Leases, Commuting and Furniture, OH MY!

I have been back “home” in San Francisco for 3 ½ months, yet with how “settled” I guess I am it feels like it could be 3 ½ years. And were it not for still running into friends asking, “hey how was that sailing trip or your Africa thing?” it might feel as if they never happened.

3 weeks after coming home, I received and accepted a job offer from a company acting as a business network for cleantech, renewable energy and sustainable development. My job as Community Manager is to…get this…architect educational and networking conferences within those fields. I write the agendas, find the speakers/panelists and then promote and produce the events. Within a year, I will have personally met everyone who is anyone in the cleantech field in the Bay Area. Score!

About a week after the job came through, I found an apartment in the city, signed a 1-year lease, and moved in a few days later. It is a large 1-bedroom with parking – very central in the city. Then I went a little Craigslist-happy and started buying actual grown-up furniture…I have a matching bedroom set, a couch, and even a dining area for 6.

And yesterday, I finished unpacking the last box and hanging the last picture on the wall.

I wake up every morning around 6 (ok, I end up snoozing until 6:30), shower, eat oatmeal and ride my bike into work. By 16:30, I’m working out in the gym.

I’m dating, sort of, though that doesn’t seem to be going very well yet.

I even managed to make it out to the desert for Burningman, the mother of all excess, to participate in this year’s celebration of cities: Metropolis.

The irony of it all is not lost on me. I’ve gone from a backpack, albeit a heavy one, to an apartment full of stuff that would require a moving truck and beefy boys to deal with. Whereas I spent less than $300 for my solo travels around Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe, my latest credit card bill is five times that. On the boat, my “worries” were about as worrisome as which movie to watch, whether or not it was warm enough to stay up on the flybridge for my night watches without a jacket, and if I had to sew the patch on the damn gennaker again. Here, now, well, I worry about a lot more – though why I do is a good question to ponder.

A part of me feels hypocritical. Did I not learn anything from living sparsely on the bare necessities? Why am I bogging myself down with earthly possessions and legally binding documents? Another part of me feels content with putting down roots, for now, knowing that the big wide world is out there to sail off into and explore when the time is right in the future. I mean, hey, we all know I can do it. .

Someone asked me last night what I came home with after my experiences abroad for a year. I am always noticeably aware of how gluttonous my surroundings are, and how excessive I, just by simply living in this world, can be. (Though my only clothing purchases have been at Goodwill and I always shut off the water while brushing my teeth. Ehem, in full disclosure though, I do linger too long in my luxurious hot showers.) It is very easy to blink my eyes and have a camera click shutter sound go off in my head and see my environment drop away and get replaced by my environment in Namibia. I look at the nice pens and pencils on my desk and flash to the 1-inch shred of wood my learners used to painstakingly copy their notes. The list goes on and on, but it boils down to an awareness, which at this point in time I don’t feel will ever fully leave me, that we in the Western world are blessed and so much of the rest of the planet does without. (Yes, yes, there is the question of do material goods equate to a better life….I’m not going to go there.) AND, there’s a quiet satisfaction that comes with knowing that should I choose, I could toss it all and move to Zimbabwe to teach or sail into the sunset. Last but not least, I am cognizant of my need for and value of deep human connection, making me ever more grateful for my loved ones – my mom, my friends – being able to talk to them every day, hug them and laugh together.

For now though, I am here living a “normal” life in San Francisco. I am happy with my decision to come home. I am proud of myself for recognizing my fears and facing them head on rather than running from them. I feel as though I am in alignment with and in the good graces of the Universe.

Thanks for following. Until the next adventure……….Jen Jackson, out.

Home Sweet Home

Dorothy had it right; there really is no place like home. The world is full of jaw-droppingly beautiful places, amazing cultures to interact with, and damn fun things to do, but for this girl, the rest of the world isn't home. San Francisco Bay is. I am blessed. Every so often my wanderlust kicks in, I dream up some wacky international adventure, and I make it happen. But I always have SF to come back to (regardless of whether or not my name is on a lease there). My friends have welcomed me back with open arms, and in the case of my dear friend Deb, she's opened her home to me as well.

I've hit the ground running by polishing up my resume and applying to several positions, plus talking to a couple of entrepreneurial friends getting their own companies off the ground. (Know of a job? Email/Call me!) I'm also offering my services to anyone interested as a personal assistant - someone who can wait around during those annoying 4 hour furniture delivery or internet service windows, go to the DMV, etc. all of the things you'd normally have to take time off of work for but really don't want to. (Need a hand? Call/Email me!) And thankfully, I have at least a few weeks of get-togethers with friends who want to hear stories of the high seas to keep me busy.

In my last post I said I was afraid of coming home because I didn't know what to do with myself there and of the state of the economy. Now that I'm actually here it doesn't seem that bad. There seem to be more job listings than there were last year. I suspect there are a lot more applicants too, but at least jobs are out there. My spirits and confidence are up. There's a reason "JenJackson" is a verb. JenJacksoning is setting out to do something and getting it done.

I'm still a little regretful about not meeting back up with the Spirit of Nyami Nyami for a bit of actual fun cruising through French Polynesia. I made the right decision though. It's time to be home for a good long while. I'll cross the Pacific again someday; I know it, but next time it'll be on my boat with my person or my people ;-)

As you likely tuned into this blog for adventure tales, and I started it to write them, this will be my last post. It has been an absolute pleasure to share my stories with you all and know that you've enjoyed reading them. Thanks for all the support and well wishes along the way. And remember, next time you dream up an adventure, don't let it pass you by - JenJackson it, you'll be so glad you did.

Love,
Jen

Pictures...FINALLY!

I've got 3 albums for ya:

LOTS of sunset pictures (can't be helped) - a handful of giggly narrative videos...
Hope you like em.

To the Galapagos

Pacific Passage

French Polynesia

Purpose

The ticket isn't booked yet, but it's really only because they are ridiculously expensive and my mom and I are trying to find the absolute cheapest we can. 

I'm coming home this weekend.

It dawned on me today while scrubbing <i>Bubas</i> clean for the owners arriving tonight...I'm now out here for the wrong reasons.  I said I wanted to cross the Pacific, and that I'd keep going if the circumstances were right.  But you see, the "keep going" part was really just to avoid going back home.  So now that I've completed the passage and I've been struggling to find the right situation to continue, I have to be honest with myself.  I'm only still here because I'm afraid of going home.  I should well know by now, if you do something or go somewhere for the wrong reasons, it's never going to feel right.  I could say that I'm here for the sailing and the travel and the lifestyle, and while there's a part of me that's *definitely* into it (and still wants to do it when the time is right), the part that's just staying out for the sake of staying out far outweighs the former. 

Some of you might be asking yourselves what about home scares me.  The answer is I don't know what to do with myself back there.  The economy is in the poo poo house; very smart and capable people I know have been looking for work for well over a year.  And San Francisco isn't exactly a cheap place to wait it out.  Course, as I'm finding, neither is the South Pacific.  I operate best in a startup/small company environment, and the areas I'm most passionate about are green technology, renewable energy, sustainable development, etc.  I've been putting out some feelers (ok, 1 feeler) but in these uncertain times, everything is, well, uncertain.  So if any of you out there know of an opportunity, please send me an email.  I'm willing to take ANY job for the time being too.  I don't need the perfect position, I just need to not be sitting on my hiney day in and day out.  Oh, I also need a place to live.  I'll be staying with a friend for a bit, but a 6 month (cheap) sublet or something while I sort myself out would be awesome. 

So let this be a lesson to you all.  When you set out to do something, make sure the reasons for doing so are pure in your heart.  If they aren't, while you may find yourself in one of the most beautiful places on earth, you won't be happy.

Fun Solid Beating

You're scratching your head going "what on earth is she talking about?"  This post actually covers these 3 words as separate topics, but I'm in a weird mood this morning and thought I'd jumble it all up.

There are several instances of everyday sayings being derived from nautical terminology, "three sheets to the wind", "posh", "tie one on", etc.  But there's at least one time that I believe sailors borrowed from the general public.  When you sail upwind or worse, dead on-the-nose (whatever the direction the wind is coming from is the precise direction you need/want to go), sailors call it "beating".  I imagine a crew long ago got their hineys kicked in a bar brawl on the night before heading out to sea.  They were made to sail into the wind and as the ship bashed about into the waves one of them says, "Man, this feels just like the beating we took last night."  Tahiti is southeast of Raiatea.  Forecast:  30-35 kts of wind out of the southeast, 2.5-3 meter (7.5-9 feet) seas out of the south.  This, friends, made for a proper BEATING.  Thank god for two big engines though.  We're trying to make Tahiti during business hours on this Friday so that I can track down my shipment of Accutane.  I run out today.  And, though I'm 4th on the waiting list for a flight to the Marquesas tomorrow, I'm still going to go and sit at the airport and try and get on the flight.  But I can't do that unless i get my pills.  And if I can't get my pills, I have to get them Monday, but Air Tahiti tells me the next available flight isn't until Wednesday. 

