Cruising

I feel like I’ve been moving at light speed for the last five days. We arrived in Cairns on Sunday. Unlike a lot of marinas in Australia, the arrival was really smooth. The marina left keys for us so we could access the showers and be free to come and go at night, and they were very relaxed about check in protocols. After 12 days of passage making (with one trip to shore on Maggie) we were more than eager to grab a familiar burger at Grill’d. It was nice to finally relax and get a full night’s sleep. ...

We were waiting for a bus to take us somewhere and Vick looked at me and said “It’s kind of amazing, we just took off and now we are cruisers again. Heading off, looking for beaches or towns to explore, no real destinations…” It was clear that she expected it to take some reacclimation to get back into the swing of this. I remarked that I thought the ease of transition was because cruising is our natural state, and all the other things are what we have to do in order to make cruising possible. ...

We arrived in Australia almost exactly two and a half years ago. Pulling into Brisbane after 15 months of cruising seemed decidedly like the end of our adventure. We were trading sun soaked beaches, a persistent, intimate awareness of the weather, sundowners with dear friends, and nearly daily boat maintenance for the relative ease of city life, a stable job, and weather that wouldn’t really affect us. What I soon discovered was that it was just the start of a new adventure, one punctuated by forging new relationships, and building a life in a foreign country. Making this foreign country feel native—navigating the subtle cultural differences, finding our community, as well as coming to the understanding that all the animals that could kill us here, wouldn’t necessarily (under normal circumstances) want to kill us— was just as challenging and exciting as when we sailed through Mexico, or the Marquesas. ...

I was going to hold these for an epic post about our trip but time seems to have gotten away from us. In lieu of a narrative, here is a little photo essay!

We spent a few lovely days at Middle Percy Island. We visited the legendary A-Frame, took a long hike up to the Homestead to visit Cate and John, and the Roundhouse to visit Steve. It was a lovely island with a storied and rich history and the current leaseholders were warm and hospitable. I’ll look forward to going back on our way south. Sadly, weather and internet forced us onward. We stopped in Scawfell Island for two days, but the internet there was too sporadic to support my work, so we were northbound again. When we arrived in Thomas Island, with it’s workable internet and gorgeous coral beaches, we knew we had made it to “North Enough.” Our weeks of searching were over. From here on up to Townsville the weather will be warm enough for Vick, the connectivity conducive to my work, and the flora and fauna rich, diverse, and unusual enough to hold the kid’s interest for days on end. Here are a few photos of our journey from Keppel.

I have a hard time assigning superlatives. I tend to experience life in an abstract way that doesn’t depend heavily on specific, quantifiable metrics. So when I say that this was the best day ever, take that with a grain of salt. There were other best days. They might have been better, who knows. Not me :) Today started slowly, in the usual ways. After coffee and breakfast I headed up to the cockpit to knock a quick tiller repair project off the list. With that success behind me I focused on the horizon. ...

The first day of my fortieth trip around the sun began in darkness. No, this isn’t a metaphor, it’s 3am. Vick woke me with a kiss. “Happy birthday, it’s your watch,” she said through her smile. I’m 39. This is one of those birthdays that should feel insignificant in comparison to it’s immediate neighbor, but I actually feel sorry for 40. I mean how could forty compare to a year that starts with stars, salty kisses, sea air, and phosphorescents. ...

When I was younger (let’s just say I was 10) my uncle would entice me to row him across what seemed like an endless [Muscongous] sound to Loud’s Island, by making up silly stories about a fellow named Barfoolean Farkwar. Barf would do things like set out to sail without a sail. When he realised his blunder, he would split all of his underpants in half, and sew them together to make a stinky sail (Barf wasn’t much for hygiene). ...

It’s getting cold here. The crew of s/v Convivia has concluded that cold is stupid and, upon concluding that, realized that we don’t have to stand for it. We have a portable life and I have every programmer’s dream boss who said (way back when I was hired) that he didn’t care where I do my work as long as I do it well. So we have decided to take this portable lifestyle of ours and move to the Great Barrier Reef for the season*. We have to be back for the Logan’s visit in September, which gives us almost exactly 4 months to enjoy the reef. We plan to leave late May or early June (I want to be in the tropics for my birthday, if possible). ...

Is this even a term that non-cruisers know? If so, does it even mean the same thing? We went for sundowners on Condessa del Mar tonight. The last time we did that we were in a deserted island with 6 other boats, all of whom were sharing this quintessential cruiser experience. A sundowner is, technically speaking, a drink shared with friends as the sun sets. It’s misleading though because, more often than not, sundowners last until late in the evening. When the bugs have come and gone and things are finally starting to get cool; the stars are out and the milky way fills the sky, that’s when we start to notice that maybe we’ve stretched the event a little long. That’s when we start to realized that the crackers and special recipe popcorn we brought doesn’t necessarily constitute dinner, and maybe the kids should get to bed soon. ...

Photos after the break

“I wish everyone who knew me could know the sailing me!” I posted this on Facebook today. It was one of those thoughts that popped into my head ready to publish, and didn’t require a lot of fact checking. As the day passed though, I found myself coming back to that thought. What makes the sailing me noteworthy, why do I prefer it to the geeky me, or the business me, or the city slicker me? ...

I’ve found myself having rather candid conversations about our finances lately. Inevitably I find myself saying “we’re skidding sideways into each paycheck.” Indeed last month we made it across the line by searching pockets for laundry money. It would, if I were inclined to look at it that way, be a realization of one of my worst pre-cruising fears. Over the last week I conducted an informal survey of cruiser friends on Facebook. Of the 16 respondents 10 cited money as one of (if not the most significant) reasons that people fail to launch their cruising dreams. In About the Crew I described how we chose to throw financial responsibility to the wind, and I thought it suiting that I take a minute to let you know how that all shook out. ...

A reader on a women’s sailing group I’m part of asked if it was possible to sail the South Pacific without washing laundry in a bucket. Laundry was much harder for me than being on a boat for 24 days straight, cooking underway, or seasickness, and something I stressed out about far more than the weather, ships, or squalls. I got over my stress about laundry by finding other people, and sometimes machines, to do my washing for me. It was expensive and it was worth it. ...

It’s autumn here. I know that may not seem like it deserves its own line but you know what, it does! The year here starts in Summertime and then goes to Fall. Fall comes before Spring in the southern hemisphere. You can get all intellectual about this but until you feel it, you’re not going to understand why those three words get their very own line. The weather has been getting cooler but I foolishly keep pretending that everything is “normal.” So when Ceilydh asked us if we wanted to do a little mini-cruise over Easter weekend, my mis-calibrated brain thought “it should be getting warmer every day, why not.” The day before we left the forecast was for four days of solid rain. Lucky for us we got nearly perfect weather for the whole trip and had enough sun that we could almost maintain the illusion of the season our bodies were expecting. ...