If there’s anything predictable about Second Life, it’s inventory loss, sim crossing horrors, lifetime commitments lasting all of a week… and another Herreshoff-designed yacht from the Trudeau Classic Sailing Yachts boatyards.

Legendary yacht designer N. G. Herreshoff (Captain Nat), when he wasn’t building America’s Cup winners, designed several club boats over the years for the well-heeled members of the New York Yacht Club – models 30, 40, 55 and 70 feet on the waterline. This time we’ve set our sights back to 1905 and the New York 30, definitely the most beloved and well-preserved of these one design-classes.  For the sum of $4,000 (close to $100,000 today), the NYYC member who bought the boat received a vessel that was ready to race and cruise, delivered complete – from sails to awnings to a sounding lead, two anchors, and full set of china for the cupboards.

Though many of the NY30s were used for cruising, with their speed, weatherliness, and ability to carry sail, the NY 30s had the sleek lines and overhangs of a racing yacht whose purpose is to go fast–and fast they did go. They were usually raced with a paid crew, two of a five man complement. In addition to the their paid salary, the paid crew shared in the prize money – one dollar for a start, four dollars for a first place finish, three for second and two dollars for a third. Those gilded age tycoons – a generous lot, no?!? ;) OK, that four dollars is about a hundred bucks today (and no income tax), but still – we are talking the JP Morgans of the world, the original .01 per-centers.

The Herreshoff NY 30 was one of the most cherished designs of the Golden Era of Yachting. Today the 30s still exist as a one-design racing class .Of the original 18, 11 are either still being sailed today or awaiting restoration. Amazing for a wooden boat over 100 years old.  And please check out the class site at www.ny30.org for more info and history.

Our New York 30

The Trudeau interpretation is, like everything in SL, somewhat scaled up – our 30 is actually closer to a 50. Like the real life original, she’s sloop rigged with a loose club on the jib. Naturally, her sails feature the Trudeau Tru-Sail luffing animations. For extra oomph, wing the jib out on runs (NY30 is command compatible with our other gaff sloop, the Trudeau 12).   You might notice the lack of reeflines on our model and in the historical photo at the top of this article. As Herreshoff historian Maynard Bray tells it, “…for more than a century now New York 30s have been raced and sailed in all kinds of weather, and, with their original gaff-sloop rigs, enjoyed a reputation for never having to the reefed, no matter how hard it blew.”

Customers have asked for a version of our popular Knockabout gaffer sloop (with a cabin and vee-berth that sleeps two), but somewhat larger. Well, here she is!  The NY30 is the largest Trudeau non-attachable with a full cabin (she sleeps 4!) and we’ve emphasized that feature with easy access to a plethora of animation selections. In addition to the skipper (sit location, the usual – tiller. Or anywhere on the deck or hull), there are 4 crew/passenger locations – the cockpit coamings, the cockpit tub edge, the cabin house top, the forward deck hatch. The sitter is presented a menu of redirected sit locations/animations.

Touch the sat-upon prim to redisplay the animation menu. Try them out! (you’ll find some may overlap). Selecting the “crew” option choice gives the crewperson the opportunity to help trim the boat for maximum performance in the usual Trudeau fashion, shifting their location from port to starboard (3 increments per side) using the keyboard L-R arrows. As also in the real life original, The Trudeau NY30 can carry a complement of 5 – skipper plus 4 crewpersons (you decide how much to pay your paid hands!)  There are other animations to help those paid hands earn their pay (mop and bucket included)

The cabin, outfitted in Edwardian period-correct raised panel joinery and tufted upholstery, is the place for relaxing after a day of sailing or upkeep for owner and crew alike (just remember, two is company, three is… well, there’s room for three… and four, too!). The cabin windows are scripted to alternate between glass and curtains for “privacy”.

Customization and Template Links

There are 7 built-in color combinations, all actual traditional color schemes found in the RL Herreshoff fleet of yachts (yes, even that green2!). But as always, Trudeau provides you with texture templates for those who wish to make their own:

Hull and Rudder (2.4MB)
Sails (9.8MB)
Name (205KB)

(please look in your “Sailing the Trudeau New York 30″ notecard for example script and notecard for overriding NY30′s built-in sail textures)

Extra Goodies

The Trudeau New York 30 has built-in mooring buoy (yes, those are half-hitch knots making fast the lines ;),  cradle autorezzed over the hard, half-hull display model for your SL home.

The New York 30 is available for your inspection at all-new Trudeau boatyard (use the SURL below). New York Yacht Club membership not included – who needs it!

Trudeau Classic Yachts

Dimensions

Land impact – 32 prims (sit locations for skipper and a crew of four)
70ft (21.4m) LOA, 47ft (14.3m) LWL, 12.5ft (3.8m) beam, 10.1ft (3.1m) draft. (yeah, she’s big)
Cradle – 22 prims

Special thanks, as always, to Bunnie Mills for her exquisite modeling work and help in making this boat a virtual reality!

Sailing has been in Debbie Capozzi’s blood since childhood. As crew member or skipper, this woman knows how to maneuver through traffic, utilizing only wind power. Finishing in seventh place at the 2008 Olympic Yngling competition, Capozzi brought that experience home with her, determined to hone her skills at the tiller. In 2012, first place has been a consistent companion to this sailor.  Her most recent win at the US Olympic Sailing Trials wasn’t a solo act, though. Capozzi will represent the US as a crew member with Molly Vandermoer, lead by Anna Tunnicliffe, Olympic gold medal winner in Beijing—a formidable team.

from:  http://bleacherreport.com/articles/1187303-summer-olympics-2012-xx-athletes-who-will-become-americas-next-stars-this-su/page/7

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Molly Vandermoer was born on April 13th, 1979 according to http://www.saltwaterpr.com/Content/Story/2011/ExtraMaterial/5313-201166-182037.pdf

April 13th, 1979

4 + 13 +1+9+7+9 = 43 = her life lesson = Congratulations.  Celebrating.

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April 13th, 1979

April 13th

4 + 13 +2+0+1+2 = 22 = her personal year (from April 13th, 2012 to April 12th, 2013) = Lucky.

22 year + 7 (July) = 29 = her personal month (from July 13th, 2012 to August 12th, 2012) = Teamwork.  Cooperation.