I'm heading to the Marquesas to rejoin the <i>Spirit of Nyami Nyami</i> in an effort to try and have some FUN over here.  I think I may have mentioned this before.  Apologies if so.  I am simply not having a good time and haven't since making landfall.  We have gone from Rangiroa to Bora Bora to Raiatea, all quite populated busy islands.  With the exception of 2 delightful days with some Americans on a nearby boat, I've been in the company of French speaking people who generally do not feel compelled to try and include me in the conversation at all.  I've been choking on the prices of each and every little thing, and frustrated with not being able to get a SIM card so I can at least whine to my mom about it all.  Bora Bora, while beautiful, is an island full of pretty unhappy people with a lot of negative energy.  This is confirmed both by Jean, a former resident of 12 years and his friend Terry, a current resident.  It took me a couple of days just to get my mood to a more reasonable level after leaving there.  Raiatea was better, especially because we were at a dock and I had the freedom to come and go, and that's where I met my new American friends.  But I hear other cruisers talk of going to itty bitty islands and going spearfishing with the locals and trading for pearls and awesome scuba diving.......and I'm getting none of that, just the price tag of French Polynesia.  So I'm hoping <i>Nyami</i> will help me experience these islands as they should be experienced, and to have some fun. 

Whether it's the lack of fun, or the news of Bob's death, or the fact that I've accomplished my goal of crossing the Pacific, or just cosmic forces at work, I've been experiencing an increasing desire to go home.  I was thinking about it for a little while without saying anything.  Then I started mentioning it to a few people.  Now I've begun kicking around ideas for what going home would look like.  My friend Mota helped frame the feelings for me.  He said, "Jen, you seem to be ready for something SOLID.  Sailing around on other people's boats may be fun, but it is anything but solid."  I think "solid" in the cruising lifestyle means you're with a partner or family, or you have your own boat.  I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't hoping I'd find said partner out here and we'd sail off together into the sunset (oh comeon I had to say it).  But so far there doesn't seem to be any 35-45 single men singlehanding and looking for a lady out here.  And doing it on my own?  Well folks, I'm kinda lonely.  I've had an awful lot of alone time for the past year, in fact, about 11 months worth.  I miss my friends and family.  I miss my Godson who apparently only cries now when there's something actually wrong (or so his mother tells me).  I miss phone calls.  I miss hugs.

I got it into my head during one of my watches last night that if I can't get this plane to go back to Don's boat, that I'd just catch one to L.A. instead (then S.F.)  I don't know if that's what I'm going to do; that's pretty rash, even for me.  And I do believe I really should give fun a chance.  But home is calling, and it's getting louder and louder.

Death and Facebook

The biggest quiet concern about travelling to far away lands is that something will happen to your loved ones when you are away.  I say 'quiet' because no one likes to talk about it.  Even worse is when you're going to be out of touch for a while.  The first time you check your email you can hardly contain yourself with all the excitement of hearing from friends and family, but at the same time you silently dread the worst.

Sadly, when I arrived in French Polynesia after the 30 day passage, I learned that a friend of mine, Bob Seymour, had passed away the previous weekend.  International internet connection troubles painfully throttled the pace at which I got the details surrounding his death.  For the first several hours all I knew was that he had died tragically.  Then I learned he had committed suicide, and much later I was told how and why. 

It's a week now since I've known, and still as I sit writing this I'm getting choked up.  I met Bob back in 2003 when I joined the camp "Love Project Unlimited" (LPU) for my first trip to Burningman.  From our introduction to the last time I saw him Bob was nothing short of delightful.  He was always smiling, willing to help and had natural energy in a sea of intoxicants.  Even when something was frustrating or difficult, Bob would be there bearing down, working hard, but still positive and the first to shoot me a grin.  One of my favorite memories of Bob happened out on Market Street.  He rode his bike to work everyday (though I have no idea how, up the hill to Twin Peaks!) and I took the bus, so was often waiting around on the street.  You couldn't miss Bob; he always wore bright yellow neon.  One day I saw him just a little past me and I called out, "BOB!"  He didn't turn around.  So I tried again, "BOB, NICE ASS!!"  That did it; he screeched to a halt and looked around dazed to find me laughing hysterically :-) 

While Bob was certainly someone I could always count on, I can't say that he was a good or a close friend.  I just didn't know the guy that well.  He pretty much always showed up to all events, and we'd have a short to medium length chat, but they were just chats.  I tried to talk-talk with him, learn more about him, but he never seemed open to it.  Everyone else had a similar experience with him...no one *really* knew the guy.  I only had one talk with him, and ironically, it was about death.  Unfortunately, even at my young age (31), I've had to deal with a lot of death.  I've lost very close family, good friends and even a lover.  It was early 2008 and I had just gone through a very difficult time of losing 3 family members over the course of 3 months.  Bob offered his condolences and told me how he'd never really lost anyone he was close to, though he was a fair bit older than I.  He knew he'd have to face it eventually; he was scared and asked how I dealt with it.  I told him that the one thing I had learned is that you have to give yourself permission to grieve as much and for however long you need to.  Everyone is different, so if anyone tells you you *should* be getting over it by now, just tell them where to stick it. 

Now I'm sitting in a beautiful island paradise dealing with *his* death, and everytime I *should* be having fun, diving/snorkeling etc., I'm thinking of him.  (Which I've given myself every right to do.)  Yesterday, the internet connection was relatively stable, so I was cruising Facebook.  I'd wondered what happens to one's profile when you die...what if no one has your password to deactivate your account?  Does it just stay frozen in time?  Should a "Deceased" status be added to the Single, In a Relationship, and Married list?  As it turns out, at least for Bob anyway, his Facebook page has turned into a memorial of sorts.  Loads of people have posted messages, photos and condolences and notices went up about services and gatherings.  The messages were the most poignent.  "You made the world a better place."  "Thank you for always being there with a smile on your face."  "I wish I knew you better; what little I knew was wonderful."  ALL these people pouring out ALL this love to Bob in a medium he isn't likely to see (unless Facebook is available in the afterlife, which isn't entirely outside of the realm of possibility, but still...).  I couldn't help but think, what if we told each other how much we love and care for one another BEFORE we go, maybe in such a way that we can save it and look at it when we get low.  Bob said in his note that he knew he had support from many friends, but he didn't feel he could turn to anyone for help.  Maybe if he knew the depth of everyone's love and support, saw it immortalized on his profile, just maybe.................

Is there a "Tell me How Much You Care About Me and Why" or "Living Memorial" Facebook app?  There should be. 

Bob, I wish we had talk-talked more.  I loved your energy, your smile, your selflessness and how you always seemed to be boppin to music.  You could have called on me for anything.  I'll miss you...and your nice ass.

A Drop in the Bucket

May 20

Going to sea now for just a couple of days feels like a drop in the bucket.  2 days?  Pssshhtt.  That doesn't even register after 30 days.  However, it is enough to make me all warm and fuzzy happy again.  I do love it out here.

While I miss having a buddy (Oly), it's nice to take a more active role with the boat.  Jean has a great deal of experience, but there's something about his manner which makes it feel like this is really a co-skipper arrangement.  We're sharing the duties well.  He has local knowledge of where we should go, but the only detailed chart we have is what's on my computer.  And he's new to the workings of the Raymarine chart plotter and auto pilot.  So he points to the place we need to go on my computer chart, and I enter it into our route for the autopilot.  I'm glad to be pulling my weight.  If I weren't here things would be considerably more difficult for him, not only the navigation, but also dealing with arriving and departing (launching/securing the dinghy, anchoring) and the obvious round-the-clock watch-keeping.  Elze, though I'm sure she means well, has the unfortunate combination of timidness and poor to no English plus not ever having been on a boat before.  So when we ask her to do something plus gesturing and demonstrating, we're met with "Eh?"  It's fine - Jean and I are quickly sorting out our little team.

We had no wind for the first full day, but we are finally cruising along now under main and jib at about 6-7 knots.  Life is good. 

Well, sailing life is good.  Food life?  Notsomuch.  We're down to the bottom of the barrel from the crossing, and since food was so expensive in Rangiroa, we opted for just a few basics.  Sadly, no fish have found their way to us either, so dinner tonight consisted of opening up 3 cans and boiling a package of pasta.  Yum.  BUT, I did get inspired this afternoon and decided I could figure out how to make tortillas sans Google instructions.  (I had a failed attempt about a week ago.)  But today, SUCCESS!  I wanted to do beef tacos, but we have no beef so it was turkey chili + rice + a mild picante I mixed up.  It was actually pretty good, though it was chili and you wouldn't think so.  (The tortillas were the best part!)

Very early this morning we will arrive in Bora Bora.  Jean asked me tonight what Americans think Bora Bora means.  I said "honeymoon".  He laughed and agreed.  He said it's like that for people from all around the world.  He doesn't know why it got that reputation, but it is his personal belief that it's one of the most beautiful places in the world.  It'll be nice to be there with a (former) resident.  He worked for years at the Club Med there before it shut as well.  Can anyone give me a "Hands UP"? :-)

UPDATE:  Arrived Safe and Sound in Bora Bora, 0800 local time May 21, 2010

Le Plan

(How'd ya like that French, eh?)

Well, now we are 3.  Oly left yesterday to make his way to the states for a EMT course he's taking.  It's Jean, Elze and me now.  I miss him, and English.  I got so excited today when I met a couple from England that I just started blabbing within a second of hearing them speak.  But the 3 of us get along fine, albeit without much chatter.

