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Sundowners From TCP # 15 here’s my story, mate... her engine; loath to dissolve such serenity with the acrid stench and clamber of her old diesel. Sometimes you could hear a dog bark or howl mournfully at the night. Or you could watch the flickering headlights of a truck as it worked its way up the slope; slowly rounding the hair-pin switchbacks then speeding across the little strait-a-ways. We would fly past the unprotected, swell prone anchorages of “Statia” and Saba; then cut across the channel to the north-west, directly for St. Thomas. There, we would seek employment and begin to replenish our seriously depleted re-fit and cruising kitty. The most difficult part Inevitably, the time would come and I would shatter the night and send the magic flying like a wraith before dawn. The oil pressure alarm would scream. I would press the big rubber Start button. And our old Perkins would cough and catch, and roar to life. The spell was broken. Of course, after our final summer of boat work in Trinidad we did not make the passage back to St. Thomas. And this was good. It seems that no matter how enjoyable or exciting an By Capt'n Oddworm SY, Mariposa An old sailor once told me that the most difficult part of a global circumnavigation is getting the boat ready. Now, two years later and half a world away, I would have to agree. We endured three summers in Trinidad and spent a veritable treasure chest of money getting Mariposa in shape for this trip. And she wasn't in bad condition to begin with. I have only a blurry recollection of those endless months of preparation and planning, toiling, sweating, worrying. Like leafing through an old scrap-book, I recall a person here, an event there, but time has dissolved the glue which held it all together. The simple facts of daily life, so necessary yet so mundane, have faded like an old shirt hung too long in the tropical sun. Now, reflecting back I remember only the vital essentials; the heart and soul. Carried on the ebbing tide of nostalgia I rediscover my washed-out emotions; and then they return as vivid and poignant and urgent as they felt back then. I was looking over an old notebook the other day when I came across this: th Today is Sunday, the 15 of July, and we are still “on the hard” in Trinidad. I decided to take the day off from my seemingly endless project and so have some time to write. This is my first day off since we hauled out four and one half weeks ago. Since then, I have been going at a frantic pace. The alarm goes off at 0530 and I don't stop until 1800 or so. I labor in the tropical heat all day - measure, plan, and list all evening - and fall into bed only to wonder what details I've overlooked. I seemed to be levitating about an inch off the ground so I grabbed hold of some scaffolding and wondered if this is what's meant by a “Natural High”. If so, I figured I'd better stick to the synthetic variety. Since I generally prefer lying down to falling down, I decided to crawl off to bed. I hit the pillow at noon and slept until 0800 this morning. I'm O.K. now, and I expect I'll have everything back on track again by tomorrow or the day after. I don't recall what happened next because, as I said earlier, this was only a “memory scrap”. Of course I kept plugging away at my list of projects until the end of Cyclone Season. When the drier, more comfortable months of autumn came at last, we sailed Mariposa north along the “island chain” to shake the Money Tree in St. Thomas. We would motor out of the Gulf of Paria, with the sheer, black volcanic walls of the Bocas reaching up to squeeze the sky into a thin band; a ribbon of soft blue crepe. The wide channel before us appeared narrow; a tight, dark strip of boiling, raging water, furiously pinched between the towering megaliths. In the dusty twilight of dawn, with mainsail luffing madly and engine belching smoke and noise at the infant day, I would stand on the cockpit bench, bracing against the dodger , and evaluate our position in the turbulent slot; my breath coming shallow with the concentration. Breaking free into the clear Caribbean Sea, with the Trades blowing fresh and clean across her starboard beam, Mariposa would gasp, like a free diver returning to the surface after over staying his breath. Then we would unfurl her jib and she would come to herself. The magic was still there. She had not forgotten. In those months of steam and sweat and dirt; she had not forgotten. In the concentrated singularity of my toils, overwhelmed by the complexity of the project; drowned in a cesspool of self-doubt and frustration, I had forgotten. But she had not! Sometimes we would motor in easy to drop our hook amongst the brightly painted fishing pirogues, and other times we would continue on, seeking the night breezes coming around the northern side of the peak. They would first be felt coming directly at you, lightly, over the starboard bow; but with a bit of offing they would free and fill, and you could run out the jib and kill the engine, and enjoy an easy night reaching into the Grenadines. In this manner we would work our way through the islands. Beating or reaching across wild, steep seas in powerful Trade Winds, then motoring in close behind the dark and verdant peaks; sometimes resting the night in a glass smooth bay and other times