Now we’re ready to leave. It’s a little like having a baby; the mother is uncomfortable enough that she forgets to be afraid to go through with the birth, she just wants the baby out. In a similar fashion, I am no longer worried about missing my family and friends, not being quite enough prepared, or feeling trepidation for the unknowable future at sea. I’m psychologically ready to leave behind life as I’ve known it and face what is ahead just to get going on this long-awaited adventure.
Lately, in the dark early evenings walking down the dock to our boat, I’ve been looking up at the sky to see the constellation Orion clear as a bell shining down on me. Growing up, I remember only searching for the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, constellations of Earth’s northern hemisphere. But now I only have eyes for Orion, the warrior hunter constellation located on the celestial equator – thus visible throughout both hemispheres. Somehow he feels like a familiar friend that, during our travels, will become much more close. I wonder which other constellations I will stare at during night watches, what friends await me in the southern hemisphere. I have a fantastic app on my mobile phone that shows the constellations from every angle. I’m looking forward to studying them on calm nights. Maybe I should download information about them now while I still have access to the Internet.
I’m also looking forward to researching about the countries and sights we will soon be exploring…learning opportunities for the boys, as well as for Eric and me. I’m looking forward to learning and practicing more Spanish. I’m looking forward to sharing my love for language with Bryce and Trent, especially French. I’m looking forward to practicing my sailing skills, building upon the skills that I learned through last racing season’s Wet Wednesdays. I’m looking forward to living the dream that we have talked about and planned for during these last 25 years. It was 25 years ago this February 10th when Eric departed Ventura for the Marquesas Islands with brothers Nick, Curtis and Uncle Bill – 6 months after that when I joined the crew in Hawaii. Somehow this last year’s ups and downs led us here to this momentous turning point – departing again 25 years later – a year after we moved on the boat.
I’m looking forward to reading great literature, to treasure hunts, to meeting new people, to hiking, to fishing, and actually sailing too. I’m looking forward to living with even less, as crazy as that sounds.
Kandu and sunrise at Ventura Yacht Club
So in a few days, after the rain passes, instead of severing the umbilical chord, we’re casting off our Ventura dock-lines…like true Vagabonds, carrying everything we could imaginably need…including 2 kitchen sinks!
A couple weeks ago a photographer named Marc Brown came over to talk about my dad’s cameras and recording equipment. He got me really exited about GoPro cameras. The difference between other video cameras and GoPro cameras is that GoPros can go in the water. They’re small and can attach to everything with a mount. After Mr. Brown left, I thought that we could use my dad’s GoPro 3+ and GoPro 2, but my dad didn’t want us to use his GoPro 3+ because he was afraid we might damage it or lose it. So my brother Bryce and I had to share the GoPro 2. I was really mad when he said that, so I decided to buy my own GoPro. My dad did research on GoPros and showed me GoPros I could buy for a price of $200 or less. There was the GoPro Hero for $130 and GoPro 3 white for $200. I wanted to get the $200 one because it’s better than the $130 one. The white is better because it makes it so you can see what the GoPro sees. At this point I’m keeping it a secret from my brother, Bryce, because he would want to get the same thing as me, or better. A couple days later my dad and I were going to go to Cosco to buy my GoPro. When my dad said he would make a deal with me. He said if I give him my $200 he would give me the GoPro 3+ black that he already had. The GoPro3+ black is better than GoPro 3 white. I wasn’t sure if I should accept the deal and, my dad said I didn’t have to take the deal. My dad offered the deal because mom wouldn’t let him buy the GoPro 4 black because it costs $500. After that we went to Costco and the only GoPro there was the GoPro 3+ black and Hero. They cost $350 and $130. Dad said the GoPro 3+ is basically the same as GoPro 4, not the black. But the GoPro 4 can take videos in the dark and faster 4k frame rates. We returned home empty handed. When I went to bed I told dad that I would take his deal. The next day we left Ventura to drive up to Northern California to see Nani and Papa, my grandparents. When we were half way there, I told my brother the deal I had made with dad. He was mad because if he bought a new GoPro, I would still have the better one.