Anyway, our plan is to head to Bora Bora tomorrow morning.  It's about a 40 hour sail.  Jean has family and friends there that he wants to visit.  Then we will go to Raitea (sp?) for a day or two and then on to Tahiti by the 27th.  In Tahiti, I'll be able to pick up my medicine and then we'll do a proper scrub down of the boat.  The owners are arriving on or around the 30th.

I've been in touch with Don from <i>Spirit of Nyami Nyami</i> and they are happy to re-adopt me.  They made it safely to the Marquesas, which gives me a renewed confidence in the crew and vessel.  And, I miss the easy camaraderie with them.  We are still sorting out if they will be coming to Tahiti around the 30th or if I need to go and meet up with them.  I'm hoping the former as flights here are super expensive.

Actually, EVERYthing is super expensive.  I'm talking unbelievably so.  1 normal size bottle of local beer and 1 hour of internet is $5.60 US. 

I went for a scuba dive today.  It was ok, though not spectacular.  Saw a couple of medium size silver-tip reef sharks, a huge swarm of jack fish that you see pictures of all spiraled up, a small moray and a small lion fish.  But the rest of the day was spent getting diesel.  Ay vey.  We had to make 2 trips with our 4 5gal jerry jugs to get 40 gallons.  Each trip involves dinghying to the beach, heaving it up on shore, treking out to the road, hitchhiking to the other end of the island where the Shell is, hitchhiking back, dinghy back in water, back to boat, emptying each jug one at a time into the tanks.  Btw, hitchhiking with 3 people = not easy.  It took all afternoon and it was blistering hot.

I'm looking forward to being back on Nyami - it'll be crowded and WAY less comfortable than Bubas, but it'll be nice to have friends again, hang out with other boats and be social.  The next 10 days are going to be pretty quiet for me.

Land HO!

May 15, 2010

We're 153nm from Rangiroa, and we've already started passing a few little islands.  We're aiming to arrive early tomorrow morning.  Birds have been showing up in greater frequency over the last 5-6 days, and every once in a while I find that my sinuses are a little stuffed up.  Now this is pure conjecture, but as we're in vicinity of land, albeit little bits of land (Marquesas are directly North and some little islands of French Polynesia are to the South), I'm guessing that allergens are getting carried in the air. 

French Polynesia (FP) covers an area of the South Pacific Ocean about the size of Europe. It is made up of over 100 islands in five archipelagos.  Rangiroa is in the Tuamotus Archipelago, once called the Dangerous Archipelago on account of its treacherous currents and lurking reefs.  We were not provided with the electronic charts for this area, so our chart plotter which is what steers the boat is useless as we get closer.  We have a large scale paper chart for SE Polynesia to help us avoid the little islands, and thankfully, I have very detailed electronic charts on my computer, but we're going to be doing a lot of eyeball navigation.

Oly is a bit stressed.  He has a flight from Tahiti to the U.S. on the morning of the 18th.  We MUST get in tomorrow (16th) so he can fly from Rangiroa to Tahiti on the 17th, when he'll have to sort out hotel and taxi and all that jazz to make his flight. 

We've had rough weather over the last 18 hours or so, going through several squalls.  In the worst of it, the autopilot couldn't hold a course (we had to go straight into the wind and waves), so I was hand steering on a joystick down below.  (A joystick, seriously?  I said to Oly, "I've never used one of these before."  His answer: "Playstation Generation"  (Remember he's 24 going on 25)).  Anyway, we got through it no problems.  This morning we've got more rain but no wind or wind on the nose, so we're motoring.

The owners are aiming to arrive in Tahiti around May 30, and they've given Jean permission to take the boat to Bora Bora where his daughter lives.  I don't really know what I'm going to do.  I've got to get to Tahiti by May 25 to pick up my next batch of Accutane.  FP is very very expensive to stay on land, with very few if any sort of hostels.  So unless I quickly find another boat to jump on, I may stay with Bubas to Tahiti, Bora Bora, then back to Tahiti.  We shall see. 

Do We Have To Arrive?

May 11

Day 17 out of Galapagos, Day 25 out of Panama.  We're 700 miles out of Rangiroa and 900 from Tahiti.  Depending on the wind, we'll likely arrive at one of the two some time on Sunday, 6 days from now.  Aside from wanting a few simple things (to know that my friends and family are all well, fresh fruit and more soy milk), I don't really want to make landfall.  I could easily stay out for another week or two, and if we didn't have to be in Tahiti by the 18th for Oly's flight, we'd all vote to slow way down (except for Elze).  Sure, it helps that we're all easily getting along, the routine is comfortable, Oly has an inexhaustible supply of movies, I have an inexhaustible supply of books plus more things I *could* be doing if motivated, etc. etc.  I don't understand why long passages aren't more appealing to sailors.  Get the formula right, and it's kind of heaven. 

You don't have to do any 'deciding' out here.  My big daily decisions are: lay out or not?, nap or not?, write or do divemaster review or not?, which films today? and if I'm making dinner, what will it be?  A few more important ones come up every few days in regards to sailing or the boat, but those are a far cry from "what are you doing with your life? and am I happy?"  Know what I mean?  I've read stories of sailors, particularly singlehanders (people who sail alone), who get close to land, freak out and turn around and go back out for another few days or a week.  "AHHHH, people, conversation, money, noise...NO!" 

I realize you can't stay away forever, that in this day and age just about everybody has to come back into the proverbial port.  I suppose all I can do is be thankful that I've gotten this chance to cooommmppllleeetteelllyy unplug for so long. 

Arrival for me means having to find another boat (sigh), schlepping around my way too heavy backpack and paying exorbitant sums for food and accommodation in Tahiti if I need to stay on land at all.  No bueno.  The 'find another boat' task brings up an interesting possibility that those of you who have been following from the beginning of the adventure will appreciate...Spirit of Nyami Nyami set out from Cabo San Lucas bound for the Marquesas on April 16, same day we left Panama.  It is rumoured to be a 30 day trip from there, so they'd be arriving May 16th ish.  To fill you in, while I was in Curacao I was in regular contact with Don from Nyami.  When it became clear that things weren't peachy for me, he started trying to woo me back.  When Todd offered to fly me to Panama and put me up in a hotel, Don said, hey, just fly straight back to Mexico.  When Bubas was still so iffy but it was my last chance sitting in Panama, I truly started considering it.  I had fewer reservations about the strength of the boat - Don and Ben had been working daily toward ensuring her safety, but what put me off was by then, they'd picked up a few more crew.  Total on board:  6!!  I would make 7!!  Jeeebbuuuss that's too many people for only a 53' boat.  You'd be on top of each other.  It'd be like a sleepover for a whole month!  Bleh.  Anyhow, come landfall, I'll once again have the opportunity to reclaim my Nyamian status.  It's a tempting proposition.  I'm hoping that one or two folks will want to get off though.  Her final destination is New Zealand by November, so it'd be leisurely cruising through the S.Pac island till then.  As you know, it was a very sociable boat, and it could end up being a ton of fun.  We shall see, dear Readers, we shall see.

My Lucky Stars

May 14

One of the predominant themes of my last year has most definitely been the sky, that humongous, all-encompassing, awe-inspiring sky that is so easy to ignore or take for granted in most places on earth, but in Africa and on the ocean provides for endless enjoyment and appreciation. 

If you forgot about all the sunset shots from Africa, I'll remind you with my sunset set from the Pacific.  It's nearly impossible not to photograph the sky some evenings.  And, I think the #1 best sunset ever spot has been uprooted by one from this passage.  Check it out. 

There are absolutely no effects applied to this picture; just point and click.  (For the record, Africa still dominates the top 10...I think it's the smoke in the air from all the burning trash that adds the color, lovely :-)

The sun is our favorite and most important star, yes, but I do so love all the rest of them.  See, you can't stare at the sun, or even the moon with too much interest for that long.  I love a full moon, don't get me wrong, but give me a moonless, cloudless, starry night over a full moon anytime.  The starry sky in Africa, particularly where I was in Namibia and the Okavango Delta in Botswana, was nothing short of incredible.  The clarity and brightness there, in my opinion, is unparalleled. 

Six months later though I find myself under the #2 spot in the best starry sky lineup, the middle of the Pacific ocean.  And what makes it even more incredible is that for two whole hours in the middle of the night (Midnight to 2am), I'm awake.  Usually I go up on the fly bridge with my ipod (yes, Marion, I'm *still* listening to Disintegration a lot), lay back and just gaze.  I've lost track of the number of standard-issue shooting stars I've seen.  By standard-issue I mean they're about the size of a pin prick, you see them for just a split second and they seem very far away.  Last night though, holy moly, there was a shooting star that was about golf ball size with two super long and clear tails that seemed like it was *right there*!  It was visible for so long that I caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye, then turned to see it whizz by for another maybe 2 seconds.  And a few nights ago, I saw a full-on meteorite.  Again, relatively speaking, it was around the size of a grapefruit.  Little fiery bits were flying off it as it plummeted, presumably into the sea.  Goodness gracious! 

When there aren't these rather exciting astronomical events, there are still gazillions of stars.  I guess at the constellations I'm looking at (damn, why don't I bring a star chart?), and seem to see my constellation (the Phoenix that I have tattooed on my back) everywhere I look.  The Milky Way is eerie and fascinating, and I like to think that I could roughly navigate at night if I had to :-) 

How does the saying go?  "Count your lucky stars..."?  I sure am; I'm one lucky girl.   

