The closing of a Circle

In he early evening a day or two ago I came onto the bridge and had the watch keeper alter course. You can just see in the picture that it was a substantial change of direction but this action in it's self is no big deal. For me personally however, this was a significant point in my life. We changed course for Brazil! My return to Brazil one day was inevitable, it will have taken me 23 years and I will now have to write a bullet point history of my adult life so that you can understand what I am going on about. I like stories like this and it has inspired me that perhaps I should write the story down somewhere in more detail.

In 1989 my friend Mark invited me on an expedition to the Amazon. In 1990, Mark, myself and 3 others left England and landed in Manaus, Brazil. I was 21 years old. As an impressionable young man, the adventure, colour, vibrance and culture of Brazil and the remote beauty of the rain forest soaked into my skin. I loved it. After six months in Brazil I had seen many opportunities to teach English there and I vouched that I would go home, study to teach English and return to Brazil.

On returning to England I had got my job back working with another friend, also called Mark for a nice man called Robert. I studied to teach English as a foreign language and passed with good grades.
Then I met a Canadian girl who said 'why don't you come to Canada with me and then we will go to Brazil together next winter?' I said yes and in the summer of 1992, I packed up my job and my stuff and landed in Toronto. In Toronto I met a nice man called Doug, who gave me a job on his sailing schooner, where I met and worked with a guy called Paul (who ended up being the best man at my wedding) At the end of the summer I said to the Canadian girl, lets go to Brazil and she said, Na! So the guys on the boat said, why don't you drive to Florida and then you will get a boat to Brazil.

I drove from Canada to Florida and when I arrived I told everyone I met that I wanted to go to Brazil. One evening about 2 weeks after arriving, I got a call from a nice lady called Yolanda. She said, "Are you the guy I keep hearing about that wants to go to Brazil?" I said, Yes! This is how I met a nice bloke called Vern who was the husband of Yolnda and the captain of a large sailing boat that we were about to sail to Chile. This is also the journey that I made my first transit of the Panama Canal. It was 1993.

After an epic sailing adventure to the wrong  coast of South America I was tired and Vern offered me more work on boats in Florida, Doug offered me my job back on the schooner in Canada and for four years I worked winters in Florida and Summers in Canada. In the last year in Canada I had bought my own sailing boat and lived on it on Toronto Island with the hope of one day sailing it to Brazil. I had also met another Canadian girl. But this was the year that the Canadian Immigration stopped me and my now good friend Paul and decided that we were no longer welcome in Canada and with a large, size ten immigration boot up our butts Paul and I were strongly encouraged to return to the UK.

I set up home in the spare room Paul's small house in Essex and short of work, he got me a job making walking frames for old people, at his families business. Most importantly, that winter he persuaded me that we should take our Yacht Master licence and so we knuckled down and with Paul's encouragement and his kindness of free rent I became a Yacht Master. I had become a sailor and now a qualified one who was making walking frames in Essex and still had a dream of returning to Brazil.

My Canadian girlfriend moved to the UK and we moved together to Brighton where I met a nice man called Andrew, who had just bought the Brighton Marina and offered me a job there. After a year or so at the Marina I met two nice guys called Pip and Pete who offered me a job working for them, looking after the UK sailing for their company, Neilson. By this time I had to sell my boat in Canada for a loss and bought my second boat, a classic wooden sloop which I was able to keep in the Marina on the cheap.
This was the year that a nice guy called Fred who was the husband of one of my mums friends also bought a boat and he invited me and another guy that I had never met to help him sail it from Scotland to Brighton. That is how I met Marco. Marco and I became firm friends quickly. This was also the year I sold my second boat for a big profit and bought my first flat with my second Canadian girlfriend.

One day Marco came to the Neilson office where I was working and he told me that he was going to the sea school to check out some courses that he and I should do. That with our experience we could grandfather into getting our 3000 ton commercial masters licence before the rules change in the year 2001. He was excited and I was unsure. A call from Marco that evening. "Meet me in the pub" I walked to the pub and sat down he had bought me a pint. Right, he said. " we are booked on to the course this winter and you owe me a thousand pounds because I paid your deposit for you!"
I was broke, in a fun but not so well paid job and I had not long ago bought the flat. Doing the courses which would take 3-6 moths would be impossible!