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comprehensive summary and list of predictions for 2012:

http://predictionsyear2012.com/

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discover some of your own numerology for FREE at:

http://numerologybasics.com/

—————————————————————————————–

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—————————————————————————————–

learn numerology from numerologist to the world, Ed Peterson:

https://www.createspace.com/3411561

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—————————————————————————————–

Sex Numerology available at:

https://www.createspace.com/3802937

Sailing has been in Debbie Capozzi’s blood since childhood. As crew member or skipper, this woman knows how to maneuver through traffic, utilizing only wind power. Finishing in seventh place at the 2008 Olympic Yngling competition, Capozzi brought that experience home with her, determined to hone her skills at the tiller. In 2012, first place has been a consistent companion to this sailor.  Her most recent win at the US Olympic Sailing Trials wasn’t a solo act, though. Capozzi will represent the US as a crew member with Molly Vandermoer, lead by Anna Tunnicliffe, Olympic gold medal winner in Beijing—a formidable team.

from:  http://bleacherreport.com/articles/1187303-summer-olympics-2012-xx-athletes-who-will-become-americas-next-stars-this-su/page/7

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Debbie Capozzi was born on July 9th, 1981 according to http://www.odusports.com/sports/c-sail/mtt/capozzi_debbie00.html

July 9th, 1981

7 + 9 +1+9+8+1 = 35 = her life lesson = Perseverance.  Stamina.  In it for the long haul.

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July 9th, 1981

July 9th

7 + 9 +2+0+1+2 = 21 = her personal year (from July 9th, 2012 to July 8th, 2013) = On the world stage.  For all the world to see.

21 year + 7 (July) = 28 = her personal month (from July 9th, 2012 to August 8th, 2012) = Unstoppable.

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—————————————————————————————–

comprehensive summary and list of predictions for 2012:

http://predictionsyear2012.com/

—————————————————————–

—————————————————————–

——————————————————————

discover some of your own numerology for FREE at:

http://numerologybasics.com/

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

learn numerology from numerologist to the world, Ed Peterson:

https://www.createspace.com/3411561

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

Sex Numerology available at:

https://www.createspace.com/3802937

Sailing has been in Debbie Capozzi’s blood since childhood. As crew member or skipper, this woman knows how to maneuver through traffic, utilizing only wind power. Finishing in seventh place at the 2008 Olympic Yngling competition, Capozzi brought that experience home with her, determined to hone her skills at the tiller. In 2012, first place has been a consistent companion to this sailor.  Her most recent win at the US Olympic Sailing Trials wasn’t a solo act, though. Capozzi will represent the US as a crew member with Molly Vandermoer, lead by Anna Tunnicliffe, Olympic gold medal winner in Beijing—a formidable team.

from:  http://bleacherreport.com/articles/1187303-summer-olympics-2012-xx-athletes-who-will-become-americas-next-stars-this-su/page/7

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Anna Tunnicliffe was born on October 17th, 1982 according to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Tunnicliffe

October 17th, 1982

10 + 17 +1+9+8+2 = 47 = her life lesson = Famous.  Internationally known.  Legacy.

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October 17th, 1982

October 17th

10 + 17 +2+0+1+1 = 31 = her personal year (from October 17th, 2011 to October 16th, 2012) = Competing.  Rising to the challenge.  Personal best.  Outdoing herself.

31 year + 7 (July) = 38 = her personal year (from July 17th, 2012 to August 16th, 2012) = Taking care of herself.

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—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

comprehensive summary and list of predictions for 2012:

http://predictionsyear2012.com/

—————————————————————–

—————————————————————–

——————————————————————

discover some of your own numerology for FREE at:

http://numerologybasics.com/

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

learn numerology from numerologist to the world, Ed Peterson:

https://www.createspace.com/3411561

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

—————————————————————————————–

Sex Numerology available at:

https://www.createspace.com/3802937

Sea Dragon, a 22 metre boat, has on its deck all the gadgets I’ve seen on movies – sails, a steering wheel, winches, ropes and an anchor. I felt like I was looking at a maths equation and wondered how all of these tools were going to add up. Dale interrupted my daydreaming by telling us to start with the trip’s preparations. Boy, what a day of extreme learning! We scrubbed every inch of the boat and washed all the food to avoid the possibility of bringing on any cockroach eggs.
I felt anxious and excited as I realised that cooking, cleaning, sleeping and even visiting the ladies will never be the same again. It takes effort. The fast-paced living I was used to, will count for nothing out here.
Everything is so well organized on the boat. Stiv Wilson and Clive Cosby (skipper) gave us a quick lesson of all the equipment on deck. There are so many names for so many different ropes and poles and pulleys. Eish. I received my ‘foulies’ – the foul weather gear consists of a massive navy blue waterproof jacket and pants which you’d normally wear in the rain or at night. I also received my life vest, which is attached to a safety harness that attaches you to Sea Dragon when the sea gets rough. It has all the safety equipment you could need if you were somehow to go overboard.

The first night out, the sea was very quiet because we hadn’t started sailing yet. The Five Gyres crew told their exciting stories of storms and heavy rain on previous trips and I felt my cheek twitch from being a bit of a nervous wreck. But somehow, in between the adrenaline rushing and pumping, I felt at home and at peace. This journey was going to change my life.

Sea Dragon gadgets

On behalf of myself and all the crew of H.M.B Endeavour I would like to take the opportunity to thank all of our voyage crew, volunteers, port authorities, project partners, sponsors and communities for an epic voyage of a life time around Australia.

It has been your patronage that has made this possible. There have been so many memorable experiences that I have been very humbled by and has made me proud to be part of this voyage. I hope that your involvement in our ambitious project fulfilled your expectations.

Until next time, fair winds.

Your aye Captain Ross Mattson

Please find the following statistics of our adventure:

• The ship has sailed 13,300 nautical miles
• 706 voyage crew have sailed with us with 20 different voyage legs
• 75,720 people visited the ship in 15 ports, including 18,446 school students
• 816 volunteers assisted with guiding and shipkeeping all over Australia
• 23,000 kms has been travelled by our shore Truck Over
• 800 media stories published making headlines around Australia

At the beginning of May, the harbor was empty, quiet and peaceful. But slowly boats are starting to make their 2012 debut on the water, filling in the cans one by one. Sailors are appearing on decks, getting their sails up and ready to go out on the lake, looking for the wind that will pull them around.

Me, I’m not much of a sailor, but I am looking forward to summer sunsets with a glass of wine, the skyline behind me and the water stretching out in front.

And maybe some cheese.

Sunsets are almost always better with cheese.

The morning of day four. The sky is a perfect blue; wind and sea, present but calm; and in the cockpit, Axel is operating our “washing machine” (i.e. a plunger in a bucket of water).

