Oh Captain, My Captain

Every captain has a parrot, a wooden leg and an eye patch. Everyone knows that. I learned it when I was 4...

But as I rocked up at my very first sailing boat (Fiddler) back in Kudat (Malaysia) in 2012, I found nothing of the sort... Captain Kirk had 2 real legs.

Captain Kirk

Kirk patiently taught me everything I now know about boats, he taught me to always throw up to lee, he taught me that tomatoes were not to be feared, he taught me how to dive, derust, install pop rivets, use power tools, pretend to be a marine engineer, and most importantly, he instilled in me a luster for sailing.

The Fiddler crew

13060.8 KM later I finally bid the captain, the crew, and Fiddler a very sad farewell - After 5 years of travelling, I thought it was time to try a real life... 

Just your average work excursion...

I obviously pushed my employees too hard...

The view from my balcony

|Yes, real life was tough!

But then one day, I got a phone call and the ocean beckoned me back and I found myself sailing on a new boat with a new captain. 

Captain David

David surprised me, he had no parrot or eye patch, and I arrived just too late to witness the shearing of his beard... but he had life sorted out - he proudly wore his "I wish I was a South African" shirt everywhere he went and hopefully still does back in Australia.

Nereid crew

Together we overcame terrible weather and pirates and 4am mampoer and even though we set sail for the Meditaranean; we washed up in the Caribbean... right next to Fiddler.

Life is weird like that.

After staunch negotiations; Captain Kirk bought me back from Captain David for a box of cookies (apparently my net worth) and for the last three months we faced the hardships of cruising the Caribbean

Life was great.

Fantastic even.

And then quite suddenly, out of the deep blue, things changed... A prospective job offer materialised despite me rocking up barefoot and mangled after a 2 hour hitch hike... and I met my new to be captain; Eagle.

He's a very very interesting man on a 5 year trip around the world. I have yet to meet the rest of the crew or the boat (they are all in Panama); but I have a good feeling about this!

So it's going to be a tight squeeze making it to the canal in time for the crossing, but flights should be avoided at all costs which is why I made a mission out of finding a boat from here (Trinidad) to Panama

And I did, I met Swedish Karl

And first thing in the morning I set sail on his beautiful 27 foot Albin Vega heading straight to Panama. I hope I don't need the toilet on the way because there isn't one.

It's flipping scary having life plans again; but adventure beckons and I can't wait to see where I wash up.

This evening has been a bit of a sad one, saying goodbye and handing things over is never fun, although I must admit that I did enjoy handing over my official Fiddler to do list

As you can see, Katrin was thrilled to be taking over responsibilities

So maybe all captains are different, but I want to say that as far as I know (from my experience at least) any good captain has a big heart, an even bigger lust for adventure burning violently within, and a great sense of humour!

Thank you so so very muchly captains of old!

And new captains, I look forward to all the adventures that lie ahead!

The Other Side of the World

 “Wow, six months at sea; didn’t you get bored?” – A question I’m asked all too frequently… and every time I think about it carefully and say “Well, no.” And then they always ask “So what did you do in all that time?” and I genuinely don’t really have an answer. This time I’ve paid attention…

So, obviously one ocean crossing is not quite enough, and that’s why I opted to cross the Atlantic too. Sunshine, warm waters, stars, phosphorescence, and sunsets… I missed the simplicity that life on the Indian Ocean had held; but the Atlantic: Blymey it’s cold!!!!!!!!

Thinking back, I remember wearing a jersey no more than 4 or 5 times in 6 months… Since Cape Town I’ve had no less than three layers on my bottom half and six on the top, three on my head and constantly socks on my feet – I was even willing to compromise my standards and wear shoes, but I didn’t bring any…

Sunsets, sunrises, and the stars have been censored by rain clouds, and while the waters are a staggering 6 degrees warmer than they were in Cape Town, they’re still icy. And this is meant to be the tropics?? Needless to say we’ve consulted the chart plotter and our maps on several occasions, just to make sure we are in fact heading away from the Antarctic. We are.

It’s not all bad though – we’ve had a plethora of whales and dolphins and seals and coffee and good food (not all to eat) and that’s almost made up for the temperatures – but I really have had enough of the shivering already… In fact, being the optimist that I am, I assured the crew that good weather was only a day away. I have officially received another verbal warning (bringing the total to 9) after falsely getting the crew’s hopes up.

 

 

Anyway, back to the question; what do we do all day? It’s easy – between the morning and afternoon naps, morning and afternoon teas; breakfast, lunches and dinners, as well as the normal evening snooze, and our allocated watch times (which do get quite stressful at times, on Wednesday – for instance - we narrowly missed hitting a ship by 92.3 nautical miles – 170.775km) and adjusting the sails (every 3 or 4 days, if we have to)… there really isn’t nearly enough time for reading and writing and contemplating life and talking and well, how could we possibly get bored? Di spends some of her spare time being sea sick, Simon’s spent four days trying to catch a fish, and the captain spends his spare time working out how to legally bi-pas the now illegalness of keel-hauling. 

First Braai at sea

We crossed the Prime Meridian (Longitude 00’00.00) in the early hours of Tuesday morning and now officially find ourselves on the other side of the world (The Western Hemisphere). But none of us are particularly impressed quite yet – there seems to be an excessive amount of lurky gray sky and water and not a lot else. To quote the crew: “Next time you want to complain about Cape Town’s weather, jut think about the poor buggers in the tropics.”

The average day's layerings

 

After 230 hours and 47 minutes, 1750 miles at sea, we finally find ourselves back on solid ground in Saint Helena; a third(ish) of the way to the Carribean. I’m proud to announce there have still been no fatalities on board.

First swim (sort of doubling as the first shower) in the Arctic - flip it's cold!! 

First sighting of land in 10 days....

First view's of St Helena