Well, it’s two weeks into my new life as a professional sailor and I believe I have discovered the true meaning of being a cruising sailor. No, it’s not about the beauty of the sea, or harnessing the wind to fly across the water. Nor is it about traveling the world and seeing new things and places. No, the true meaning of being a sailor is learning how to be completely lazy, with only brief periods of intense activity. That’s right my friends, I have left my gainful employment as an educator of midget Koreans to be a layabout on a boat. It’s excellent.
While we do spend an awful lot of time sitting around and sleeping, we do occasionally have some excitement. Here are some highlights from the last few weeks:
A new mammal species has been discovered in Australia. It is the elusive Drop Bear- a cousin of the better known Koala. While Koalas are cute, cuddly Eucalyptus connoisseurs, Drop Bears are vicious carnivores that fall on you from above and devour your flesh. While there is some controversy about the actual existence of the Drop Bear, we remain certain that this ferocious predator exists. We are also on the lookout for the Kraken, which we hear resides in these waters this time of year.
Meet the crew. We have our fearless leader, Boyscout, who is the owner of the boat and knows everything about the boat. He is self assured and reliable. His status as an Eaglescout is part of the reason my mother is able to deal with me being on the boat.
Next we have Kitten, the other girl on the boat who adores animals and makes sure we know the words for kitten and puppy in any language we may encounter. She has never sailed before joining the crew, but is a senior member at this point, and more capable than she gives herself credit for. She is Boyscout’s girlfriend.
Last we have Adub, a founding father of the organization who is friendly and generally a nice dude. As Boyscout and Kitten are a couple, Adub and I generally find ourselves hanging out somewhere else to give them space.
Tides are crazy in Australia. The tides rose and fell 28 feet at our mooring in Darwin, Australia, which meant that we periodically got trapped on land or on the boat (moorings are buoys that you can tie your boat to). One night this meant that, when we returned too late, our dingy was more or less sitting in mud. Kitten and I laughed our heads off as Boyscout and Adub attempted to row through the murk. They failed. Another night, Kitten was on the boat and tried to pick me and Boyscout up on the dock. She ran the dingy aground three times and we hitched a ride with a crazy, salty old Australian sea dog, who cursed and cackled at the disappearing water and almost fell in since the boat was about five feet below the dock. Though we had considered swimming back to the boat, we chose to try our luck with the Australian, since man eating saltwater crocodiles are very prevalent in Darwin.
Our first stop in Indonesia. The island of Kisar is a lovely little place. The locals almost never see visitors and so get very excited by new people. The invited us to dine on delicious rice and fish with them, gave Kitten a baby to hold, invited us to hide in their homes from the rain, and offered to take us on rides on their motorbikes. They all wanted to take and be in pictures with us and, since they all had camera phones, we posed an awful lot. The locals also rescued us from the coral head that our anchor chain got wrapped around. After 15 hours of fighting the trapped chain from the boat, Boyscout and I dove to look during low tide. While we could barely reach the chain before scrambling back to the surface, desperate for air, an incredible Indonesian diving boy and 15 of his closest friends came to our aid. Wearing only homemade goggles (for comparison, we had masks, snorkels and fins), our savior dived down and untied the three times wrapped around chain. He only went down twice and was down there for almost a minute at a time, muscling the chain off the coral. It was amazing.
Alright, well, back to sailing. Our next stop is unknown. Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.
Avast me good mateys and good winds in yer landlubber’ ports till I write ye again!
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