We did the courses, for me at a huge risk of nearly 15000 borrowed pounds  My Canadian girl friend and I were helping one another and working hard to follow dreams that would inevitably split us apart, her gaining a job for UNICEF and me working towards my commercial licence. She moved to Africa and not long after that I met an English girl, Claire who in February 2009 became my wife.

It was now 2003 I was at Brighton Marina and a guy called Mike who runs the chandler's was complaining because he never saw his family on the weekend. I said to Mike. why don't I look after the shop tomorrow and you spend the day with your family. It seemed simple to me. That Sunday in Mikes shop I met David, an old school friend. The next week I flew with David to sail a boat with him from Monaco to Cyprus. Then I became captain of that boat for the summer. This was the summer that I was to sit the oral exam for my Commercial license and with a lot of help and patience and encouragement from my girlfriend Claire I managed to pas!

This winter was to be my first trans Atlantic crossing as Bosun with an organisation called the JST on a tall ship called Tenacious. By now my dreams of Brazil had faded and I was a fully qualified and somewhat experienced sailor.

While sat with Marco having coffee in Brighton in 2004, I received a call from a girl called Nikki.
I became Captain for Nikki on her beautiful sailing ship Bessie Ellen because she needed a guy with my ticket and I took my first proper captains job excitedly.
On a summers evening at anchor  on Bessie Ellen in Scotland, one of the guests that week was a Canadian lady. After the years that had passed we had not recognised one another from our brief meeting some years before. She had sold her boat to me! The one I lived on in Toronto and loved so much had been hers and she had stood and cried at the dock as I sailed it away that summer in Toronto. Another circle closing. I always take these signs that perhaps I am on the right path.

Another call from Marco a few years later. He had been promoted to chief officer on a large yacht and there was a second officer position going. I joined the yacht without hesitation, excited to work with Marco.Another opportunity came up for him and he left before I even arrived, which meant that I met a guy called Brendan. When Brendan left to take an opportunity as Captain, I stepped up as chief officer and the following year I had a call from Brendan who suggested I apply for a captains position for the guy he was now working for. I applied for the job and got it! I Joined this yacht as Captain 5 years ago on the 6th of May 2008 and on the 4th of May 2013 I changed course for Brazil!

I wonder if I had not wanted to return to Brazil, if any of the above would have happened at all. I have friends that have been along for this whole ride and some that I have met on the way but with the closing of this circle I thank all of my friends for a wonderful adventure. Long may it continue.

Ironically, in a week or so we will arrive in Brazil and as soon as my little feet hit the land they will be running as fast as they can for the airport and a plane to take me home to England. This is because my beautiful wife is due to give birth to our second child and like in the story of the 'Alchemist' my treasure is not in Brazil but at home at the small house with the blue door, behind which me and my growing family are safe and happy.

Panama Canal

This was my sixth crossing of the Panama Canal. My first transit was 20 years ago in 1993. That was on a 53 foot sailing boat on our way to Chile! Like all things it is good to have some experience, to know what to expect but the canal never fails to impress. It is awesome and it always feels like an epic adventure. The size of the locks and the massive ships that I usually spend my whole life trying to give as much space to as possible are shoulder to shoulder, passing within 20 meters rather than a mile or two.

The canal it self is due to celebrate it's 100th birthday in 2014 but even after 99 years they still need two men in a rowing boat to pass the lines that connect the ships to the towing mules. Each mule reportedly costing a staggering five million dollars each!

Moon lit nights are over

The passage through this part of the pacific has been beautiful and we have been treated to clear skies, calm weather and a growing moon.

Reflection from the bow on a clam day



Moonlit night almost as bright as day. 1 second shutter shows

Birds and Turtles

As we have sailed south on this passage, the season has changed. The endless blue horizon is the same but the latitudes have slowly slipped by and the tropical heat has joined us. We are enjoying calm seas, beautiful weather and moon lit nights. Yesterday a large pods of dolphins joined us for some time in the morning and we saw whales breaching as the afternoon turned to evening.