After spending 3 great days at Nani and Papa’s house in Oakland, we went to the Lima’s ranch in Watsonville. Philip, a professional quad-copter video guy that my dad knows, was there to show us how to use our quad-copter drone, the Phantom 1. He put his GoPro on the drone. After a couple hours of flying lessons, Bryce and I started skateboarding down the hill of their driveway. I went to get my GoPro 3+Black, and that was the first time I used my GoPro.
When I got home I really wanted to go to my friend Charlie’s house at Faria Beach. I really was exited to see what kind of GoPro he had. Guess what? I had a better one than him. He had the GoPro Hero only. A couple days later, Charlie and I went into the water with our GoPros and were videotaping all the nice wave barrels at his house. After a little while Charlie went back to his house but I waited for the sunset. A couple minutes later, I was walking back to his house on the beach when the sunset happened. It was beautiful. I took a couple pictures of the sunset and went back to his house.
The next day, Bryce and I were so pumped up with our GoPros we wanted dad to install a plastic mount on our surfboards so we could take really good videos with our GoPros while surfing. One day my dad arrived with a whole bunch of additional equipment for our GoPros. I asked him if I could buy some GoPro accessories. Dad bought me a GoPro storage box so he could have his box back. I said, cool dad, thanks for the box”. The next day he was working on the computer, and he said” Trent do you want to order anything? Bryce asked, “Hey, do I get to order items too?” Dad said, ”Yes”. We got a whole bunch of equipment like Bryce got a bobber, a box Dad’s original GoPro HD (he has the first GoPro too, a standard def one.), and plastic latches. I got aluminum latches, a chest mount, and a helmet.
The worst thing ever happened. I was so excited to try out my new stuff, that when I switched my floaty-back with a regular back cover, I didn’t see that it was a back with holes. I didn’t even know they made them that way. When I took it surfing, I checked it and couldn’t get it to work. When I brought it back to the house, it was full of water. My mom washed it off with freshwater and alcohol, like my dad told her to do. He wasn’t there. He was working on the boat. My dad said I had to wait two days to let it dry. I waited. Two days are long. When I turned it on, it didn’t work. I learned on a YouTube video how to test the batteries with a meter my dad has. Only one battery was charged. The camera came on, but it said, “No SD,” which means it wasn’t seeing the SD card. My dad told me to check the SD card in our computer. It worked, so that meant the GoPro was broken. I was very sad. My dad told me to find a video that shows us how to open it up, and that he’d try to fix it. So I did, but we didn’t have screwdrivers small enough so my dad said, “Get in the car,” and we went to Fry’s. I picked out the mini screwdrivers and we went back to the boat to try and fix the GoPro that night. When my dad opened the back, he showed me the salt that the ocean water made. He said mom didn’t rinse it enough, but now we know how much we have to rinse electronics if they get dunked in saltwater. Dad had a spray called Corrosion X. It’s supposed to eat rust and make electronic stuff work again. The Army uses it. So he put some on a toothbrush and cleaned all the salty parts. It looked new again. We got to see inside the camera. Dad showed me the imager and said nothing can touch it, no dirt, dust, fingerprints, or spray. After three times of taking it apart and cleaning it, we still couldn’t get the SD card reader to work. Everything else worked, but the SD card reader. It was late, so I went to bed. Dad said he would try one last thing, to get the card reader off so he could clean it better. I prayed that he would fix it. I spent all my money on it and I couldn’t buy another one for a long time because we’re leaving the country really soon. The next morning, I asked dad if he fixed it. When he said “No,” I cried. I really loved my GoPro. Now I’ll have to share with Bryce dad’s old GoPro.