I watch him with a smile. This is more like it! Sun and light winds; smiles and fresh laundry. I almost feel human again, I think to myself, as I finally clamber over to the fruit net to check on the pineapples. They are already weeping sticky juice, however, and must be tossed overboard; which inspires me to go below to sort through our stockpile of fruits and veges that I’d been ignoring for the last four days.

I pick them over, extracting the ones that look worse for wear. The carrots in particular are already wilting in the heat, so I finally venture into the galley (boat-talk for kitchen) to make a coleslaw.

The task is bearable, even though I do have to sit down in a sweaty heap once I’m done. Immediately, my head fills up with plans – plans about FOOD: I’ll make falafel for lunch, with fresh tomatoes and coleslaw and chutney…and in the evening I can prepare dough for bread tomorrow…or maybe, maybe I’ll bake muffins! Mmmmm muffins…

The solar panels are charging like crazy, and the batteries are almost full. We take advantage of this abundance of power by running the desalinator to refill the water tanks; and even turn on the fridge (our main energy guzzler) so we can enjoy a cold beer in the evening.

I sit (upright!) in the cockpit, as a mellow breeze brushes past hanging laundry to sweep the hair back from my face. It can’t get much better than this, I muse happily. Nope. If this was a musical, I’d break out into joyful song right about now.

******

I sit in the cockpit to read my book, which is embarrassingly titled – Stress Management for Dummies.

There are three ways to deal with stress, I learn:

1. Remove the cause,
2. Change your beliefs and values, or
3. Manage your reaction.

When I tell this to Axel, he thinks briefly, before announcing that his favorite is 1. Remove the cause. I nod, sagely, fully agreeing with his pronouncement, before eventually realizing that we are sitting in a boat in the middle of the Pacific ocean, and might be best for me to focus on options 2. and 3 for the time being.

******
By 5pm, I’m hot from the inside out. Only after I climb down into the relative coolness of the salon do I realize that sitting in the sun all day might not have been such a good idea. Still, the mild headache in my temples does little to dampen my spirits.

The sunset is spectacular, as usual. Axel and I chat together, eat leftover falafel with a side of beer, and watch the stars appear in a sky that shifts from glowing orange to deep purple to midnight blue.

We lie on our backs as Axel shows me how to find the compass points using the stars; and when he eventually goes below to rest, I don’t feel alone at all. I read, and think, and stare up into the cloudless firmament; marveling at Venus, the brightest star in the sky.

Thursday

Day five and I wake feeling fine, fine, fine!

Axel is taking pictures of the sunrise. As I step into the cockpit, he turns his camera in my direction, before grimacing a little and lowering it without taking a shot.

“What?” I ask.
“Bruce Lee hair,” he replies, motioning with his chin to my mop of hair, which used to be stylishly “New York” but is now…not.

I make a mental note to chop off my blossoming mullet during our next calm day at anchor, flop down beside Axel, and lay my head in his lap.

The wind is blowing a steady 15-20 knots; the parasailor is strung tight in front of the boat, pulling us forward; and although we are still rolling with the waves, the movement feels bearable – calming even – after the lurching of the last days.

Today is going to be a good day!

I hock around below decks all morning, escaping from the sun. I bake home-made Twix Bars (which get a yell of delight from Axel), then lie with my head propped up on a pillow as I read up on how to identify negative thought patterns, eliminate environmental stressors, and control my breathing to release unnecessary tension.

Axel is happy too, but not entirely satisfied. The whirr of winches from the cockpit comes quite often now, as he adjust the sails to the changing wind, and every now and then he’ll come below muttering things like: “The wind is coming from the north-east <head shake>. It doesn’t make any sense!” or “ We might have to go further south if it continues like this…”
In the afternoon, he comes downstairs to download a new weather report and plot our course on the map.

“Ahhhhh!” he shouts, a few minutes later, in typical Axel style.

I look up startled, because even though we’ve known each other for almost six years, I still haven’t figured out how to distinguish his “Ahhhhh! This thing I just discovered is amazingly awesome and cool!” from his “Ahhhhh! I just stabbed myself with a sharp object or something equally horrible!”

I look over, concerned; but he isn’t bleeding profusely, which is always a good sign.
“196 miles!” he exclaims, “We did 196 miles on Tuesday!!”

I think back. Tuesday, I remember Tuesday. Tuesday was horrible and painful, with rain and wind and all sorts of uncomfortableness…

“Wow! That’s so cool…” Axel is flushed with excitement; but is soon dipping his head with a grimmace, “Dammit! I really want to make 200 miles one of these days. If I’d known we were so close I would have tried harder!”

And I can’t help but feel a little guilty, because I know he’s been holding back.

Axel, you see, is the type of guy who’ll grit his teeth and tighten the sails and do all he can to race the wind and the waves. But with me on board he will, more often than not, look sadly at my inert form stretched across the cockpit, and say something like: “Well, I could leave the mainsail up to get a few extra knots, but it’s less rolly with the parasailor,” and then he’ll go and put up the parasailor…

******

There are some beautiful moments. Like now, as we sit, cuddled together in the cockpit. Bob Marley is crooning softly in the corner, our bellies are full, and we sip contentedly on our sweet, chilled, gin and tonics.

Just thirty minutes later, however, the light fades from the sky. The magical sunset is past, and the night has an ominous feel to it…perhaps it’s the looming clouds.

My iPad lies next to me, full of books and games and sailing simulations; my iPod sits snug in my pocket, brimming with funk, jazz, French lessons, and audio books…but somehow I can’t bring myself to turn them on.

My head is already too full of the days reading. So I stare out across the changing sea, thinking fondly of my past lives in Berlin, Ottawa, New Jersey, and New Zealand; and of the friends I’ve left behind, and what I wouldn’t give to be able to meet up with them for Sushi or a Kebab later this evening…

Axel sits next to me, and we look at each other with the same thought: It’s only 7pm; barely evening. And then, after that there will be another evening, and another, and another…

Neither of us asks our usual “Why are we doing this again?” question, because we both know the answer by now. Because we are stupid, that’s why. And perhaps, just perhaps, we are searching for something else; something other than the stress and ache of modern life.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say.
“Neither do I.”
“Do you want to argue about something?”
He laughs: “About what?”
“We could argue about whether we’ll get a puppy once we get to New Zealand?” I suggest.

But we don’t argue. We simply hold hands and sit together in silence.

*****

My night watch passes uneventfully. I read, learn French, and make plans for tomorrow: If it’s nice weather, I’ll make muffins in the morning. And perhaps I can even sit down and do some writing!