About As Far From Anything As We Can Get

May 6

As of last night, we were around 1800 nautical miles (nm) from the Galapagos and about 1600 nm from Rangiroa, where we are headed.  (We're not going to be able to make it all the way to Tahiti in time for Oly's flight on the 18th.  Rangiroa is the closest we can get that has an airport).  So, we're "in the middle of no where" as they say.  It freaked me out a little bit a couple of days ago.  I mean, what if someone got really hurt?  It dawned on me then how important it is for all of us to be very careful, for everyone's sakes.  Anyway, we're now a regular part of a SSB radio net, everyday, in the morning and early evening.  We report our position and conditions to several boats in the area.  The idea being, if anything *were* to happen, other people nearby know generally where we are, where we're headed, and what's going on on board.  Our EPIRB transmits our position to the owner daily as well, but he wouldn't be much of a first responder over in Australia if something were to go wrong.

But nothing is going wrong, I'm happy to report.  Well, we are out of fresh produce, so that isn't so nice.  But we have lots of Mahi Mahi still plus loads of canned food.  But meals are going to start to get pretty depressing from here on out. 

We have run into one snafu though, with our sail situation.  Bubas has a main, a jib and a gennaker.  The main and jib and general rig of the boat are meant for upwind and reach conditions.  Downwind, the setup doesn't work so well for a number of reasons that I won't bore you with.  Our gennaker is designed for light-ish downwind sailing.  Just before we left Panama, it had been repaired - a fairly large rip along the leach.  We put it up about 10 days ago for about 10 hours, and it ripped in the same place, plus another spot further up.  I worked for ~3 days to put a patch on either side of the top hole (patch came from a pair of shorts on board), and used duct tape and stitching to repair the original tear.  Up she went again, this time lasting around 5 hours before opening up in the same spot.  (The top patch held well.)  We decided the bottom bit really needed a bit patch on both sides, so we used some old flags - Bahamas and Panama.  It took another 3 days of sewing, a couple of blisters and bloody finger tips, but I'm finally done (and we're out of sail thread too so there's really no more sewing in my future thankfully).  In a couple of hours, we'll run her up again to see how she does.  If it tears again, there's nothing more we can do about it, and we'll have to make due with what we have.

On the face front, I'm pretty miserable, but again thankful that only 3 people are here to see it.  Still no perceptible side effects, but my chin is an absolute mess.  I am going to try to keep repeating outloud, "I will have a healthy face."

Elze continues to be seasick off and on.  After so much time out here you'd think she'd have found her sea legs, but I guess some people never do.  Poor thing.

We're all continuing on with our mellow rhythm we've established.  I tend to nap for a bit after lunch, then Oly and I usually watch a movie.  I come up for my 6pm watch and sometimes help with or cook dinner.  Then I have some alone time as everyone heads for bed.  Between 8 and 10 I usually watch another movie, then sleep for 2 hours before I'm on again at midnight.  The last few nights have been absolutely stunning.  There's no better place for stargazing; I only wish I had a star chart to learn more constellations.  The moon rise last night was one for the mental photo album, and I've stopped counting shooting stars. 

I think we've got about 10 days left to go. 

PS - the gennaker ripped in a new spot above my patch after about 45 minutes.  We're stuck with an unhappy main and and undersized jib, but still making good progress - doing 145-185 nm a day!

Fish Fabulous!

May 3

Man, we have been catching Mahi Mahi like they're going out of style.  We sort of ran out of lures because the damn marlin kept taking them, so Jean made one with the head of an old lure and some frayed rope.  Then bing bang boom we caught 3 mahi in 4 days (we were happy to have 1 day off).  They've gotten progressively bigger in size, the first (Tom) was maybe 3-4 pounds, the second (Dick) 5-7 and today's (Harry) was 15-20 pounds!

I told Oly several days ago that I wanted to learn to clean them, so when we got Tom, he cleaned and fileted him slowly while instructing.  We agreed I'd do the next one.  Sure enough Dick came along the following day, and I was up on deck.  A few pictures......
Aside from the couple of times that it flopped WELL AFTER being dead and splattering blood all over me which prompted quite the squeals, I jumped right in there and did the whole thing start to finish.  YAY ME!

Harry came along today, and he was big, very big (though Oly tells me he wasn't even in the same ballpark as big).  I let Oly do the honors as it was decided it should be made into steaks which means cutting through the backbone multiple times.

So we're going to be a little sick of Mahi Mahi after this trip, but seeing as how our protein ran out before Galapagos, none of us are complaining (we'd just prefer a tuna at this point :-)

Macguyvering

May 1

We're in a fairly closed system out here all alone in the middle of this great big ocean, particularly in the auditory sense.  The ocean and the weather have their sounds and the boat has her sounds.  Then there's the 4 of us with our voices and our music.  But following those, there's nothing else, unlike on land where there's the odd siren or dog barking or stranger calling out to you.  So yesterday when I heard a funny "whirring/clicking" that I hadn't heard before, I immediately went out to investigate.  It sounded like the fishing reel turning, but more muted.  We didn't have a line out though, so it wasn't that.  I looked up at the sails.  Jib was fine and full, but the main looked....wrong.  I waited a second more and heard the whirring/clicking coming from the main - not right.

I popped my head into the hatch and said to Oly, "Something is wrong with the main." 

He came up, looked around and agreed there was a problem, but it took him a minute to see it - he tugged on a line coming out the boom and came up with a short, frayed bit of line.  "Our first reefing line has snapped.  S#$%."

Reefing is a way to make the main smaller so that when you're in heavy weather you don't have to have all of your sail up running on full power.  Doing so puts too much strain on the rig, and you're liable to break something.  Percentages vary, but 1 reef takes a bit of the sail away, 2 reefs take some more and 3 reefs get you down to a handkerchief.  On this passage we'd been putting 1 reef in fairly regularly.  On the boats I learned to sail on, a busted reefing line is no big deal.  You just run a new line through the proper blocks and off you go.  Bubas is different; she has an "easy" reefing system (I'm not sure of the proper term).  It's great for single-handing and very safe as you can reef from the safety of the helm.  But the price for easy to do is hard to rig.  The reefing lines run through the boom, and as our old line had snapped somewhere in the middle of the boom, we had no way to pull a new line through.

I suggested using one of the lines already in the boom to pull through a new one, but each reefing line has its own block inside the boom up at the mast, and there was no way to reach in and re-route a line attached to another.  So Oly thought of using a weighted fishing line to send down the boom, but we couldn't make it heavy enough and still small enough to come through the other end.  Then we tried attaching the fishing line to an existing line and pulling it through - success!  We still had to get it through the right track up at the mast, and sadly, not a wire hanger lives on the boat (an important addition to every toolbox methinks).  We fashioned a hook out of some rigid wire, and together with some patient threading and my small fingers we were able to get it routed properly.  So now we had a delivery system through the boom - nice!  Then it was just a matter of running the new line and rerunning the one we used.  It wasn't long before we were back in business and sailing along with our newly run first reef in the main.

The whole process took just under 3 hours.  I didn't want to say it at the time as we could've been stuck with a really annoying situation (lacking our 1st reef), but I was having a blast.  I love thinking through problems without an obvious answer...digging through everyday items in search of a hidden tool, having mini successes and failures through the various steps A-Z to solve the problem.  I call it "Macguyvering".  (I watched Macguyver religiously everyday after school, followed by 90210, I was an odd girl.) 

So in the end, we have a brand new first reefing line, Oly and I got a healthy dose of Macguyvering and you got a blog post.  All is well.

Face Update

April 28

A couple of days before joining Bubas, I started on the 20mg dose of Accutane.  Once again, I was nervous taking it.  Up until that point, I still hadn't experienced any noticeable side effects.  I braced for cracked lips and peeling skin.  But one day rolled into the next, and now I'm 2 weeks into the new dosage.

One of the controversial points about Accutane has been teen suicide, but it's nearly impossible to say conclusively if the two are linked.  Teennagers are a depressed lot and some commit suicide.  Teennagers (and adults) get depressed when they've got acne covering their faces and they feel as though they look disgusting.  Teennagers with acne trouble eventually end up on Accutane (in the U.S., often on much higher dosages - 40mg to 80mg).  So does Accutane cause suicide?

Don't worry, now, your author is not going to jump off the boat after tying an anchor to her foot.  But I DO GET how feelings of hopelessness can build up about your face.  Following the dosage increase, I seemed to get worse.  New big blemishes daily, lasting for days on end.  To be fair, this is only happening on my chin.  The rest of my face seems to be nearly clear and staying that way.  I know that there was a chance I'd get worse before I got better.  But jeeeezzzz, when do I get better already?  It has me wondering if this stuff is even doing anything at all?  (Which leads to wondering if I'm doomed with no hope of improvement for life.)  So, ya, I understand how depression can creep in and take over, but I personally wouldn't blame the Accutane.

I'm lucky.  I'm "stuck" on a boat for 3ish more weeks where only 3 other people have to look at me.  Jean and Elze rarely talk to me so I'm guessing they look at me even less.  So really it's only Oly that sees what I think of as my awful face.  He's a boy though, so when it comes down to it, he's probably looking elsewhere ;-) 

I still have high hopes that when I step off the boat in the Marquesas or Tahiti, my face will be healthy.