One thing that I had never seen before but seems to be very in fashion at the moment, is sea birds taking a rest on the back of turtles.. It is amazing, that rather than an occasional or even once in a life time sighting we have seen lots. I even managed to get a photo of one today!

Hula Girl

This little minx has been on the dash board here since Christmas of 2008 when she was given to me by one of the crew on my first visit to the Hawaiian islands. She has bobbled her way across a lot of ocean since then and has become a part of the furniture.
When we have new crew, they always pick her up to see if she has underwear on. She is not telling you..

Out at Sea

A few days ago, we left the dock slowly on a beautiful morning and slipped quietly out of the harbour through the wide buoyed channel. Dolphins playing in our bow even while we were still in the harbour and sea lions barking their farewell to us as we passed them sitting precariously on the marker buoys.

I really enjoy the beginning of a voyage and this was no exception to that. The bridge doors were open the crew busy tidying away lines and fenders and the boat and crew settling into the rhythm of a sea voyage. It is always helpful when the weather is bright and sunny and southern California had not let us down. I wrote in the log, the time that we passed the last marker buoy of the channel and set the course and speed, sipped my coffee and felt relaxed and calm, standing on the bridge wing and taking in the warmth of the morning sun and feeling the boat give in to the first swell of the Pacific ocean.

We will be at sea for 10 days and nights, 3000 miles ahead us.

Enthusiastic buying of flowers

I put down the phone and looked at my watch.  I had accepted an invitation for dinner that very evening. Ricky the charismatic, enthusiastic & internationally renowned painter of boats had invited me and a few of the crew to dinner. His team had been painting our boat a week or two ago and he was taking them out to thank them for their hard work. I like Ricky a lot and have worked with him a few times over the years but Sunday evening, I wasn’t really in the mood. In my mind an evening out with 10 or so Vietnamese guys, spells Karaoke. This is not one of my skills and being out on a semi-professional standing, meant that nowhere near enough alcoholic stimulant was going to be in me for this kind of a caper. Thinking on my feet I made my way to the crew mess, seeking out Noel a Philippines lad with excellent Karaoke talents and Wayne who is our token yank, when in the states you never know when you might need someone to explain the finer points of that culture to you. Fortunately they were keen to join me and so I was not alone when Ricky turned up in his rental car to pick us up.

In typical style we did not know what to expect, this simple evening out was actually a charity diner that was organized by the Vietnamese community to raise money for blind kids in Vietnam, 300 plus Vietnamese people from within the San Diego community plus one Pilipino, an American and an excited bloke from the UK. Our host had booked several tables for his workers, their families and his own  friends, family and business  associates.

The belly dancer was hypnotic, the Vietnamese Elvis was hilarious, the music was random and I didn’t understand a word of what was going on. The colours were vibrant, the food incredible, the kindness and generosity of this community was staggering and I didn’t have to sing Karaoke.

The buying of flowers had started slowly by the young guys at our table, who were stashing them and waiting for the opportunity to give them to their favourite performer. Obviously buying raffle tickets and flowers helped the cause and soon we were buying flowers to give to all of the entertainers. Ricky our host caught on and started stealing the flowers from our table and giving them back to the vendors to re sell again. The enthusiastic buying and giving of flowers continued until the entertainment finished and our wallets were empty.

I left feeling inspired by these lovely people and with no money left in my wallet but as I sit and reflect on this event, I am thankful for the continued opportunity to expand my friends across cultures and for the random meeting of amazing people and the interesting situations that I meet them in.

Leaving for work

When I started writing here I made a conscious decision not to write about my emotions or in detail about my family. There are plenty of fathers blogging about their kids and it is amazing to see our little guy grow, so it does seem a shame sometimes not to share some of the incredible humour that he comes out with but that is another story for a more private place.

Work is enjoyable and challenging and so I like the job and the adventure of it. Lately it has been getting harder and harder to leave my family, to fly across the planet and join the boat. This time my heart was smashed into little pieces. Smiling faces on Skype reassure me though and I get to say hi most days and as work is busy, my mind is occupied and so the time when I get to go back to see them again will come round fast.

On an early morning run along the waterfront I ran round the park and remembered this huge sculpture of a sailor kissing his girlfriend. Claire and I stood under it for a photo a few years back. The statue was a happy reminder of that weekend, I had a pang of sadness for all of the goodbyes we have had since. On the flip side of course, the sculpture is actually a  reunion. 

