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LOG ENTRY DATE: July 14, 2003 We arrived in Antigua late in the afternoon of Sunday, December 7, and dropped the hook in Falmouth Harbor. The harbor was extremely busy and full of superyachts, owing to the Nicholson Charters boat show that was going on. Incredibly large yachts—both motor and sail—filled all the available dock space and, tied stern-to, protruded far out into the harbor. It is pretty amazing to witness the wealth that is reflected in those boats, and to simply try to imagine how much the whole flotilla (easily 75 boats all over 120 feet) was worth. Most, of course, are atrociously gaudy and ugly in design, but there are the few large sailboats—White Hawk, Braveheart, and Shamoun among them—whose beauty is undiminished by their size. After a quick clean-up we all hit the shore—illegally, as we could not check into customs until the following day—and tried to get our land legs back in working order. We were assisted in this by a visit to the Mad Mongoose, the local drinking establishment. The MM was full of "yachties" hanging out. . . no surprise, given that each of the superyachts in the harbor must carry significant crews. We toasted to our successful crossing, had dinner and a few more beers, and made it back to the boat without getting arrested. Chase was in pretty good shape, but the following day was spent giving her a thorough cleaning. Everything that had potential to rust seemed to have done so, and we had a good collection of large gooseneck barnacles growing under the transom. We put on the (now repaired) #1 genoa, retired the cruising chute and the #2, and covered up the main. The most critical problem on the boat is the engine-driven refrigerator, which lost it's pressure due to a chafed-through pipe in the engine compartment. It will be fixed while I'm gone, but since Antigua is known for it's outrageous prices on virtually all goods and services, I am already preparing myself mentally for the bill. The next few days and nights we engaged in the typical sort of debauchery that one would expect from 4 guys who had been caged together in a small space for over three weeks. First, in the early evening, was the obligatory cocktails on board, followed by a trip to land to have dinner and more drinks. There seem to be plenty of restaurants and bars in tiny Falmouth Harbor, and we sampled everything from tavern fare, to pizza, to (our favorite) a French restaurant called Cap Horn, which Ed and I had visited last spring, and found it to be just as good now as it was then. Nat departed the boat on Wednesday, the 10th, and Ed on the 11th (I won't go into detail about that night, other than to say that Ed performed like a rock star, and got 2 hours sleep before getting his taxi at 0430), leaving Tom and me to finish putting the boat back together, and ready for others to use during the winter. Since Tom will also be leaving the boat for a short period, we've left her at the docks at the Antigua Yacht club, surrounded by the behemoths. At this point, I'm not sure who will find their way down during the course of the winter, but I know my two partners are planning on it, as are Katie and I. Tom will continue to stay on the boat, and to watch over her through the season, and to accompany (or perhaps captain) her home in May. It's hard at this point to be wrapping up the last few days of My Big Trip (the potential delivery home in May notwithstanding), particularly in terms of what to say about it in a final log. While trying not to be overly-sentimental about it, I can say that it was a marvelous experience, that I enjoyed all of it, and that I'd do it again in heartbeat. But, there are some things I won't miss: being away from home, leaving Katie and Gus behind, wrangling with foreign bureaucrats, cleaning the bilges. If I ever do it again, I hope Katie will come along instead of just having her do the "support" duties on shore. Or, maybe we'll do it in another form: canoeing in the Artic, hiking the Appalachian Trail. . . who knows? All I can say is that taking this kind of time away from normal life, to do something entirely different and to "recharge one's batteries", is good for the morale, and good for the soul; it erases the day-to-day complacency and inertia we accumulate, but so easily ignore. Ironically, as I sat on Chase's foredeck while we approached Antigua, I realized—as I tried to absorb for the last time all that I could of the feeling of coming into port from the ocean: sailing under a beam reach in 15 knot winds, making a smooth and steady 7 knots under a sunny tropical morning surrounded by the sea and its incredible color—that I was in danger of the same "inertia" problem with my trip: I had to focus on specific aspects of it to keep IT from sliding into a state of normalcy! How quickly we learn to take for granted even the special things. Most important are the experiences I'll take away: the trans-Atlantic crossings, the grandeur of Spain, Madeira, and the Canaries. And, the great opportunity I had to share more than a two months with six of my favorite people when they came to either vacation with me, or to help me sail Chase across an ocean: John O'Meara, Seb Milardo, Ed Leary, Ted Reed, Susan Pollis, and Lincoln Fuller; I am truly lucky to be able to spend that much time with friends I love and respect. Not to mention finding old friends— Max Fletcher and Lynnie Bruce—along the way! And new friends: Mike Giles, Nat Henshaw, and Jack McBride—particularly Jack, who not only helped us cross the Atlantic east-ways, but came back for more and crossed with us to Madeira. . . his unfailing good humor and unique flow of energy made him a valuable addition to the crew, and to my list of friends. Of course, it would have been a very difficult undertaking without Tom Nangle, who accompanied me the entire way, and who showed incredible patience with me as barked and then rescinded orders, criticized him hypocritically, and generally acted as my usual grumpy self—especially in the morning. He displayed a marvelous I'm-going-to-have-fun-no-matter-what attitude, so I expect he actually away a positive experience despite my shenanigans! I owe some people some thanks, too, beyond those that helped me move Chase around an ocean. One is webmaster and friend Nathan Sanborn who always stayed in touch, was always ready to post my logs, never laughed at my pictures, and forwarded the many messages that came through the website. As well, everyone at Pacsoft, both in Australia and in the U.S., who humored me in this endeavor, and never once tried to dissuade me. . .. in fact, it was very much the opposite, and I appreciate the help and extra load my managers and my friend, Andrew Darbyshire, agreed to take on during my absence. And naturally, there's Katie, without whom this would not have happened— literally. I know of no one who so selflessly devoted herself to an enterprise that was not her own. I'm not the first to enjoy this from Katie, though generally she's pouring her heart and energies out to more "worthwhile" causes like Chewonki, the Morris Farm, the YWCA, a needy friend, etc. But, she became engaged in this trip of mine to the point where it all ended up hinging on her. . . she not only provided what I needed from afar, but also saw to the needs of Tom and many others of my crew in terms of travel, food, equipment. She played a role as relay person, travel agent, courier, problem broker. How could I possibly have received a new transmission in Portugal without someone pleading and cajoling the supplier, UPS, and everyone else under the sun to get it delivered to me? I cringe with guilt at the thought of how much time she spent on this trip, around her own work and leisure time, just to keep me moving on my dream. For Katie, I can only hope that the three expeditions we shared—the Azores, the Picos de Europa, the Canaries—provided some kind of compensation— though she most often researched those and made all the reservations as well! For me, those three adventures were the highlight of the trip. . . though I would have thought the same, no doubt, regardless of where we were—just having her there after all those long weeks without her helped keep my spirits up and my loneliness at bay. Lastly, it's seems weird to personify a boat, but I can see why people do it. On the high seas and in every situation we threw at her (including trying to park her on top of a dock, blowing up her muffler, rubbing a hole in her keel with the anchor rode, and shredding her sails), Chase performed with dignity and solidness. Moreover, her systems all performed flawlessly (kudos to the Landing School Systems Program). I don't think I could have asked for a more sea-kindly and forgiving boat to transport me back and forth across the ocean—though I'm sure she'll breath a sigh of relief when she sees the barn again in Maine! |
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