Community

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. ...

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. ...

From time to time, in the course of my travels, people have asked me about “home.” By this they usually mean the USA in general or one of the specific places I’ve lived. When I talk about the good things, I almost always start and end with community. I tend to describe (my) New England as a place where community is valued highly, and then give specific examples of the types of activities that illustrate this value. The coffee social we organized when we lived Mountain View was one common example, but this New Year’s Eve will be my new favorite (if I can find a way to encapsulate it). ...

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. ...

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. ...

I’ve always been a pay it forward kind of guy. I love helping my friends out and I love to build community. Every once in a while I ask for help, and every time it’s hard. I don’t fully understand why, but I do know that I am distinctly averse to receiving generosity. This past week has been a learning experience for me. It started, I think, when the lights started to flicker. We nursed our failing batteries all the way across the South Pacific but when we got to Bundaberg we just let it go. By the time we arrived in Brisbane they were near dead. Then a few nights before Christmas, when Ceildyh was over for dinner they died for good. We were eating and making merry and the whole boat went dark and silent. I switched us over to the starter battery and we finished the night with light (but no music). The next morning Evan called to let me know that he could help out with some old (but hopefully not as dead as our batteries). Then the sink fell in… ...

As we made our way across the Pacific we were perpetually asking “can we spend a little more time here?” After ~10 years of putting off today’s desires in favor of tomorrow’s dream it was finally time to say “Yes, why not!” The down side to this was that we knew that every extra day we spent in today’s paradise would be borrowed from tomorrow’s. You can only defer for so long before the cyclone threat starts making your choices for you. ...

Cue creepy music. We anchored in the north east conner of Opunohu Bay along with almost every other boat that crossed the Pacific from the Americas. (big exaggeration but it paints the right picture.) It was a tiny anchorage with reefs all around and a very squirrely wind, a perfect recipe for doom (dun dun duuuuun). As it turned out we had two lovely days there with no incident. On Sunday night somewhere around 11 the wind started to build and the rain started driving sideways from the east. I went into the cockpit to make sure everything was lashed down and stowed and stayed a little longer to watch the wind instrument. 30, 32, 35 knots; it was creeping higher. Then I looked up in time to see a massive blue hull grinding down our port side. “Holy Shit!” I yelled “we have been hit, Vick get up here.” I watched in startled terror for a moment as our outer lower shroud was plucked like a guitar string, twaaaaang then saw the dinghy (which had just been smooshed between the two boats) recoiling. A moment later the dinghy’s bow was 10’ up in the air. I rushed to the shroud to fend but the blue boat was already receding, “crap, it’s going to hit the panel” but Vick was already there, lifting the precious solar panel out of harms way. As the blue boat departed the wind caught its bow and sent the stern on one last mission of destruction. It missed our self steering vane by inches and was gone. ...

There is just nothing like a small New England Town. I am sitting in a coffee shop in Damariscotta Maine. This particular coffee shop is attached to a book store. The book store, though relocated, is the same one that got me hooked on reading as a kid. The first memory I have of reading is a summer memory. It was June or July and we were staying at my grandparents’ cottage. I tore through the ancient Hardy Boys anthology that seemed to have been read by generations of Bradford boys. When I got through with the last one a peculiar melancholy overtook me. My mother, wise parent that she is, took me into town to the Maine Coast Bookstore and introduced me to Ewan Walker, the owner. He asked me a few questions and started to recommend books. ...

Vick and the kids are heading to New England this weekend to start saying goodbye to all of our East Coast friends and family. I’ll follow a week later and spend a week and a half there before we all return to Convivia to start the 3 week countdown to casting off. At this point I’m suspended in this twilight zone between the elation that this new life brings, and the stress of leaving behind so much that we’ve built (in our communities, in our relationships, and at work) and the stress of what we still must do to get off the dock. ...

This weekend we attended our last NBOG event. NBOG or Nature Based Ongoing Group, is a small community of home-schoolers and their families who strive to teach their children awareness and respect for the interdependence and interconnection of all life. In addition to being a wonderful community for Ruby NBOG has provided us with an amazing group of likeminded parents. Saying goodbye was much harder than any of us expected. ...

I just got done reading Ashley Ambrige’s new e-book You Don’t Need a Job, You Need Guts. It’s an inspirational piece in the same vein as Chris Guillebeau’s Unconventional Guides. Both authors encourage their readers to do whatever it is that they are passionate about (though Ashley claims to be weary of the term passion). Every time I read one of these books I think, yeah, I can totally kick ass in that self motivated, self promoting, me against the big bad world way. Really, I’m perfectly wired for it… until. ...

For the longest time after moving to California, Vick and I were convinced that this was a state (or at least a region) that seriously undervalued community. We were more than a little surprised to find, once Victoria got pregnant, that their was this completely amazing virtual community of parents hidden, Hogwarts style, from our view all that time. Now years after our first child was born, we’re grateful to be surrounded by wonderful and supportive friends (some even without children), and a strong community. So partly as a celebration of that good fortune, and partly to bolster and encourage a stronger sense of community, we’ve started to hold a weekly Coffee Social. ...