The thought cheers me up immensely. I want to DO something with my time! It is almost a physical pain inside me. I need to work! To be productive! To do something USEFUL!!

But then again, when I consider this urge towards productivity in the quiet moments of the night, I’m not entirely sure if that’s really what I should be doing, or if I’m just being pushed forward by the echoes of the people back home.

I can still feel the wistful envy in their eyes as they’d lay their hands on my arm and say things like:  “You have to take advantage of this opportunity, Liz,” or “Be sure to use your time wisely. You are so lucky!”

******

At 11pm, feeling bored, I switch over to my “How to meditate” audio book. What better time to learn to meditate than on a voyage out at sea, right?

I’m supposed to sit for fifteen minutes and focus on my breathing. If any physical sensation or emotion comes up, I should name it, and repeat it in my head until it goes away – “Itch itch itch,” for example, or “Sad sad sad.”

So I sit cross legged in the cockpit, set my watch alarm to fifteen minutes, and my thoughts go something like this: sore foot, sore foot, undies need adjusting, itchy nose, itchy nose, itchy nose, wave, wave, wave, WAVE, I open my eyes briefly to grab on so I don’t tip over, before closing them again, wave, wave, wave, itchy nose, bored, bored, bored, WAAAVE…

I have this great vision of me sitting on a sailboat, all zen-like, contemplating the nature of the universe and my place in it. And, you know, sometimes I do! Perhaps 0.2% of the time. The other 99.8%, however, I’m just the same old Liz, who thinks about food a lot, and stresses out over getting all salty from seawater and running out of vegetables, and is much too easily startled, and would like nothing more than to hang out with friends in a dimly lit bar in Neu-Koeln.

I open my eyes to sneak a peak at my watch: 3:45 minutes have passed.

It takes all my will-power to sit still for the full fifteen. And after the time is over, I sit there trying to feel something valuable going on inside.

But no, there is nothing going on my head. No feeling of calm or relief; no great realization or sense of progress. I’m not on my way to becoming enlightened, or actualized, or whatever it is I am supposed to be when it all comes down to it.

In fact, all I feel, right at this moment, is a deep and abiding sense of boredom; as if I had just sat there for fifteen minutes wasting my time, when I could have been out there Doing, or Learning, or Creating Something of Value…

I turn on the audio book again and listen a little more. The meditation speaker gives my French instructor a run for his money when it comes to enthusiasm. “The point is to be present in the moment,” he effuses, “It’s not your job to care about the outcome. It is your job to sit there for fifteen minutes each day and try to still your mind…”

****

I finish my watch and crawl into the pilot berth. Not long after, however, the boat begins to lurch. The waves are back with a vengeance, and we rock steadily from side to side, making it necessary to tie the lee cloth on the side of the bed, so I don’t fall out.

The cabin is hot and musty; there is a strange smell rising up from the bilge and up through the floorboards. I jostle about in the bed for a while, tired but unable to sleep, before getting up and climbing woozily into the cockpit for some fresh air.

But just then, rain drops start to fall, heralding the arrival of a squall. So I climb back down the ladder and sit on the bed, unsure of what to do with myself. Axel comes down too, and we sit, looking at each other as we listen to the contents of the boat shift back and forth.

Clank, clatter, bump, the boat leans to the left.
Clink, bump, donk, and back to the right again.
Clank, clatter, bump, great, there we go to the left again.
Clink, donk, clatter, oh, the fun never stops, does it?

I listen, on edge, expecting any minute to hear one of the clanks to eventually turn into a smash-tinkle-tinkle; but for some reason I can’t bring myself to get up again to check that everything is stowed correctly. That deep unhappiness in my stomach has returned, and all I can do is lie there, anchored to the bed.

Never again, never again, never again…

****

I wake with a start,

Is it morning yet!? No, it is still dark.

Only then do I register the strange banging noises coming from outside. It sounds terrible! As if Axel is running around madly on deck.

I bolt upright. Perhaps he is battling with the sail…or, or, what if he is in trouble!?

I jump out of bed and run to the entranceway…only to find Axel sitting quietly in the cockpit, looking up at the sails.

“What was that noise!?” I ask, eyes wide.

“It was nothing, just the sails,” he shrugs.

So I lie back in bed, and use my newly acquired deep breathing exercises to calm the restless flutter in my chest.

*****

I lie in a strange, sometimes-conscious state, and only slowly become aware of a strange noise coming from underneath the floorboards.

Clicky-clicky-clicky.

I sit up immediately, having wisely learnt that an unknown noise coming on the boat is not something that you should ignore.

I lie my head against the floorboards, clicky-clicky-clicky.

I pull them up and peer curiously into the bilge, clicky-clicky-clicky.

But there is nothing there; so I do what I always do when I don’t know what to do: “Axel! Can you come down for a second?”

Axel comes down, and we both crawl around on our knees trying to locate the sound. After a few minutes, we have to conclude that it must come from outside the boat, around about where the keel is.

Clicky-clicky-clicky.

“Well, we can’t do much about it now,” says Axel with a shrug, and climbs back into the cockpit.

I stay below, sitting on the floor.

Clicky-clicky-clicky.

If Axel isn’t worried about it, I shouldn’t be either, I think as I put the floorboards back in place and try very hard to channel his faith and trust that things will work out just fine.

I climb back into bed, and try to ignore the sense of impending doom bubbling up inside me; because although I’m almost positive that something terrible is going to happen at any moment – a killer whale attack, for example, or a freak tsunami – past experience has shown that it usually doesn’t.

Clicky-clicky-clicky.

Still, my mind creeps back to our latest adventure on the rocks in the Galapagos.

Axel promises that it’s impossible for the keel to fall off, but I still have this vision of this little piece of metal, which is sticking out from the side of the keel. Clicky-clicky-clicky. And although it is doing it’s best to withstand the roiling waves and pressure, it is only small, you see, and just can’t manage to hold on. And eventually, it will start peeling away from the side of the boat; slowly slowly; and as it peels, it gets bigger and bigger, until great chunks of the keel are being twisted and ripped away from the hull; and soon, water will start trickling in…

Don’t be silly, nothing is going to happen, I tell myself sternly.

Yes, replies a small but insistent voice, but what if it does?

******

I just had a wonderful dream. Axel and I were supposed to be sailing for three weeks, but one week in, we find an island with one of those old fashioned american diners at the top of the hill. We laugh ruefully as we drive up to the drive-thru, because we probably should have gone the whole three weeks, but now we are here, we might as well go and eat a burger, right?