Signs that it is time to go back to work

One of the drawbacks to working away is that leaving home after an extended period is very hard. It is like Sunday evening to the power of 10 recurring or something. One of the first admissions to self, that it is time to go back to work is that I go to the Kayak club and retrieve my surf boat and my gear and put it away in my garage. The sad truth is that on this stint at home I didn't really manage to get out much and use it but writing this now is making me want to plan a small surf trip for the summer.

Bivouac

Bivouac..noun, a temporary camp without tents or cover used usually by soldiers or mountaineers (or on occasion by a few slightly over refreshed inhabitants of Sussex)

Friday, February 22nd was another classic cold British day and I had been eagerly anticipating the date because it was Bivi night. There is a small group of people I know, that belong to a loose kind of a club called, the Brighton Bivi Club, once a month they set a date to bivouac in the South Downs National Park. I am not usually able to attend and a last minute change of date made it look unlikely for me this time round. However, always keen for adventure my friend Dai agreed to join me and so on that freezing cold evening I met him at his home.

People will either get it or they will not, we don't care. Walking out in the dark, cold snow filled evening we set out across the hills, familiar trails from our long runs in the area, friends chatting and walking, wrapped up in layers against the bitter chill of the winters evening.
The walk, the pub, the sleeping out in the hills amongst the elements is just a glorified sleepover/mid night feast, for grown ups but it is a small way that we can enjoy the adventure and freedom of the outdoors in our busy lives.

After just four miles of walking in the freezing cold the warm ambiance of a village pub, complete with roaring open fires was a little too much warmth. Shedding layers and finding a spot in comfortable old couches by the fire, we settled in for our first pint of local beer. After consuming one beer for each mile walked we decided that it was time to head back out onto the hill to find the spot that we would use for the night's Bivi.

I have some years of experience in the art of bivi'ing out with Dai and not all of them have been good experiences. Some have been absolute classic successes and others, epic fails. My favourite was an Alpine spot we chose, high above the Chamonix valley in France on a beautiful clear summers night, I won't bore you with the epic fails. They are stories in their own right. The point is, if Dai is left to choose the sport on his own the adventure could go either way..He probably feels the same about me.

We headed off up the hill, out of sight from the village and near to a wooded area. If there was a book about it, it would suggest a flat sheltered place, I am also sure that my good friend would have read the book about it. This particular place had one of the two essentials. It was sheltered from the biting wind, Tick. It was not however that flat but now we were full of Harvey's best beer we were keen to set up camp and light a fire.  The area did have lots of wood for the said fire and soon we had set up a temporary shelter with a basher, (a small tarpaulin) tied between trees and a fence and While i quickly set about making a bew of hot chocolate on my stove I left Dai to fire making.

Comedy is not always obvious but now I come to write about it I am laughing. I have spent years doing random outdoor sports and events along with Dai. He has a preferred method for fire lighting which includes using a tampon. Yes! He always carries them just in case. A neat plastic wrapped, tightly packed, bullet of feminine hygiene product is apparently the perfect kindling for the part time adventurer. My hat is off though because by the time my Jet Boil stove started to hiss, his blowing through cupped hands and then frantic flapping of hands had produced a small fire with the interesting technique that he champions.

Tucked up in more duck down and synthetic gear than you can imagine we broke out the rum, French cheese and bread, fruit cake and sat by our fire under our shelter in the light flurry of snow and we were happier for it.

We had Just got settled and Dai piped up that he was not happy with the shelter. Heaven knows why, I was the one compromised by the most slope and was only just benefiting from the poorly rigged material. He was determined and I went along with the beer and rum fuelled decision. After quite a bit of tinkering and pulling and tying of string he was happy. "that is the taught method" he proudly exclaimed. I told you he had read the book. It wasn't really any different and I was still left mostly without shelter but we slept well and after a cup of tea in the morning and a lovely walk back over the hill the adventure was complete in time to join in with our family lives as if we had not been away.

Sometimes a small adventure close to home is much better than no adventure at all.

A Travelling Wilbury sleeping out in the Alps August 2010