sailing through till dawn. Rounding our course westward, with Guadalupe fading in our wake, we would leave the rich, wet islands behind to pass beneath the jagged, smoldering cone of Montserrat. Now, running off before heavy Trades, large, steep seas would race up from behind to catch Mariposa and send her surfing down their faces. She would lift up high in the stern and be carried forward, bow down, on the foaming crest. Then she would break free, leveling now, and accelerate down the face of the swell to bite deep into the trough. There she would hesitate, as if to catch her breath, only to be overtaken by the following seas and lifted high again. Standing at the wheel I could feel the deck roll beneath my feet and steer a steady course; and in this manner she would run very fast. experience is, once I have done it to excess, the thrill diminishes and the activity becomes mundane; simply routine. Unfortunately, this had become the case with our Eastern Caribbean adventuring. We had made the run, up and down the island chain, so many times that we had begun calling it “the I-95 shuffle” in satirical reminiscence of our years as commuters on the infamous highway. When daybreak caught us sneaking through the Bocas on our final departure from Trinidad, it was truly a New Day dawning and I wondered if Mariposa felt confused when I laid her on a westward heading. The seemingly endless days labouring in the heat and humidity became as formless as smoke and vanished from my mind in the cool morning breeze. We had done it! The wide Pacific Ocean, just beyond the great canal, had been patient these past three years. We would keep her waiting no longer. Sitting here in Australia now, with half a globe behind me and still another half laying ahead, I believe that old sailor was right. Getting the boat ready is the most difficult part. Day in; day out; around the clock; week after week without pause I go. I sucked in the sweet sea air like that nearly lost diver. And I came to myself. I was alive Yesterday, I ran into a snag and again. The sun came up fast and hot, as it couldn't come up with a solution. I does in those latitudes, and the sea shot back found myself standing there blankly blinding, broken mirror sparks. Mariposa staring into space. Exhaustion had won danced across the rolling swell with her bright out at last. Strange things pop into my canvas billowing in the morning breeze; head when I reach this condition. I reaching northward toward Grenada. remembered the Three Stooges Gaining more offing, the wind would free and episode where Curly complains, “I try to I would let her fall off a bit; content to sacrifice think, but nothing happens”. heading for speed. Often, if she were making a good run of it, we would carry on through the Sure enough, that was the essence of my problem. My brain had given up and shut down on me. The boat yard shimmered around me in a dazzling glair that bleached colors like a faded photograph. Light headed and floating, I began to lose focus and a haunting little panic crept up behind me. I could feel it breathing in my ear. Where was I? What was I doing? night, passing close in the lee of Grenada, where the fragrance of the jungle would reach out to envelope us in thick perfume. The volcanic peak of the island, black and brooding in the night, rose up sharply from the plane of the sea to block the stars; seemingly more of a shadow than an actual thing of substance. The air was warmer and thicker here, and Mariposa would inevitably lose her headway. But I would hesitate before starting Dan, Sandra & SY Mariposa in Nara Inlet, Whitsunday Island, 2005
What’s up doc? and lap your oar in as orderly fashion as you eventually be able to pick up the rope probably trailing can manage. out behind you in the water or somewhere equally If by now you are still not making headway, inaccessible. check to see that the oars are dipping in the Once again, you may wish to practice this manoeuvre water. on land. Stand on a swing sideways and grab for a rope What you do next is pull with all the muscles on the ground while holding the swing frame metres that have not seen active duty most of their away. lives and lean backwards and forward. When all this operation is completed, remember that This may not help the stability of the dinghy you have left your marina keys and money aboard the but is generally seen as being beneficial to larger vessel. moving the oars against thousands of tonnes of Repeat the procedure in reverse swearing profusely. water moving at speed, generally in the By the time you've done it all again, you can shower, direction you do not wish to go. shop, or drop. Now, because the rowboat has no keel, it must be steered with your body and the oars. If the dinghy is not where Practise on land can be gained by sitting on a you left it, you have: skateboard and pushing yourself up a steep incline backwards with a couple of sticks. 1. Forgotten to tie it to the wharf. If the bow of your dinghy is swung by the 2. Not left it enough rope and it has hung itself, current, do not attempt to row with one oar to so look down and it will be in midair. From TCP # 13 correct it, as this usually puts you in an uncontrolled spin. 3. Left it too much rope and it has done the Maypole around the pilings. By Vicki J., SY, Shomi The thing that you tend to notice right off when moving aboard a boat for the very first time is that you cannot walk home unless you are JC himself. You must put both oars into the water but row harder on one side to compensate for the movement of the surface. After you have shown off your loop do loops, dropped an oar overboard and splashed yourself into a dripping mess, come up alongside your chosen landing point. 