Day 4 - "Marlin Mania"

April 27

We've had 3 long days of being becalmed.  Last night I asked for wind; today we're cruising along under main and jib at 7 knots :-)  (To be fair, this happens to coincide with the last weather report we got in the Galapagos.)  It's kind of amazing to me how morale is subtlely affected by our progress, well, it is and it isn't.  I could understand it if we weren't motoring and making any progress over those 3 days, if we were just bopping and going nowhere.  But we were alternating engines and maintaining 5-6 knots.  On that program, we actually have enough fuel to get us HALF way there!  (1500 nautical miles!)  But everyone was just sort of ho-hum, myself included.  I couldn't bring myself to do anything but my watches, reading and watching movies.  And now today, with the wind, I'm all excited to sit up and write, after making a big ole bowl of guacamole dip.  We did have an injection of adrenaline this morning though.  Jean and Elze were on watch and Oly and I were asleep.  We woke to the fishing reel going - "FISH ON".  Standard procedure is Oly runs for the reel and whoever is on deck slows the boat down (turn into the wind).  Sadly, it turned out to be another marlin (we've hooked 4 now I think and they've taken our precious lures - they're just too big to deal with), so I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.  But after a few minutes, the 'click click click, buuurrrrrr' of the line continued.  So I popped out of my hatch: "Are you trying to reel in a marlin?"  "Yep."  "Oh jebus."

For the next 20-30 minutes, Oly reeled and the rest of us sat nervously taking pictures.  Any minute this massive and massively pissed off fish would be thrashing around deck.  Frankly, I was a bit scared.  We'd caught a few glimpses of it, and it was at least 6 feet long, NOT counting bill.  Oly decided he couldn't do it alone, he needed the boat to help, so I ran up to the helm.  For the next, oh, maybe hour, Oly called out directions for the engines and steering (Port
Engine Forward, Stbd Reverse) and my response would echo his command so he knew I understood.  (It was very seamanlike.)  We got her closer and closer and she's getting more and more tired.  But she got smart and dove under the boat - diagonally, and then back out again.  Yes, she wrapped the line around our prop.  F@#$@!  But we could see her end of the line was still taunt, so she was still hooked.  Then I say, "You want me to jump in and see if I can unhook the line from the prop?"  "Ya."  "OK.(Crap)"

So I run below and throw on my bathing suit and grab my mask.  We can't find the sailing knife so I get handed a kitchen knife instead, in case I need to cut the line.  "This is safe" I say, "Where is she?"  "We don't know."  "Great."  So plop I go, into the water, convinced that this 200+ pound fish with a massive beak is going to be right there thrashing around in my face, while I'm untangling a propeller in my bikini.  Thankfully, she wasn't, and the line was loosely wrapped around the prop so I easily freed it.  But, it was still tight around the rudder, so Oly gave me some slack and I dove down deep to free it.  YES - off we go again! 

Dripping wet, I ran back up to the helm, and we started the whole reel in process over again.  Pour Oly is dripping sweat and exhausted by this point, but he puts in another solid 30 minutes.  Girl's really getting tired now; she comes near and sort of lolls to the surface, wiggles a bit, then lolls some more.  We've got her!  Oly tells Jean to gaff her (hook her in the gills).  Jean tries once and loses her as she goes around the prop.  Crap - line is wrapped again!  Oly grabs the hook and has one shot as she's on the side of the boat and before the line breaks.  Alas, our 2+ hour ordeal ends, sans fish.  Off she goes to fight another day.  Between you and me, I'm glad we didn't get her.  She was massive, as I've said, and it would have been a struggle handling her on deck, cleaning her and dealing with all the meat.  We don't have a working freezer and the fridge isn't huge.  Oly was bummed though, after all that work, and Jean was disappointed that he missed gaffing her.  But what an adventure!!!

Thankfully the wind stayed with us through all of our mucking about, and after I dove the other prop, we got Bubas cruising along again.  Today is the first day I feel like a real sailor.

Deliveries

April 27

You can't fedex a boat.  Well, you *can* ship them but the cost would likely rival that of the boat itself.  9 times outta 10, the boat that you want to buy won't be in your local marina; it may not even be in your country, or your hemisphere.  Most sane people, this author obviously excluded, don't want to sail across oceans or go "the hard way" (against wind/current), ever.  Sailing is supposed to be fun.  But they still want their boat home, so they employ a Delivery crew to get it there. 

Bubas' owner employed Oly and Jean as delivery skippers.  Jean brought Elze along for company, and I managed to talk my way on as an extra (unpaid) hand for the long Pacific passage. 

With very few exceptions, deliveries are not fun, they're not supposed to be fun.  There's a deadline, usually, which means little or no island exploring or "cruising".  Delivery crews often face the worst weather, as they don't have the luxury of waiting for the right time to go.  There's a budget for provisions, which means pretty basic meals.  And there's a pretty much constant fear that you're going to be the one to break something on this boat that isn't yours or even a friend of yours.  If it's a recently purchased boat, as Bubas is, chances are there won't be much on board in the way of spare parts or tools that tend to accumulate over the years.  So, if something goes wrong it's pretty darn tricky if not impossible to fix.  If it hasn't been sailed much recently, other sort of "standard-issue" stuff may not be on board either, like red interior lights for nighttime or jack lines for the deck. 

If I'd have had my "druthers", I wouldn't be on a delivery, but as a beggar I couldn't be a chooser in Panama, so delivering Bubas is how this gal is getting across the Pacific, to Tahiti anyway.

Pacific CROSSED!

Arrived safe and sound in Rangiroa, French Polynesia yesterday.  I have written blog posts along the way, so I'll go ahead and post them all now in reverse date order.

Google Earth Image

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Google Earth Image

Jennifer's voyage from Panama to Tahiti. The positions shown are
co-ordinates of the vessel at 24 hour intervals sent via the 406 EPIRB

I Heart the Galapagos!

After a more or less uneventful 6 day passage Bubas pulled into Isla San Cristobal of the Galapagos on the morning of April 22. In the anchorage we saw giant beautiful black birds swooping around, tuna swarming and sea lions and swimmers alike frolicking in crystaline waters. Seriously? We had originally planned to pull in, top up on fuel and food and be underway - in less than 24 hours. It wasn't long after we dropped anchor that a fellow approached in a water taxi, asking if we had an agent (thus continuing the taxing test of Jen's conversational Spanish skills). Once we found out that there wasn't an exorbitant charge (rumoured to be $150/person) for staying longer than a day, we decided to stay 2 :-)

We arranged for a tour of the island following our clearing in procedure, which was quite simple. Our tour consisted of getting taken around the island by a very friendly fellow and getting shown to the key tourist spots - the volcano, a panorama view of the island, the turtle sanctuary and the surf beach with all the iguanas. What we all found amazing was the fact that it was probably close to 100 degrees and super humid down at the boat, but within a few minutes up the volcano, it was probably 75 and quite pleasant. Calling the landscape 'lush' would be an understatement - there's banana, mandarin, guava, etc. trees everywhere. The turtle sanctuary was also quite cool, of course. Some of the turtles are well over 100 years old, and they can weigh 90-110 kilos! We arrived at the surf/iguana beach at sunset. Unfortunately, the iguanas had already gone to bed, so we didn't see any. And even worse, in our quest for them over all the volcanic rocks, Jean stumbled. Opting to protect his camera rather than brace himself for the fall, he crashed head first into a rock. He laid there dazed, bleeding profusely, while Oly and I quickly surmised that he needed stitches, pronto.

Our driver brought us to the hospital, where we were seen immediately. The quite young nurse started mopping up the blood and fished a small rock out of Jean's head. She then numbed him up and put in 5 clean stitches. She ordered an x-ray, wrote out a prescription for 3 types of pills and asked us to come back in 7 days to have the stitches out. I explained we'd be at sea in 7 days, she said 'no problemo.' I asked how much we owed for their services and they chuckled at me. 'No paga nada.' Shocked, I told them that en los Estados Unidos, nosotros pagamos para todos los servicios medicos (we pay for all medical services). She laughed and waved us off.

The little town of San Cristobal is adorable. Most of the streets are cobblestone, the water taxi service drops you off at a little dock that is well lit at night with blue and green neon lights so you can see the sea lions playing, and the buildings are all painted with brilliant colors. The currency is Ecuadorian, but it's tied to the dollar so todo es el mismo (so it's all the same). Provisioning for a passage, however, is extremely expensive...but we knew that and got most of our stuff in Panama.

I am sooooo proud of my Spanish. I've been having legitimate, sometimes long conversations with several people. My grammar is awful I'm sure, but I'm communicating, and often translating for everyone else. Yay me!!

We shove off tomorrow morning. It's 3-4 weeks to the Marquesas, weather dependent of course.

Life on Board

I'll write a much more detailed account of life on board once we're underway again, but I wanted to give you a little snapshot of how it goes.