Breakfasting at the Ventura Yacht Club the weekend following New Year’s, Trent and Bryce met the Harris brothers, Ryan and Wesley, twins that sailed several years with their parents aboard their catamaran, Gone Native. Meeting young guys who did what they are about to do gave them an opportunity to hear about experiences they could look forward to. Here’s what Bryce and Trent wrote about their experience, meeting Ryan and Wesley Harris:
Ryan and Wesley Harris (photo Dina Pielaet)
Harris Brothers
This past Sunday, January 4th, we happened to meet a family who had a similar experience of what we were about to partake. In the Harris family were two nineteen year-old young men named Wesley and Ryan. My brother and I both had a conversation about their travels, thoughts, and experiences!
The most exciting for me were the surfing stories. On their trip, they started to learn how to surf. Their first day surfing was rough. In the beginning, the waves were moderate size, about 3 ft. Then later the waves picked up to about 10 ft and barreling. The father got a huge chunk of skin cut clean-off by the surfboard fine. He tried putting an antidote on (called second skin). Almost an hour later, he got back in the water and the second skin immediately came off and it started to bleed again. They were worried about attracting sharks.
The second experience that caught my attention was lobster diving. To pick-up a lobster, they were taught to push on the lobster’s back and then pick it up. Wesley and Ryan said that the first few times they tried lobster diving, it was freaky because they would touch the lobster and it would move crazily and it scared them back to the surface. But now after years of practice catching lobsters bare-handed, they love catching lobsters as big as 17” long as if it were no big deal.
Another story was their journey home. They visited schools, gave speeches and shared power-point presentations of what they did during their travels. This sounded really fun to talk in front of students about journeys and places they went to and what they were like
Overall, talking to these young men, boosted my positive energy toward my family’s trip around the world. Also, it was a small heads-up of what could happen during our travels. I thought it was really cool and an extremely interesting and beneficial conversation with the Harris Brothers!
Bryce Rigney
Talking to the Sailor Boys
Last Sunday I met Wesley and Ryan Harris, nineteen-year-old sailors who sailed with their mom and dad. They sailed around the Mediterranean Sea and across the Atlantic Ocean for a total of about five years between the ages of 9 and 14. I asked them what was the longest time they had been at sea without seeing land. They said it took 24 days to cross the Atlantic Ocean. During that crossing one morning while they were sleeping, a huge wave came. They thought it was just another wave, but no, it was a 30-foot wave. This wave crashed over the boat and woke them up. If the catamaran had flipped over they might have died.
During our conversation, Wesley and Ryan also talked about diving and catching lobster. When they were close to land they would free dive 10 feet and catch lobsters freehanded. They said all you have to do is push down on the lobster, then pick it up. They said they did it a lot because they love to eat lobster. They also mentioned that every day they would write in their journal. Now five years later, they sometimes read through their journal entries, which helps them remember everything they did during those five years. The last thing that impressed me about what they said was that when you get back to school after your trip, everybody will think you’re really cool to have sailed around the world. Of course, I haven’t experienced that yet.
We just got news that our one-year extended-stay visa for French Polynesia was approved. And a French Polynesian yacht agent, a niece of a friend, will offer her services gratis to arrange in Papeete our immigration and customs affairs. Happy Birthday to me.
We initiated the process to get a 90-day, three-island cruising permit. We don’t plan to be in the Galapagos much longer than 20 days, which, were we to stay on only one island, entry fees would cost about $1350. But Leslie feels that since we’re there, and that it’s not likely we’d get another chance, might as well try to see more of the islands and make the experience as extraordinary as we can. All in, permits and fees for all three islands will probably come in south of $2000. This will perhaps be the most expensive stop in our multi-year journey. Because of the high cost, most cruisers skip it, so Happy Birthday to me.
