Photos

Here are a few of the things that we saw when the fog cleared on our newest anchorage. More to come

The exchanging of tattoos has been one of the absolute highlights of my time here in Cape Town. It started with a promise I made to Brady, back in Durban, to finish his calf tattoo. Once that was complete, Brian and Karin wanted ink too, and then it seemed like every second or third night, someone was getting inked. We only have a few days left here, but the queue is still forming. It’s been gratifying to see my skill improve (marginally perhaps) and to share in the incredible bond of trust and openness that this ritual engenders. Huge gratitude to these special people who have shared their skin and trusted themselves to mark mine! <3

The kids eat breakfast, tell us that their schoolwork is done and dash off to see their friends. There are two kid boats here right now (Eva and Yemaya) and five extra kids mean that there is never a dull moment for them. Vick and I take advantage of this new freedom to explore the town’s coffee shops and cafes. In the evening, we go to one of the neighbor’s boats for sundowners, tattoos, or an impromptu party. Life is sure enough good! ...

The tradition of [European] sailors tattooing each other dates back to the 1700s when Captain Cook’s crew picked up the practice from the Polynesians. Since then, countless sailors have followed in their intrepid wake. I have chronicled some of my own experiences here, and here, but haven’t spoken much about how we adopted this tradition or how it has evolved in our cruising community. It started simply enough, with a proper anchor tattoo (Rocna), exchanged with a good friend on a buddy boat. In Johor Bahru, another sailor opted in, and since then, many more of our sailing buddies have asked (in spite of my strong disclaimer that I am not a professional) to exchange or receive tattoos. It’s become a bit of a thing. ...

This is where we bid au revoir to this country that has fascinated us with its warmth, diversity, creatures, landscape, and spirit. Majhunga, a city that cruisers alternately describe as “too dangerous” or “enchanting” is far from the crystal clear water of Tany Kely, but promises an easy clearance and provisioning for our trip across the Mozambique channel. Ready as we are to see what lies beyond this next horizon, I feel now that our time here was too short. There were so many places that we sailed by that I would have liked to have lingered in, and so many conversations that (due to my failure to learn the local languages) were not had. ...

Yesterday I unlocked a life achievement. While snorkeling at Tany Kely, I noticed a sea turtle. He was having a leisurely lunch on the reef far below. It was deeper than I normally free dive, but I wanted to chill with him so badly that I just took a breath and went for it.

We have seen lemurs already (in Russian Bay) but all of us were excited to have a better introduction to them at the (locally) famed Nosy Komba lemur park. The island is a weird mix of eco-tourism and authentic Malagash culture. It’s like a cleaned up Nosy Be. The pathways were all kept immaculate and the arts and crafts stalls boasted some of the best finished work we have seen in Madagascar. ...

Five years ago, a teenage girl died in the small Malagasy village of Antanambe. She was buried, as is her family custom, with all of her relatives, in a small plot cleared from the rain-forest in Verezanantsoro National Park. Here she awaits the decay of her corporeal form, so that she may finally join the spirit world. In the meantime though, she becomes lonely. The song and dance, the strong tradition of love and support that her village offered in life, is absent in death. ...

Cruising is a social experience. We hang out with our sailing friends almost every day out here, sometimes it’s for an hour at sunset, or a beach bonfire or potluck, and occasionally—if we get lucky—we strike up a friendship with a local, and get to see a different perspective on our current locale. This past week has been bomber. We had a birthday bash on Wunjo for Jean-Michel, an authentic Swiss Fondue with our good friends on Mares, and topped it off with an amazing BBQ with our new friends Herman and Jane.

Alicia, from the boat On Verra, has been organizing hikes for the cruisers nearly every day that we’ve been here. It’s one of the best cruiser services I’ve ever experienced because it helps us to see the natural beauty of the island, and gives us a much needed endorphin hit and kick in the pants to get moving in the morning. Today she took us by bus to the trail-head at St Gabriel crossing. From there we walked past the largest church in the Indian Ocean (also conveniently, the pit stop). The trail started just below the church and wound through lush forest, rock strewn pasture, and down a long slope with a stunning view of the lagoon and sea beyond. ...

There are places in the world that feel like home from the outset. These are the places where you feel yourself exhaling in long comforting sighs; where you recognize people whom you’ve never met, and they greet you as friend; where there is a familiar smell (chill in this case) to the air, and a landscape that seems ancestral, though your predecessors may never have come within 10,000 miles of the place. ...

There are places that you hear about from other cruisers, special places. Perhaps the first time will be over sundowners in someone’s cockpit, and then again online, or through the coconut telegraph. After a while, a few of these places rise to the top, they become legendary. We have had the incredible good fortune of having visited many of them, but this one, we almost missed. We had originally planned to take the North Indian Ocean route, which would have shown us Sri Lanka, Maldives, Chagos (another storied cruiser destination) and possibly Seychelles. The wind died early for that route, this year, and we missed our chance. Then we decided to go from Padang, Sumatra, directly to Madagascar, but the winds weren’t really blowing that way and we didn’t have the fuel to motor to the wind. So we lucked out. ...

Back when I was a dirt dweller, I used to buy coffee beans from this little warehouse in Oakland. The company, Sweet Maria’s, was owned and operated by a guy who personally flew around the world, visiting plantations, sampling coffee beans at the source, and then buying small batches from the best of them. I have wanted his job ever since. When I imagined this sailing adventure, I pictured myself, sailing through the world’s finest coffee growing regions, making dozens (if not hundreds) of forays into the mountains to restock my ever dwindling supplies of green beans. As the journey wore on, it became apparent to me that this dream was (perhaps) a bit unrealistic. The resources and local knowledge needed to find and visit the farms change with every locale, and the time and money needed to make the trips is not insignificant on our modest budget. ...