I'm on watch 3 times over a 24 hour period.
9am-12noon
6pm-8pm
12am-2am

On watch I simply watch for traffic and make sure we're moving in the correct direction. Bubas has an electronics setup that allows us to specify our destination and then the computer takes into account the wind and current we're experiencing and puts us on the correct course to get us where we want to go. We of course have to make sure the sails are trimmed properly for the wind conditions, but even the winches are electronic, so I'm not ever breaking a sweat through manual labour or brain power. This is *not* how I would like it to be. I'd much prefer having to work a bit more, but beggars can't be choosers, and I am on board a boat crossing the Pacific, so there.

Though we of course wanted more interaction between the 4 of us, the language barrier is significant. So most of the time I'm only chatting with Oly, having only minimal conversations with Elze and Jean.

Off watch I've been reading A LOT (~750 pages so far). My book is FANTASTIC - Shantaram - awesome can't recommend enough. Thankfully I have several on my kindle once I plough through this one. I take little naps throughout the day, and usually watch about half a movie every night before I sleep around 10pm (to later get up again at midnight).

We share cooking and cleaning duties - right now we have no system - we each cook when we feel like it and clean up when we feel it's our turn.

For the longer passage, I really want to write more, and will have to sort out some form of exercise soon.

In the Galapagos!

Quick post to say - Bubas arrived safe and sound in the Galapagos! Will work on a writeup about this adorable little island to put up later. And you'd think I'd have a blog post all ready to go about the trip so far (since there's not a whole lot to do on board), but I don't! - procrastinator with ZERO excuses, really. K, more to follow.

Signing Off

<Blows Kiss>
Catch up with y'all on the other side...

Really Diggin Panama City

Since the passage on Bubas was finally 100%, I decided it was high time I left my hostel and enjoyed a little bit of Panama City. On the recommendation of a Peace Corps Volunteer staying here, I took a taxi to Casco Viejo - the old colonial part of town. I had a most enjoyable afternoon wandering through the old streets marveling over the architecture. Many of the buildings are in ruins, but they still had so much charm!

I found people to be quite friendly, and I was especially pleased to me a girl named Coco, a traveller from France who makes jewelry for a living here. It felt really good to support a fellow gypsy.

I had a fantastic $3 lunch at a little cafe, lit a candle in a cathedral for Brian and got a little teary, and took loads and loads of pictures (probably too many, but at every turn I was struck by beauty in the buildings).

I've decided that I quite like Panama City, and I think Panama as a country would be fabulous to really travel through. Two thumbs up.

Enjoy.

Panama City

(Scarce) Details on the Trip

We're still set to leave on the 16th, which I just realized is a Friday...which sucks. (Sailor lore.)

We may stop briefly in the Galapagos.

Oly has a flight back to the States booked for May 18, so we have to be in Tahiti by then!

No sailmail aboard, so I won't be able to send email updates from sea. We do have a sat phone though in case we have some sort of emergency.

Bubasian

Bubas is a Lagoon 440 catamaran. It was purchased in Fort Lauderdale and is making her way home to an area near Brisbane, Australia. The owner and his partner have been aboard up until now, I believe, but they are stepping off for the Pacific passage.

The crew taking her to Tahiti consists of Jean, a very experienced French skipper, Else (along for the ride), his partner, Oly (Oliver), a 25 year old skipper-level sailor from the UK, and me. Jean only speaks a little bit of English and Else doesn't speak any.

I believe we are going straight to Tahiti. I'm waiting on more details about any possible stops before (Marquesas maybe/hopefully) and our estimated passage time. It'll be somewhere in the ballpark of 25 days.

I will be joining the boat on the afternoon of the 15th for a morning departure on the 16th. Not a lot of get-to-know-ya time!!

I'm also waiting on word as to whether or not we'll have sailmail or some other similar application that will allow me to send brief updates at sea.

If we stop in the Marquesas, I may get off there. It's a little less crazy than Tahiti, so I've heard, and one of the highlights of French Polynesia so says a friend of mine. If I'm still in a good mood, I'll find another boat and see if I can keep hopping west.

It's been an agonizing few days, waiting for word on whether or not this passage was going to happen, and I know some of you have suffered right along with me. Your emails and IMs of "any word yet?" have been very cute. In this adventure I've undertaken, "desperate" is not a good place to make decisions from. Then again, when you're there, you don't feel like you have a lot of options. The good news is, this is a new, safe boat that the owner cares very much about it reaching its destination. The 2 professional skippers aboard will do everything in their power to see that that happens.

1.5 days left to kill here in Panama City. At least now that I'm sorted I can venture a little further away from the hostel. (Casa de Carmen is an EXCELLENT hostel, btw, should you ever find yourself here.)

Prescription Medication in Foreign Lands

Right around the time I arrived in Curacao, yet another pimple proved to be the straw that finally broke this camel's back. I have suffered with acne for as long as I can remember, going back at least 10 years. I'm 31, the teenage stuff should have stopped ages ago. I'm like one of those Proactive commercials - I've tried *everything*, from various drugstore cleansers and remedies, to more expensive "systems" like Proactive and Murad. I've gone on and off birth control pills and I've worked on changes to my diet. I've been to a number of dermatologists who have put me on various antibiotics and prescription creams. Every once in a while something makes it less horrifying, but nothing has completely alleviated the issue. In Africa, my malaria medication doubled as anti-acne, but again, not perfect, and once I got off those meds, the problems resumed with a vengeance. Out on my sailing adventure, I thought that I could shirk it off and not worry about it, and/or that the sun and the salt would take care of things naturally. But after a few weeks of new big, painful zits daily, that often bled and sometimes scar, I realized I simply couldn't take it anymore.

(I should insert a word here to answer all of you who would try to offer comforting comments of "it's hardly noticeable" and "beauty comes from within" and all that jazz. Acne is extremely painful psychologically, and unless you've suffered it or some other deformity, it's really hard for you to understand just how horrifying it can be. I never ever leave the house without makeup (when I'm not in profusely humid environments where I can't). With each new blemish I feel like there are neon lights around it, and my old scars will never fade enough to make me forget they were there. When I see myself in photos I cringe, and I often sit and wonder what my face would be like if it were clear. I know I'm pretty as-is, but gosh what would I look like if...Every single person I meet with flawless or near flawless skin is the subject of my inner jealousy (wrong wrong I KNOW, but can't help it!) And I share a silent sad bond with anyone I meet who also suffers.)

The end-of-the line for acne is a medication called Accutane or Roaccutane overseas. You've probably heard of it, along with its miraculous powers and/or horror stories. Accutane works by reducing the size of your sebaceous glands (oil producing glands), decreasing cell buildup that leads to pimples, killing acne bacteria and reducing inflammation. Once you finish treatment, it's possible that you never have acne again. (Though many patients require a second course some time later).

Sounds fantastic, right? It is until you hear about the side effects: extremely dry skin, very painful cracked lips and extreme sensitivity to the sun. These effects are guaranteed. There's a whole laundry list of others that are possible, including severe liver damage, and in the case of pregnancy, horrifying birth defects. In the US, Accutane is highly controlled. In order to go on it you must submit to monthly pregnancy and liver function tests. And for each monthly refill, you and your doctor and pharmacist have to jump through a litany of hoops and paperwork.

But I'm not IN the states now am I? Back in Curacao I decided to try my luck and getting it, figuring I'd probably at least need to see a doctor. On a little errand run, I kept my eyes open for a clinic, but what I came to first was a pharmacy. Eh, why not, I'll give it a shot. So I walked in and asked the pharmacist if they had it. It took writing out the word before she understood me, but yes, they did in fact have it available. "Have you taken before?" she asked. "Oh yes, I have." "OK. You sometimes have to see a doctor, but for you it's OK." She went to the back and produced a couple of boxes, amounting to 60 10mg pills. The bill was $153 bucks - OUCH. But the prospect of starting treatment right there and then far outweighed the cost.

I took the first pill that night and practically trembled putting it to my mouth. WHAT THE HECK was I thinking taking some medication that severely dehydrates you and increases sun sensitivity when I'm setting out to SAIL in the TROPICS!? But I was going to start out on the lowest possible dosage (per my Doctor's unofficial advise in the states), and treat it with great respect. I'd commit to drinking as much water as I possibly could, use loads of sunblock, but also work on getting a good base down before the medicine really kicked in. And, of course, keep alcohol to a minimum.

After 20 days of 10mg/day, I can safely say I think I'm improving. I knew to expect to get worse before I got better, and really I think I stayed about the same. But the pimples clear up much quicker than before, and my skin tone seems to be evening out. I have not experienced ANY side effects yet, but I literally drink 4-5 liters of water a day. 5 liters is 1.3 gallons. This doesn't count any coffee, juice or soft drinks I may have. I put on 30spf on my face every morning, and duck out of the sun when I think I've had enough (usually not more than 15 minutes if I can help it).

I will do 10mg/day for another 10 days. Then, per doctor recommendation, it'll go to 10mg 2x/day. This will last for another 3-5 months.

Obtaining more in Panama was slightly more involved, but not by much. I went to a pharmacy and found that I did in fact need a prescription. Just having the pills wasn't sufficient as it's a regulated medication. I was directed to a doctor on the next block. For $5 he wrote me a scrip for a month. I told him I should probably get 2 months worth since I'm heading out on a boat. OK, another $5 then. I walked back to the pharmacy and the ladies got upset - I didn't have the prescription in triplicate. One called the doctor and found that he didn't have carbon paper. So, get this, she sort of tucks the special in-triplicate pad of forms into the crook of her wrist, and discreetly beckons me to follow her. (All communication only in Spanish btw, with the doctor as well). We walk over to the doctor's office and he signs where he needs to. Back at the pharmacy, I'm all sorted with 1 month of pills at my new dosage - so 60 10mg pills for $106 (cheaper than curacao, but still expensive). The whole scenario took about 45 minutes.