This time when I wake, the sun has finally arrived. I look outside to see Axel huddled in the cockpit. Exhausted; asleep. It must have rained a lot in the night, because his wet weather cocoon is soaking wet as it hangs in the companionway.

He stirs as I sit next to him, and murmurs a sleepy good-morning.

“Why didn’t you come inside?” I ask.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” he says.
Which I think is a very silly reason not to come inside.

*****

I don’t know what day it is anymore. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

I’m pitched about in the cockpit. The two-to-three meter waves look magnificent in the dirty gray daylight; sweeping up powerfully behind us, before falling away to force themselves under the boat.

“Twelve squalls,” Axel mutters, as he stands beside me shaking his head. And I turn to look at the tell-tale ‘anvil’ clouds around us, as he points and counts again “One, two, three, four…”

The clouds look pretty, in the distance at least, with their veils of rain flowing downwards to touch the horizon.

Thankfully, Axel has perfected his technique of avoiding looming squalls by judging their speed and sneaking around behind them. The rest of the day passes slowly. Axel dodges the squalls, and I lie in the cockpit, moving only now and then to let out a line, or to winch another a little tighter.

“Shit,” says Axel, some time in the late afternoon, and lunges over my barely conscious form to let the parasailor out, reducing our speed, “I didn’t expect that.”

I sit up to look around. The wind whips at my face, and the boat heels alarmingly to the side in choppy seas. I feel the first splatters of raindrops on my face. Axel has been outsmarted by the weather, it seems; and we are running before a devious black cloud that had been hiding behind the one he just dodged.

I sway dopily as the boat is forced sideways by a rouge wave. The autopilot whirrs in disagreement as it tries to regain control, and the parasailor swings alarmingly as we heel over enough that the sea almost pours into the cockpit.

Once we are upright again, I scramble over to grab our canvas spray-guard, which was ripped free by the strength of the wave and is only hanging on by a few lonely cable ties.

“Stay inside the cockpit!” Axel barks. I give him what I hope is a “I-can-look-after-myself” look, but decide to abandon my attempts to rescue the spray-guard, and instead run around the cockpit, throwing any loose items – pillows, buckets, books, and the like – down into the relative safety of the companionway.

Axel starts muttering unhappily behind me.

“Scheisse,” he says, “The BBQ.”

I look over to the empty spot where our BBQ used to be. It must have been ripped off the cleat where it was attached and is, right at this moment, sinking slowly to the bottom of the sea…

*****

“I have to get the parasailor down” Axel yells down into the salon. It’s evening already, and I’d been sleeping.

The rain is constant now, with squalls lining up, one behind the other, as they wait patiently for the privilege of raining down on our sad, wet, Gudrun.

I put on my jacket and waterproof pants and go outside to see what is going on. The wind is gaining momentum again. I feel the rain on my face, and try to contain the urge to go back below, where I would crawl into the pilot’s berth and get myself as unconscious as possible.

For the next two hours, I sit in the cockpit and watch fretfully as Axel clips himself to the safety line, and wobbles his way forward to battle with the parasailor. The wind has picked up to over 35 knots, and the sail billows out with great force, making it difficult to pull down the sock and get it back in the boat.

Every now and then he shouts, “Plus 20 degrees!” or “Pull the downhaul!” or “Let the starboard sheet out!” and I scramble around the cockpit adjusting the autopilot and lines. And although I know that the wind isn’t that bad, and that Axel is clipped in and won’t fall off the boat; I still feel a great tightness in my chest, like a spring being wound tighter, and tighter…

Finally, the parasailor is down. I cheer mightily as Axel crawls back into the safety of the cockpit, and we furl out the headsail.

Success!

Both drenched, we sit side-by-side, enjoying the closeness that comes from achieving something together. And for a little while, I simply enjoy the moment, smiling at the coolness of the raindrops, as they spatter onto my bare hands and feet, and dribble over my rain jacket to sneak onto my face and neck.

It’s not long, however, before I feel the need to scurry back into the safety and warmth of the salon.

I pull off my gear, towel myself dry, and jump bodily into the bunk, to snuggle into the safety of the pillow. It’s only after I am lying there in comfort, that I hear the clinking noise of our glass cups, which we had washed after dinner and placed to dry on the galley counter. They sway back and forth at the boat swings, with ominous clinks, and I can imagine in my minds eye the mess they’d make if they fell to the floor.

I should put them away, I think. But I can’t. I’m stuck here in bed, afraid to get up, or move, or do anything. Paralyzed with something. Seasickness? Fear? Stress? I’m not sure which.

A clink-filled hour later, Axel comes in, exhausted as well, and flops down on the couch on the other side of the salon.

Now, Liz, you can’t be such a wuss. Don’t just sit there sniffling like a girl. Be a real man! You don’t see Axel lazing around in bed, do you?

I look over at Axels still form as he lies there motionless, however, and feel the need to change my tactic: You need to push yourself if you are going to get stronger! Don’t give in to the fear!! You can do it!!!

So I lift my head from the warm, cosy pillow, and stumble over to the galley to put the glasses away. On the way, the boat heaves and I’m pushed against the navigation table and almost fall to the floor.

Everything sucks. Everything sucks. Everything sucks!

Finally, I make it the endless two meters to the galley, pick up the damn glasses and open the dish-ware cupboard to stow them away.

But…they won’t fit. Everything has shifted. The cupboard is a mess, with the plates and cups, and containers and thermoses all jumbled together. As I stare upwards into the cupboard, trying to decide what to do, the boat sways again. The contents of the cupboard rattle and teeter, as if they will fall on me at any minute, and one of my numerous snaplock containers is the first one to take the plunge – falling out and hitting me on the crown of the head.

Ow!

And what do I do?

I burst into tears. I close the cupboard, put the glasses in the sink, sit down to the ground, and cry my little heart out.

Axel, hearing the commotion, gets up and pats me with a there-there, before putting the glasses away; and soon after I crawl back into bed and fall asleep.

Saturday

You know what I miss? I miss the freedom of regular life. I miss the importance of it all. I miss getting up and having a coffee, and then walking out the door on some important errand…

The day is wearing on. It’s Saturday, almost a week since we left. The weather, at least, has cleared up a little, but I still can’t bring myself to venture outside.

The mysterious clicky-clicky sound has disappeared, but the smell in the bilge has only gotten worse. I don’t know what it is. I spent four days in Shelter Bay Marina in Panama cleaning the damn thing…

Finally, Axel can’t stand it any more; he gets out the salt water pump and starts cleaning it out. It makes so much noise! This endless whirrr-whirrr-whirrr, and all the floorboards are up, and of course, that makes the smell that much worse, and I have this dull achy headache, and I’m sitting here crying because all I want is for everything to be STILL for once!