After some technical reading and some help from Sailmail tech support via email, I figured out how to get our HAM/SSB radio working well. We can now drive the radio remotely through an email/weather fax application. Leslie and I also attended a webinar on marine SSB radios, giving an overview of the equipment and how to take full benefit of having a radio on board. Joseph from Horizon helped me navigate the software on our laptop to drive the radio. He also showed how to use a couple other handy navigational applications, extremely helpful. The radio, Pactor modem, USB GPS, and laptop are all working well together. I was so happy about it that I couldn’t sleep. Happy Birthday to me.
Leslie received all the medical supplies from our list. Germs don’t stand a chance on our boat. Happy Birthday to me.
After a couple of weeks of price adjustments, Leslie sold our 13-year old Toyota minivan. We did a lot of living through that van. Sad and glad to see it go. Now, only the Prius remains. Happy Birthday to me.
Talking with Dr. Dave and the Maritime Institute of San Diego, I’m thinking of taking the two weeks and spending the $1000-$1200 to get my Federal captain’s license before we leave for Mexico next month. Online courses, in-person teaching support, a physical, drug test, background check, a couple of photos, an exam and an application, and I’d have it. We’ll see, but Happy Birthday to me anyway.
Dan and Lydia on Amadora invited us over for a wonderful dinner, while offering us advice on places to moor Kandu and how to get around Puerto Vallarta, a place with which they are very familiar. They even told us which busses, shuttles, and taxis to take to get to Costco and Walmart, our last stops for provisioning before sailing to the Galapagos. Happy Birthday to me.
After having lived aboard Kandu for exactly one year, we leave Ventura West Marina for the Ventura Yacht Club tomorrow. Although we’re not leaving Ventura Harbor for a few days, psychologically it’s feeling like the preparation phase is transitioning into the departure. Of course, our departure is the grandest birthday gift of all (apart from a healthy and happy family of course). Our stay at VWM has been wonderful. The office found us a slip closer to like-minded live-aboards, allowing us to stay as long as we needed. VWM is a clean and well-run facility. If you’re looking for a place to live aboard your boat in Ventura Harbor, we highly recommend you consider it. Best of all, you’ll meet the families, couples, and persons who we’ll forever carry in our hearts, people who have been emotionally and physically constructive in the preparation of our departure. Their advice and encouragement helped our family through many challenges. We leave, sad to know it will be a while, if ever, before we meet them again; a phenomenon that will play out for the next several years as we make and leave friends all around the world. Happy Birthday to them all . . . .
Yesterday, Tuesday, December 16 2014, was my last day of school for a very long time. It was really emotional for my brother, Trent and me. We both attended Cabrillo Middle School in Ventura, California. My main feeling leaving Cabrillo was about not being able to hang out with the kids I enjoy hanging out with at school and knowing that there was a good chance I might not see them ever again. The other predominant concern was about leaving behind a normal school life for five years; because I think education is one of the most important things in life if you want to thrive instead of survive. When I grow up, I hope to go to a good college like UCLA and then become a builder. Saying good-bye yesterday, it was a very hard day for both of us, for many reasons.
Before yesterday, my final day, I hadn’t realized how hard it was actually going to be to say good-bye. Telling the teachers and staff at school that the day was my last, I felt freed and relieved from all the major coursework and homework of six periods a day.
School’s Out Forever . . . Bryce and Trent get their walking papers.
Some of the teachers were hard to say good-bye to and some were a piece of cake. My woodshop teacher, Mr. Lehman, was the hardest above all the teachers to bid my farewell. Woodshop was my favorite class. I loved making projects out of wood and shaping wood into many things. Because of my woodshop experience, when I grow up I think I would like to build houses. The saddest feeling was leaving my friends and the many other great relationships that I’d made these past eighteen months at Cabrillo. As a result of our sailing trip, I am going to miss the experience of going to a school dance or participating in school spirit days, things I will now never get a chance to do. But most of all, I’ll miss creaming my adversaries in daily matches of Kendama!