I suspect that the increased dosage will result in more noticeable dryness, as if I go with less water for a day (when I was on/off planes, buses, taxis), my skin gets scaly. But presumably my face will get even better. And with time, it'll even be pretty, in my eyes.

Transiting the Panama Canal

As previously mentioned, I arranged to be a line handler for a German couple on a sailboat called Momo. As 4 line handlers + the captain are required to transit, they arranged to have 2 "professional" line handlers join as well. Last, an Adviser from the Canal Authority must be aboard. (For a sailboat used to only having 1 or 2 people, this many people can be very overwhelming!)

I said goodbye to the folks on Shayele and thanked them profusely for my timely rescue, and we set out to the anchorage to wait for our line handlers and adviser. The German couple consist of Uwe (pronounced 'Uve') and Bridgette. They are circumnavigating over about 3.5 years.

The line handlers came first, Beqa and Mauricio, locals from Colon. Our Spanish-English-German conversations were entertaining. As per usual I'm fine with small talk but can't get into a much deeper conversation. Uwe was at about the same level - impressive! About 3 hours later (tarde!) our advisor, Emiliano, was dropped off by a pilot boat (scary maneuver) without incident.

We were off in a jiffy, motoring full steam ahead to the entrance to the Gatun Locks, which raise boats 26m from sea level to Gatun Lake. 

Small boats usually (not always) raft up (tie together) to transit.  We, luckily, got to tie up with Shayele, and our little paqete (package) was behind a big container ship.  Being tied up meant we only had to have 2 line handlers, one at the bow and one at the stern, so Bridgette and I got to be on camera duty!

Inside the locks, the line handlers are thrown "monkey fists", weighted balls that carry lightweight lines. You tie your heavier 150ft lines to these and the guys along the canal pull them up and attach us to the walls of the locks to hold us in position while the water rises/falls. The first lock was very exciting! These gigantic doors closed behind us and slowly we started rising as water was rushing in. Up to the top, we were untied and went forward into the 2nd lock. Excitement waned a bit. By the 3rd lock, we were all sort of over it and the cameras got put away :-) We then motored off to spend the night in Gatun Lake. The moorings were full so we tied up to another boat there. Our adviser left us then, but the 2 boys stayed on for the evening. Bridgette and I got to work on dinner and we all had a few beers to celebrate a successful day.

Around 6am the following morning, a new adviser came via pilot boat and we set off to cross Gatun Lake. "The lake was formed by flooding the existing landscape with a big dam and apparently the drowned buildings and even a train sitting on its tracks are still down there in almost perfect condition. The total canal length is around 80km, most of which consists of the Gatun Lake so it was quite a long time before we crossed the lake and reached the Gaillard Cut, the final 12km stretch forming the narrowest part of the canal that leads to the final locks."

We approached the final locks and found another monohull waiting for us. We tied up with them and off we went into the 1st of another 3 locks on the Pacific side. This time we have to go down, so once the big doors are shut, the water rushes out and down we go. The line handling procedure is the same. So, #1, #2 go by without much excitement. Then #3 is the biggy - the final lock before entering the Pacific. There's a webcam and a big ole tourist building with an announcer giving the play by play to hundreds watching from a balcony. It was somewhat anti-climactic though. The doors opened up and we were through! Welcome to El Pacifico!

We untied from our buddy boat and set to work breaking out the champagne. I, sadly, had nervousness in my stomach anticipating what I'd find (or more to the point wouldn't find) on this side. Per tradition, we poured some champagne and threw some coins into the sea underneath the very pretty "Bridge of the Americas". I naturally wished that I'd quickly find a new boat to call home.

At the dropoff point for the line handlers, super long lines and extra fenders, I disembarked as well. Bridgette, Uwe and I were all sad to have to part ways. They said they wish they could take me, but just didn't have the space. They pushed some cash into my hand, which I adamantly refused, but they wouldn't hear of it. They bid me well and motored away. (Much later I looked at what they gave me and it was $80US! Oh my goodness - sooooo sweet, but sooooo unnecessary! I quickly sent a profuse thank you email.)

Once on shore I realized I was quite a ways from any normal looking marina, so I set out to walk. OH MY GAWD my stupid bag is too heavy. It's gotta be around 45 pounds or so (why did I think I needed camping gear again?!) I was in the heat of the day too, around 1400. So I trudged around 2k before I got to a road and hailed down a taxi. I found a marina, sorta, but not really the cruisers type of marina and left some cards on a window, knowing they'd be utterly useless. The feelings of dejection were quickly overwhelming me.

I HAD to get rid of my bag and get myself sorted for the night before I did anything else, so I hailed another cab and we set off for the recommended hostel, Casa de Carmen. Sadly, it was a 10 minute drive - WAY too far to realistically "commute" between to schlep myself to other boats. But the hostel turned out to be fantastic and had space in the dorm for $15/night. Perfect.

Without even so much as splashing water on my face, I checked my email. As I said in my last post, there was one waiting from the Cat that was a 'maybe' back at Shelter Bay. Was I still available for the passage to Tahiti? YES!!!! They coming through the canal today, so I will hopefully be getting confirmation later this afternoon.

I'm apprehensive. I know nothing about this boat, NOTHING - I don't even know it's name! Don't know what's on it or anything about the owner or captain. Stupid Jen stupid Jen. I need to find out as much as I can as soon as I can.  I'm fairly certain it'll be fine - I do know they've made it from Fort Lauderdale to Panama, so that's something right?  Still, need at least a cursory run down of the deal before hopping aboard.  Really unfortunate to feel so desperate.

Panama Canal Photos & Videos

Wow - what an experience! I'll be working on a writeup about it tomorrow, but the pictures are already uploaded, so why wait!?

Panama Canal

PS - The catamaran that was a 'maybe' at Shelter Bay has emailed asking me to join to Tahiti. They are in the middle of transiting the canal themselves, so I won't hear from them until late tomorrow at earliest to confirm. I REALLY hope this works out because finding a boat from shore in Panama City (my hostel is *IN* the city) is going to be impossible.

Trying to Stay Positive

Shelter Bay Marina is not the mecca that I thought it'd be. Apparently it was, about a month ago, when 400 some odd boats were passing through. I can't change the past, and I *try* to cut myself slack about decisions that turned out poorly...I mean, I chose what I thought was best with the information I had at the time. But gosh darnit, why did I waste so much time in Curacao? AGGHHHHHGGHHGHHH!

Alright, rant over.

I've had a bit of good luck here, fortunately. Running into s.v. Shayale, who I met in Curacao, was super lucky as they gave me a place to crash for a couple of nights. This tipped the scales to good luck from bad as the hotel is full through next week! (And NO other accommodation options are available.) They happened to meet a German couple on a boat called Momo who was in need of line handlers for the transit of the canal. I spoke to them a few hours ago and I'm jumping on tomorrow. In itself, this is awesome news - I GET TO TRANSIT THE PANAMA CANAL! I won't be going any further on Momo though. On the Pacific side of the canal I may be able to hook up with boats that have just transited in this last week in the hopes that maybe someone still needs a hand.

Bad luck has reared its ugly head too. Obviously, I'm late to the party here in Panama. But beyond that one of the luggage locks on my pack was cut and I had an emergency stash of $200 cash stolen. (And interestingly enough, my lucky $2 bill that I've carried with me travelling since 2001 - I guess it lost its luck status). However, staying on a boat is defraying that unforeseen cost, so I'm not tooooo upset.

There's a big cat that's just pulled in - a Lagoon 440 - that is en route to Australia. I've met the owner and the captain and they're going to get in touch later on today about a spot. Fingers, toes, legs, boobs if they're big enough, crossed on that one.

There just aren't any other options. There's a boat here headed to Texas that needs crew, but that would be the end of the line. I'm not ready to give up yet. I kinda feel like it a little bit today. If I were a crier, I think I'd be pretty teary right now. But NO DURNIT - MUST KEEP TRYING!!

Bit of good luck, Bit of bad luck, Bit of Oh F$%£.

2 flights, 1 hotel, 2 shuttles, 1 taxi, 2 buses, and 2 very fortunate hitchhikes later, and I'm in Panama. Sadly, there aren't that many boats here, and the hotel is full. Luckily I found a boat I met previously that's rescuing me. Finding a permanent crew spot, however, looks very daunting.

As the Cruising World Turns, part Trois

Ah today, Tuesday, the day that we were finally going to be able to lay our hands on the long-awaited auto-pilot part. So I jumped up and was like "ok, let's get goin, what do we have to do, go go go."
Todd didn't seem concerned and set off on a different boat project.
I stayed calm until around noon, but then let my concerns be known.
Our island agent brought the part after 3pm, which again, would have spurned me into action.
Todd, however, decided it was time for a drink and a cigarette. I went downstairs to get out of the smoke.