I get up and go outside. It’s sunny, at least. So I do some washing, and try to ignore the bulb of unhappiness that has wedged itself in my throat.

****

Axel informed me that we passed the one-third mark this afternoon. Woohoo. Can you feel my enthusiasm?

Axel has this thing where he says we are almost there. By his logic, one-third of the way is a great confidence boost. Because, after the one-third mark, there is only a short leap to the half-way mark; and from half-way, it is only a little further until you reach two-thirds, and then three-quarters, and bam! before you know it you have arrived at your destination, still wondering where the time went.

So he’s all happy about that. But, you know, I’m not sure if his logic is quite correct. Because by my calculations the last week lasted an eternity; which means stretching out before us, across the endless expanse of sea, is nothing less then two-times eternity…

But, on the other hand, Axel was always much better at math than I…

To paint a picture – I have a pretty awesome job. I work for a nationally recognized center within Indiana University, I travel to some of the most beautiful parks and recreation facilities in the United States, I work with some pretty awesome people, and could never complain about the health, retirement and time-off benefits of a state funded job! But still, I couldn’t seem to shake this nagging feeling that I was supposed to be doing something more. So I started a company called IROC (Inclusive Recreation & Outdoors Consulting). IROC is really (in the event that you haven’t read my “about” section of this blog) the whole purpose behind this blog. Loosely put, this blog is documenting a process. And in the meantime, I allowed myself to start asking the question, what exactly is this “more” that I am envisioning? And more recently, I am asking the question, why does that nagging feeling seem to be yelling so loudly?

While searching one of my favorite blogs (“Live Your Legend,” by the awesome Scott Dinsmore) for entrepreneurial answers and inspiration, I came across a blog post that contained an intriguing title, “Entrepreneurship Is A Compulsion, Not a Choice (is this you?).” Something about it screamed out to me, so I tried to slow my already reeling brain down long enough to read it, and I am glad that I did, because it gave me perspective, and may have just helped me down the road to finding some answers.

The author of the blog post is John Greathouse, and until today, I had not been introduced to his ideas or his work – and now, I am hooked. If there was even a slight chance that the title of the post alone didn’t get me, what immediately followed the title was sure to do the job.

“It is not rational to put oneself into the uncertain, stress-filled environment of a startup. It is far more logical to take a 9-to-5 job with little stress and a lot of holidays. If it were a decision to be an entrepreneur, then most right-minded individuals would decide to turn back when they encountered the first inevitable startup crises. As noted in Your Startup Ideas Should Not Be Charming, most entrepreneurs are haunted by their ideas and feel they must execute them before someone else beats them to the punch. Entrepreneurs want to matter. They do not want a job, they want a purpose.”

Literally, after having read just over one paragraph of John’s post, I had it all figured out (ok, maybe not ALL, but I did feel a lot better about feeling the way I was, and that is a definite start). Here’s the breakdown:

Choice vs Compulsion. For an individual like myself, who would make a risk vs. reward list for everything in life (if there was enough time), it seems unimaginable to entertain the idea of taking such a risk as starting your own company, unless you were thrown into a set of extenuating circumstances where it just seemed the logical step. But for me, to do this means leaving the safe confines of a good, solid, and full of benefits job to take the biggest gamble in life a person can take – to bet it all on ME. However, it appears that maybe the reason this is driving me so crazy is because it has to do with the complete lack of control that I seem to have over this idea. Because while I like to think that I have a say in this process, it may not be a choice at all! I am that person that will think something to death – although instead of to death, I tend to think things into fruition. I consider that a good trait because I make sound decisions – but it means that some things appear to take longer for me than for others. Example .. albeit a pretty basic example. I have wanted a Canon DSLR for more years than I could count, but could never rationalize spending that much money on myself for something I didn’t need. But what is sitting on my desk at home right now? A Canon DSLR. How did it get there? A very long and drawn out series of events, rationalizations and transactions – but the sucker is mine. I love it, and have no regrets. I exhausted all my options for all portions of the purchasing process, and when it came time, everything just kind of came together. The moments leading up to the purchase, it became obvious (especially now looking back) that the idea of owning and purchasing a DSLR was a compulsion. There was little to no doubt that it would be mine.

So what does this mean in terms of myself and IROC? For about 5 or 6 years now, I have known that what I want from my professional life is be my own boss, be a leader in my career field, set my own work parameters (thereby setting my own “free-time” parameters), make a decent amount of money in order to be able to provide for myself and a family, all while loving what I am doing, and making a difference in the world (not necessarily in that order). So essentially, I figure I have been planning for this for about 6 years now – and a lot of groundwork has since been laid. It has become clear to me exactly what I want to do, I have established a company (IROC), I have business cards, a website, a logo, a mission statement, a business plan, products offering ideas, and an expert niche in a booming market. In the grand scheme of things, that is a lot accomplished, and truth be told, it has really happened over the last year. As evidenced by my consuming thoughts about this process, it seems apparent that it has become a compulsion. So I figure (to use a sailing metaphor, because let’s face it, sailing is cool), that so long as I continue to steer my course, it would stand to reason that when the winds are right, they will catch my boat, fill my sail, and send me off in the direction I was meant to head.

I am in the process of realizing this next stage of my life into fruition. And because of John’s blog, I just surpassed another milestone in realizing that right now what I have is a job, but what I want, is a purpose. It is figuring out when and how to cross that chasm that is presenting itself with the challenge right now, but I have no doubt that I will figure it out. Someone very close to me, and that I have great respect for, once told me that when I put my mind to something, I get it. I do not believe I have ever been paid a more meaningful compliment, and plan to ride this one right over the chasm.

Very calming…

You will find me at the Huntington Beach Art Fair this Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.  Stop by our booth and say “Hi!”

Remember, you can find most of my photography on my website www.stevethomasphotography.com or my Facebook page Steve Thomas Photography. Take a minute to check them out.  You can “Like” me on Facebook, and also follow me on Twitter by clicking the icons to the right.  That way you’ll be able to join me for my upcoming photo shoots!!

Ken Roche with his boat, moved from St. Martin to Annapolis, MD. See more pictures here.

This spring (April, 2012) Ken Roche finally realized a life-long dream: blue water sailing.

