agent here approached me on the beach and asked for US$150 I said “too much.” She insisted that this was the standard rate, and no matter how much I negotiated I was in a weak bargaining position and felt forced to concede to her rate. I later found that even the US$100 I was asking for, was more than the going rate. ...

The sky feels too low here. That was my first and most enduring sentiment about Darwin. I also have an overwhelming desire to open my photo editor and drop the exposure, turn up the contrast, add a bit of saturation, and mess with the white balance. What Darwin lacks aesthetically, it more than makes up for in hospitality. On the business side, I have never had more things gifted to me. Including engine parts (small but significant, and delivered to my door), ice cream for the kids, tiny glass bottles with a scroll for messages, and rides. The kids are free on the busses, sailing club, and generally (it seems) anywhere there isn’t a specific kids price. ...

Position: 12º 25.56’ S 130º 49.23’ E Day 4 in Darwin. Today is the day we start in on our worklist. Yesterday was entirely laundry, 13 loads, 5 hours + travel. This position report is also the first one that will post directly to forgeover.com. It’s an early trial of a new “Post to Wordpress” feature that I’m working on. All is well.

Parenting is *hard.*I still find myself waking up at night to tend to bad dreams, or bug bites, and there’s the constant sibling squabbles, and, with us, homeschooling battles. That’s not to mention the challenges of ushering our kids through their self-identification. I have noticed, several times over the busy few years past, that I haven’t really been focusing on those moments that make parenting awesome. On Lizard Island, we got our first real break of this leg of passage making. We snorkeled, and hiked and spent time together having fun. It really frustrated me that Olive wouldn’t get in the water. We know she can swim, and she is excited about her new wetsuit and mask, but she just wouldn’t take the plunge. Then one afternoon, after getting really upset about it, she and I were playing in the shallows and I started acting like godzilla, stomping and grunting, and she pretended to fight me. After a little of this horsing around, I asked her if she would like me to teach her something. She agreed, and we got her mask. I showed her how to clear her snorkel and how to put it on underwater. She was really good, and I let her know. She was visibly proud, and something changed in her. We spent the next hour or two snorkeling in the shallows and now she asks constantly when we will get another chance. ...

Today we set out for what was listed as a 2.5hr hike for experienced hikers. It was what the Australian National Park system classified as an extremely difficult hike. We were definitely worried that Olive wouldn’t be able to make it. She is not what you might call the most enthusiastic hiker on easy pitches. For this hike, I tried a different tactic. I told her upfront that this would be a tough hike and asked if she felt up to it. Of course she did, and with a little distraction* she was able to make it the whole way up and down, carrying her own weight. ...