When the agent left Todd came in and said "you're probably going to be happier if you get to Panama. We aren't going to rush leaving." I said, "yep, you're right."

Within 15 minutes my new flight was booked. I leave tomorrow at 3pm. Unfortunately I have to overnight in Miami. I arrive in Panama on Thursday early afternoon.

The Joys of FindACrew.Net

Here's my favorite inquiry so far (spelling errors included):

-----------
Dear Jen,

My girlfriend and I are planning to start full-time cruising this summer. She is tall, gorgeous, and very bi. She has two teenaged boys (11 and 13) that will be joing us.

We are looking for an open-minded woman to assist tutot the boys and share our open lifestyle.

If you are interested, pleae frop us a line.
-----------

No comment.

New Pics Online

I added some pictures of the interior of One World.  Link is to the right: http://picasaweb.google.com/heyjenjackson

Subscription

Alright, sorry for all the confusion with the Google Groups thing, but I finally figured out how to add 'Email Subscription' to this blog.
On the right, there, you'll see a place to enter your email address. Then you just get emailed every time I update the blog.
That's nice and easy right?

As the Cruising World Turns, part deux

Woke up this morning, and even before I had a chance to pee Todd informed me that he had changed his mind again.  He thought he'd always regret it if he turned around now, but that sailing around the world was too big of a bite to chew.  So his new destination is Australia, and would I consider staying on at least until Panama. 
My gut reaction was 'No way, Jose, I don't want to put up with any more drama.  I'll find a new boat in Panama.  And if I don't by the time you guys get there, we'll talk.'  (Mind you, while I have been looking forward to getting *off* the boat and away from Downer Central, I've also been dreading re-packing my bag, 8 hours of flying/airports, the 2-8 hours it'd take to get from Panama City to Colon, and the schlepping of myself around the docks again.  P.S. staying in a hotel would be lovely, however.)  Anyway, Melissa then had a very good point....what's the purpose of this whole adventure of mine?  TO SAIL!  And if we're really getting out of here Wednesday night or Thursday morning, then I'd get to SAIL to Panama.  Should I still not be happy after the passage, I can just as easily get off there and find a new boat.  It's tough to argue with that.
So it's done - my flight is cancelled (Credit can be used within the next year, but travel MUST originate from Curacao...haha, not likely.  I feel bad for Todd that that's $560 thrown away, but then again, it was his doing.)
Oh ya, Happy Easter.

As the Cruising World Turns

I realize that my blog is now reading like a soap opera, and I have to laugh.  Matt, would you say I'm still living a "blogable life"? 
Let's see, it was yesterday (wow, feels like ages ago already) that Todd said "we have to talk."  He had made up his mind – he wasn't ready to cruise, financially and emotionally.  So he's turning the boat around and going home to the BVI to work for a few more years.  The back story here which I've learned piecemeal is that he started this voyage thinking he'd have his girlfriend, her kids, and her bank account added to the kitty.  A few weeks before I came, she left.  He thought he could carry on but as it turns out, he doesn't want to.  Now, everyone that knows the guy thinks that if he would just get sailing that he'd snap out of this state he's in.  But Todd doesn't wanna.  Sooooo, he offered to fly me anywhere I wanted to go, and put me up for a few weeks once I got there as an "I'm sorry I got you into this mess".  It was very generous.
I pretty much knew what my plan would be immediately, but I needed to spend an hour or so reeling over the news.  Truth be told, I was going to try and find another boat in Panama.  But it's infinitely easier to find a boat if you're on a boat.  So I had a chat with Ian, who is the co-master of giving pep talks.  (I say co-master because folks say I'm the master of pep talks.)  He echoed the details of my plan:  get flown to Panama and put up in a hotel; find another boat.  The experiences of the last month are not wasted – I've learned a lot about what to look/watch out for.  The right thing will come along, and if it doesn't, well, cross that bridge when I come to it. 
There was a slight chance of hitching a ride on one of a couple of boats here in Curacao that are headed to Panama.  But the boat we were closest with, Lison Life, set a policy of no crew which they wanted to stick to.  Liberty had a full house.  So why monkey around?  Get my booty to Panama!
Todd and I booked a flight for Monday morning, and he'll give me cash for the hotel and taxis in Panama. Sooo nice!
What the other crew, Melissa, is going to do I don't yet know.  She hasn't been on the boat since Todd broke the news.  She's got a friend visiting so she's off with him.  Lucky girl.
The atmosphere on One World is, as you can imagine, somber.  2.5 more days.

On Sobriety

In a couple of days, it'll be 3 full months since I've had a drink (save for the accidental mix-up by my friend Dave between his vodka tonic and my tonic and lime resulting in a gulp and the sip of white wine I had when Cindy claimed it was the best white she'd ever had).

What brought on this decision? Last fall I finally came to the conclusion that sometimes I drink too much, and some of those times I end up doing or saying really stupid things that I have to then sheepishly apologize for. Though the "I was drunk" apology is completely true, I mean, I would never ever have done or said what I did sober, it's still a really lame one, don't you think? I mean, technically I made the decision to drink that much (though by that point my powers of reasoning are obviously altered), therefore I indirectly made the decision to proceed with the words or actions. Soooo, the next logical step was to stop drinking.

Alcohol is deeply ingrained in our society, period. I knew that going into this little experiment. And over these last few months, I realized just how true that statement is. ALCOHOL IS HOPELESSLY AND COMPLETELY INGRAINED IN OUR SOCIETY!!! It seems that if any two people are getting together for any purpose except driving, alcohol is involved. If I had a buck for every time I was offered a drink, sometimes repeatedly by the same person on the same occasion, I could buy a lotta booze right now! Take drinking out of the equation, and I'll be the first to say it, ya get bored!

I went out on one date when I was back in SF for those two months. Dinner was a little painful in that we were having really yummy food and he was having a big ole fat glass of rich red wine that I could smell from a mile away (oh ya, my sense of smell has dramatically increased sans booze), but I made it through unscathed. Afterwards though, sheesh, whatdoya do? Normally, duh, you go to a bar. I assured him I didn't mind going to a bar, so we did. But after *that* we ran into the same question...what do we do? Well, normally by then everyone would be pretty tipsy, so you'd likely go back to somebody's place and hook up. Poor guy, I knew that was what he wanted to do...I think he even said it...but me, nope, I was stone cold sober and there was no way I was hooking up with a guy who was moderately interesting, but I wasn't interested in. So he took me home, and I watched another episode of Lost and went to bed.

Going out with friends was easier - no awkwardness - but I'd get bored after a couple of hours when everyone else was just getting going. Plus, there's only so many diet cokes or tonics with lime that you can drink. Goodness, how is it we can drink so much more alcohol?

Going out with NEW people is awful. I don't get nervous or anything around new people, but I've learned that booze definitely helps lubricate the gears to make talking easier. Without it you tend to sit back and let the buzzed people talk louder and interrupt each other more often. After a while, you are barely cracking a smile when everyone else is laughing hysterically. Progressive belligerence is ...I wouldn't say entertaining to watch, it's actually sort of saddening, but it is interesting to observe. It's usually right around then that I'm trying to leave wherever I'm at. No bueno.

Explaining to people that I'm not drinking for the time being isn't much fun either. The 2 most common reactions are 1, they think you must be in AA or 2, they think that you have taken a high and mighty position and are somehow judging them for their own drinking. #1 is the one I sense most often from people, though no one ever says it explicitly. It's tough to defend yourself at this point ("oh but I'm not an alcoholic"...sure...right), so I never do. #2 is also tough to answer, but I try if I see a window: "oh but it doesn't bother me a bit if you guys are drinking, no worries" - and this is true. I guess the 3rd reaction is folks think you are some sort of a goodie two shoes. I have to laugh at this. And those of you who know me can join in for a chuckle as well. But there's no telling a stranger this, particularly when they're too drunk to be interested in anything I have to say.

Not drinking has been way easier than I thought it would be. I really thought I'd be jonesin, not all the time, but whenever in a social environment, and especially out at bars. But actually, save for getting bored early, I was quite happy to be sober. I was definitely happy to drive home (and offer rides to anyone else - yay!), and my most pleasant piece of this experiment was waking up clear-eyed every single morning. I can't begin to tell you how nice that is. I wasn't hangover city before, but there were the odd times where I paid the price for the night before, like we all do. And more often would have just a dull haziness that tells you you aren't 100%.

Not drinking has also helped my savings account, as that's what I'm living on currently. And theoretically my calorie-intake benefited as well, though I can't say I lost any weight.

Most importantly though, I haven't done or said a single thing that I regret these last 3 months, and I've learned that I don't *need* alcohol.

So what now? Well, after all of my capping on drinking you'd think I'd swear it off for good. But I'll be honest, having a glass of wine or beer now and then to celebrate an occasion or over a nice dinner with friends is something I don't want to give up. I had originally said 6 months for this experiment, but 3 is going to suffice, as I don't feel I will learn any more over the next 3 that I haven't already. So come April 1, I will have a nice chilled glass of white wine. But following that, my drinking will be measured. Incidentally, I'm on some medication now that isn't safe to mix with much alcohol. So for the next few months, I'm limited to the occasional drink anyway. After that, I've decided that no occasion ever deserves more than 3 drinks, and now that I've completed my little experiment, I know I have the strength of will to adhere to this little personal policy.