His sailing club, which has always sent him countless e-mails about opportunities to sail and move boats all around the world, finally gained traction with him. He responded to one and had the time of his life moving a sailboat from St. Martin to Annapolis, MD:

To put it simply, the trip was an amazing adventure. It started with a flight to St. Martin, which seemed easy enough, but a massive thunderstorm diverted the flight to Puerto Rico after a very-near-crash (yes, his life DID flash before his eyes!).  The next morning, Ken made a flight to St. Matrin, which had been severely flooded by the storm.

As for St. Martin, it’s an incredibly beautiful and intriguing place.  It is divided into two parts: one French and one Dutch.  Sailboats and cruise ships are in no short supply here; they dot the shorelines wherever you go.

Ken’s sailing adventure began at Moorings Base in Oyster Pond (French side).  Captain Jon Cluistra (South Africa) and First Mate Peter Kelleher (Nova Scotia) greeted Ken with friendly smiles and firm handshakes.  The marina was gorgeous, harboring boats from all over the world.  Ken could barely contain his excitement, as he waited to do what he’d dreamed of his whole life.

The mission: Deliver a 3900 Robertson & Caine Catamaran from St. Martin to Annapolis, MD, for charter use.  It would mean a 1600 mile journey , to be completed in ten days.  That Saturday morning before departure (he arrived in St. Martin on Friday), they fueled the boat, packed additional fuel, and provisioned the vessel.

As for the accommodations, Ken found them surprisingly pleasant. The boat had three births, two heads, and a spacious galley and salon.  The exterior of the boat had a patio-like area in the aft with plenty of shade, and the front had a large trampoline for reading and sun bathing.

See more pictures from Ken’s trip here.

When Ken and crew finally left the marina, his excitement grew, though he knew not what was in store.  The color of the water was  the most incredible aqua-velvet-blue – the deepest blue you have ever seen.  They sailed along the remainder of the Island, through sunset and into the night. Ken eventually found sleep, and discovered that waking up on the water was an entirely unique feeling.  Looking around and seeing nothing but water, you know you are “out there!”  It provides incredible peace.

Many people (probably rightly) know Ken as a person with a lot of nervous energy.  On this trip, Ken became a totally different person.  He’s not typically a reader, but read four books on this trip. In between what little work they had to do (that pretty much just involved looking around for 1,200 foot vessels that you might run into), there was plenty of time to snooze, read, listen to your iPod – and get sunburned!  The weather was something that needed paying attention to, but other than that, Ken found it surprising how effortless sailing could be. In other words, if you’re looking to relax, take a long sailing trip!

Sailing itself is actually a way of life for many, and offers an enormasouly large industry. The boat captain, Jon, a good-looking man for his age, moves sailboats all over the world, year-round, and makes a comfortable living doing so, supporting a family in the process. So for him, this trip was just another work week, but for Peter and Ken, it was an adventure of a lifetime.

As the crew made their way north to Maryland, the first five days provided excellent weather with little wind; the Atlantic Ocean was dead calm, very peaceful. Nights were filled with many stars and full moonlit skies, traced by subtle clouds.  The sunrises and sunsets were simply spectacular.

The routine for this trip was three men all sharing equal time “on watch.”  While on watch, day or night, the watchman had to, yes, “watch” out for other vessels, primarily the large 1000+ foot type.  At night, all you could see were the few lights off into the horizon, and you had to make sure that they kept moving. If you continue to see them, and they are not moving, that means your on a collision course.  With that threat of danger, staying watch certainly kept your interest peaked.

At one point in the trip, early on, Ken did see a bird.  The boat captain said it was a land bird that had been blown off the island and and had flown out to sea.  The bird was helpless, for it could not land on the water and rest.  Inevitably it would fall into the water, become water-logged, and drown. Ken at that point realized how fragile life is.  When you are out at sea, you may as well be on the moon.  At furthest reaches, the crew was 600 miles off shore.  In other words, you’re on your own an Mother Nature is in control.  The Coast Guard could never reach you in time of any emergency.

But luckily, no Coast Guard was needed for Ken and his crew. On about the 6th day at sea, the weather changed for the better, for the most part.  A 25-28 knot wind kicked in, providing 10-12 seas. This is what sailing is all about; the ocean tossed the boat around like it was a tin can, and made cooking and sleeping more difficult. The boat crashed through the seas, but that is what it was made for, and remained solid and in control. This meant that the crew, though,  had to be on their game and “reef” the sails for night time navigation.  Again, they were at the mercy of Mother Nature – she always reminds you that she is in total control.  Luckily, the wind eventually subsided and changed direction, which made sailing a little more comfortable.

Sailboats that are equipped for blue water passage are set up with all the creature comforts, very similar to a motor home or camper. The crew had refrigeration, hot and cold running water, shade, and a relatively spacious place to sleep.  The electronics are state of the art and provide your location at any time.  The auto-pilot made sailing a joy during calmer times; you never had to touch the helm, just plug in your way point.  (This was a big plus when you were engulfed in a good novel.)

The captain had a satellite phone, not only for safety, but also to receive daily texts, e-mails from family, other boat captains, who were also delivering boats, and also wind and weather reports. As far as safety gear, the boat had an eperb (a satelite location device that detects your location) and life raft, if needed.  Many stranded sailors have been rescued by oil tankers and container ships, likely your only means for rescue when you’re that far off shore.

The crew’s first waypoint was at Norfolk, VA. There they saw the first signs of life, that they hadn’t seen for nearly eleven days (yes, the crew were behind schedule with the little wind).  It was, frankly, pretty awesome.  Norfolk, VA, is one of many Navy bases.  The Navy ships were massive,  dotted with oil tankers from far away.  Once in Norfolk, they had to find a marina to clear customs. It was amazing seeing all the ships from around the world, each with a unique story just like in St. Martin.  The Navy was everywhere in Chesapeake Bay, providing Ken a totally unique feeling of safety and protection.

From Norfolk, we continued to our final destination, Annapolis, MD.  This last bit was the most exciting part of the journey, because it was mostly in the dark.  Motoring up the Chesapeake River at night was a challenge.  There were massive boats passing us through out the night, putting the crew on edge.  Thankfully, today’s technology actually makes it very safe.  When they finally pulled into the marina at Annapolis, Ken felt a sense of accomplishment he had never felt before, despite the successful businesses he has built and run. Their 1600 mile, 11-day journey, gave the charter company a boat they needed for the busy summer season ahead in the Chesapeake Bay.