4. You've had too much to drink and you're at the wrong dock. Neither can you pop over to a neighbour to borrow a cup of sugar (although it was matches I was running out for). To go anywhere becomes a mission requiring the strength of Popeye on spinach, the balance of a ballet dancer, and the skills of a tactician. First though you must learn to row. Easy when you say it fast but when presented with a rudderless craft without a keel, two very long handled cricket bats on a very slippery surface with a tidal rip like a running machine left on overdrive, the actual event takes on new meaning. Now what you first must do when learning to row is never take the small craft for granted. It does not appreciate such wanton neglect and has a very strong mind of its own about how one should enter its confines. Always step in the centre of the dinghy, never to one side because dinghies have an unnerving habit of ejecting into the water with lightning speed backwards any occupant not taking it seriously. Next, put the long pole-like constructions, commonly called oars, inside the rowlocks which are like Watch it pass at several feet. Take the shipped oars and do another loop de loop and generate enough force to reach the dock where you will most likely hit it and bounce back to where you began. On the third attempt don't do anything you have done previously, just make a diving tackle and throw your whole weight on your elusive landing point making sure to hold your dinghy with your toes. Your lower half may be inclined to jack knife with the moving dinghy, but by holding on for dear life, you may TCP NOTE: This is Vicki's first contribution to TCP. Shomi, her yacht, is an unusual combination of an Old English smack hull and a Chinese lug rig (junk) that Vicki built herself. TCP has been proud to have Vicki onboard for many years. Thank you Vicki! horseshoes without the luck. If by moving the poles vigorously you cannot achieve either speed or direction check to see if you are untied from the larger vessel. Vicki J. & her yacht, “Shomi” What you must now do if still tied up is haul yourself aboard the larger vessel and untie the painter (fancy name for rope). If by now you are watching your dinghy bobbing happily down the river at three knots, you have let go the rope too soon. You must first get back into the smaller craft while holding the larger object. It's sort of like practising the twist on a surfboard. Now as soon as you are able, sit down. It really does help if you wish to remain in the dinghy or need to row. Now pick up the oars without dislodging the rowlocks and aim your bow (the pointy end if you have one) 45° away from your planned destination, preferably upstream Wok & Woody Say: “Considering an inflatable? Talk to the people that repair them. BUY AUSTRALIAN!” LIFE RAFTS, LIFE JACKETS & INFLATABLES Service * Sales *Repairs* Safety Equipment DELIVERY SERVICE TO BOWEN & LAGUNA QUAYS Local agents for: AQUAPRO, BAREFOOT, ACHILLES, & RFD Authorised Life Raft & EPIRB Service Centre CASA APPROVED Boathaven Industrial Estate: Lot 3 Loop Rd., (Off Sh ute Harbour Rd., Behind Jubilee Tavern) PAINTS! PRIMERS! ANTIFOULS! WATTYL, & POR 15 Sealers, pre-primes, primers, undercoats, top coats & antifouls!!! From rusted steel to red gum, no matter what you want to paint, QUALITY PRODUCTS AT THE LOWEST PRICES! CALL US! WHITSUNDAY OCEAN SERVICES Warwick & Janelle Eastwood (“Wok & Woody”) PH: 4948 1366 Fax: (07) 4948 1377 email: wokwood@whitsunday.net.au
Page 1 and 2: Sept. - Oct. 2011 E-TCP E-TCP Racin
Page 3 and 4: www.fusioncats.com jim@fusioncats.c
Page 5 and 6: RACING ON RUBY On one of the days a
Page 7 and 8: TCP is printed on very modern press
Page 9 and 10: PLAIN SAILING WELCOME TO yOur ONE-S
Page 11 and 12: “The guys did an awesome job to b
Page 13 and 14: Finish Line - Official Boarding Par
Page 15 and 16: GOOD NEWS FROM TCP ADVERTISERS What
Page 17 and 18: NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST LOVE ME
Page 19 and 20: www.greatcircleliferafts.com.au Gre
Page 21 and 22: www.stitchitawl.com For additional
Page 23 and 24: In late 2008 while I was living at
Page 25 and 26: www.martzcruising.talkspot.com www.
Page 27 and 28: INSURANCE WOES IN THE WHITSUNDAY'S
Page 29 and 30: Hi Dave, maritime case law be subor
Page 31 and 32: SEAGULL MANIA photo: Chris Ayres's
Page 33 and 34: Andy & Jenny photo Australia is for
Page 35 and 36: Lynelle & Lloyd, onboard Chappie sh
Page 37 and 38: Yacht Haven Anchorage Ratanachai Wo
Page 39 and 40: NOW IS THE TIME 0401 235 534 Adam W
Page 41: Seasick?? Who?? Left: Anaconda made
Page 45 and 46: Sweetlip Reef was huge; we entered
Page 47 and 48: (07) 4721 1554 Mon -Fri 8.30am to5.
Page 49 and 50: The sheets were put aside while we
Page 51 and 52: 37' Wilf O'Kell Gaff Cutter Reduced
Page 53 and 54: The BareBones Project-The Editor Bu
Page 55 and 56: AUCTION NOTICE Sailing & Motor Yach
Page 57 and 58: Sail on Vicky It is with deep sadne

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