This trip has been more than fulfilling a dream for Ken; it’s given him a new dream, to become a boat captain and move boats like Captain Jon.  How? Who knows, maybe by starting a non-profit organization and following the hurricanes to help restore villages.  Whatever the route, knowing Ken, he will get it done, one day finding a new life of peace and adventure on the open seas.

In addition to supportive yacht clubs, the Smith Mountain Lake Sailing School offers classes to sailing newbies and more experienced sailing buffs who want to polish up their skills or advance into competitive sailing. Smith Mountain Lake Sailing Charters gives SML guests chartered tours on a sailboat, a fun choice for families who want to give their kids a sailing experience.

If you’re interested in what’s going on in sailing at Smith Mountain Lake, check out a recent article in the Laker Magazine, or contact one of the groups listed below. Bon Voyage!

Blackwater Yacht Racing Association at Pelican Point Yacht Club

540-576-1653

Smith Mountain Lake Sailing School

540-719-0009

Smith Mountain Lake Sailing Charters

540-719-0009

Virginia Inland Sailing Association

540-721-2350

River Walk

iAIS as featured in WaterKampioen Magazine (Netherlands)

Hopefully by now you will know two things. Firstly, every one of our Facebook and Twitter friends who joined us (offer ends on 24^th May 2012) are automatically entitled to claim a free £50, #villaparade #holiday voucher.

We will soon be posting the email address for you to use to claim your voucher. Simply type: Want to claim my £50 VP voucher into the subject box. We will then email your voucher for you to use. 

Please note terms and conditions apply and only one voucher per follower*

Secondly, one of our much loved Facebook or Twitter friends will be picked later today to win the one week villa holiday – click here to read the original competition blog for more details. 

The winner will be chosen at random and an announced made on Friday 25^th May 2012. Good luck everyone!

A big thank you to everyone who have joined us on Facebook and on Twitter – make sure you watch out for our special offers and future competition alerts ;)

Oh, and because you are all now the proud owners of a £50, VP voucher, don’t forget to order your free 2012 Villaparade brochure ;) Click ‘here‘ to claim your free copy. or tour our website at villaparade.co.uk - if you prefer however, you can challenge our booking team by email as much information as you have to: c and let them find the perfect Villa Parade holiday for you.

Thank you again and good luck everyone! 

From the cliffs above the day before we could see the full extent of the race as a smallish yacht went straight through the middle of it (Why?)

But given the nod by the water taxi man (thanks Pete) we hit it just right. I’ve been more worried off Yarmouth.

Slightly more concerning was the fog bank between Alderney and guernsey, particularly as I knew the ferries used thatpassage and I didn’trealise being mowed down by the Condor cat. Luckily it loomed out of thelifting haze behind us lifters the visbegan to clear.  I’d like to think the radar reflector works- but you never know.

Anyway, here in St Peter Port for three days for a crew swap andthen potentially off to jersey

If I Go There Will be Trouble

If I Stay There Will be Double

Lucky for us, 2012 is projected to be a banner year as far as hurricanes and tropical storms go- and they are expected to hit our chosen summer cruising grounds. Great! We will get to practice anchoring in high winds with perhaps more than one anchor to hold us, take our sails down in record time, and wear goggles on deck so we can see through the rain! Just kidding. I hope.

Photo from www.accuweather.com

The word on the street is that this is an El Niño year “represented by warmer-than-average sea surface temperatures in the tropical Pacific that can lead to a higher number of tropical systems ranging from tropical depressions to tropical storms and hurricanes.” See accuweather.com article HERE. Just one month ago the experts told us that this would be a low season because the water was cooler than usual. I vote that the water cools down again.

There is a lot of ‘weather talk’ in the sailing community as sometimes our lives may depend on it. It seams as though nobody really knows what weather means, most people only attempt to decipher GRIB files and everybody learns to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

Our boat is in the small protected bay north of where the storm is expected to hit. As of Thursday morning, the storm winds were reaching speeds as high as 90mph.

The 2nd Named Storm, Bud has switched back and forth between Tropical Storm Status and Hurricane Status several times already and I’m a bit peeved that Bud is the reason that we did not leave the marina on Tuesday this week. We are ready- let us go! We considered making a run for it on Tuesday morning and trying to skirt around him. Skip all the surf spots we were planning to hit on our way north, and head straight for the Sea of Cortez. 3 days at sea. Racing boats like the storms. They go fast enough where they can move from storm to storm to get the most wind. But racers have common breakage. And we do not want to break out house.

Even though Bud is projected to fizzle out by Saturday afternoon, tropical storms sometimes change their minds quickly. And since the northeast quadrant of the storm is the most dangerous place to be, we decided to err on the side of safety and stay put in our nice little protected bay. So instead of being nervous in the big blue ocean, we will be at the hot, sticky, muggy dock watching the thunderstorms roll by. Conor has already signed up for Spanish lessons and if the rains are not too heavy we will take advantage of the swell to go surfing in Banderas Bay.

Ah, well. In the cruising life, nobody has plans. Only intentions. And manana is another day.

* For our fellow cruisers- Carolyn Shearlock has some great articles on hurricane preparedness based on her experience in Hurricane Marty in 2003 that hit the Sea of Cortez. http://theboatgalley.com/hurricane-preparation/

* This is a great website with weather information from several sources. http://www.eebmike.com

This will be a really short post – I’m flying home to NB tomorrow for my birthday, mom’s birthday, and my cousin’s wedding… and I still haven’t packed

Tonight, it was just me and Paul sailing Panache.  Hopefully by next week, we’ll start getting some more and more regular crew… But we did manage this week.

The start wasn’t terrible, but the first lap on the whole was pretty bad.  We didn’t get our double-handing choreography down until mid-race; our tacks were really slow, and our first mark rounding took four extra tacks and some backwards sailing in order to make it around.  I’m pretty sure we were solidly in last place by the end of that first lap.

However, we kept it up and picked away at the boats ahead of us over the next couple of laps.  They seemed to be not infallible either and we managed to get back up into pretty good position by the last lap – running second, though pretty far back from the lead boat in our fleet: Strange Device, skippered by my new neighbour, Brandon

It was his first race ever at the club and he had the boat going really well.  I didn’t think we could catch him… But as luck would have it, he got tangled up with some other boats at the last windward mark.  I’ll have to watch the video to see if it shows what happened exactly, but short story: we gained a ton on him and passed him there.  Whatever happened, Strange Device pulled out of the race at that point, so on the results sheet he’s not even there, but there’s definitely another new boat to watch out for in the coming weeks.

Anyway, it wasn’t pretty, but we’ll take it.  It was my birthday eve, afterall

Video highlights posted here.