There are also things that I’m happy about. For instance, I’m glad I won’t have to be so confused, forced to sit in an uncomfortable chair for six hours, excluding the time when I got to hang out with my friends for lunch. One thing I don’t like about the kids in Ventura is that they are a lot more judgmental than my classmates in Los Angeles were. They judge what you wear, act like, how you look, talk, walk, what you do for sports, and almost anything you can think of, including how you do your hair. Back in my hometown of Westchester, the kids didn’t care what you did, what you wore, or how you acted. They just cared about how you flirt with girls and how popular you are. (Just for your information, I was really popular in my LA school.)
My most favorite and least favorite day in Ventura will be the day I left school, the day that I left classrooms behind but the day that my classmates said good-bye. They made me feel appreciated, looked up to, and that I will forever be well remembered. This was a very different experience than that of my last day at El Segundo Middle School, where I left many great friends too. On that day, everyone acted mellow, like my leaving for five years was no big deal. They weren’t as openly selfless as my classmates in Ventura. For this and many other reasons, Cabrillo will always hold a warm place in my heart!!!
Bryce monitors surf conditions in front of the Ventura Yacht Club.
Yesterday, wiring up for our new SSB/HF radio, I was frustrated. I’m tired of working on Kandu. Sick of it. Mixing metaphors, it’s like sand collapsing around the tunnel I’m trying to dig, covering the light at the tunnel’s end. More money, more mess, more solving a couple potential problems en route to knocking out the current one, and more delays on our departure date. While Leslie and the boys are enjoying a little extra leisure time with the grandparents in Palm Springs, I’m all “asses and elbows” trying to get the wires in for the new radio. Nothing goes as quickly as I think because, like a pregnant lady forgetting how painful the previous delivery was, I forget how long other tasks took. I only recall the high-level overview of the tasks and the feelings of accomplishment that follow it. The forgotten nitty-gritty takes time, more than my memory seems capable of retaining. Instead of three or four days, it takes seven or eight; a very deflating feeling. I sometimes wonder if I’ve enough air left in my ‘optimist’ balloon. Unlike some sailors, I can’t just drill holes and pull the wires through the ceiling, or through two hanging lockers (closets) and several compartments to get them to their intended destination and call it a day. Noooo, . . . instead I have to complicate things and label all the wires in case I have to solve a problem in the future, so as not to forget where each wire goes. I have to make sure the cables are all dressed neatly, even though only I or the next technician or person who owns this boat will ever see it. When selecting and installing a solution, I’m compelled to consider ergonomics, about future expansion, about servicing the units. This all takes time, adding to the installation time and delaying our departure, and yet I won’t do it differently. I believe that the extra effort I’m making now will help me in the future, adding evermore to the “delayed gratification” side of the fun scale equation. I should win a prize for delayed-gratification. But even if I did, it wouldn’t make me happy or less frustrated. I want to play. I want to have untempered fun. But it’s not like I can quit. After all this, could you imagine? I can’t. Not possible. So I keep going. Keep making progress, one small step at a time. Annoyed. Looking for a better day.
And then it happens . . . .
This cold Sunday morning, while finishing up my eggs Benedict and orange juice at the Ventura Yacht Club (my favorite breakfast), a club member introduces himself, says he can’t make my talk on Friday (I offered to give a presentation, describing some of Kandu’s systems. Yacht clubs appreciate this kind of thing, listening to how someone preparing for a circumnavigation solved some of the problems associated with such an undertaking. It’s a way to give back to the sailing community that is so helpful towards its vagabond ilk), but wanted to know about our planned route. Turns out, Dave and his wife, Desiree, are physicians who’d sailed Gone Native with their two young sons around the Med for several years before sailing across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, and eventually transiting the Panama Canal before returning back to Ventura: four and half years. They had a wealth of information about cruising and getting visas, and, as practicing physicians, offered to help us set up our medical kit tomorrow evening, review our medical books, and recommend some apps for our smart phones and tablets. As he spoke, I could actually feel a weight lift from my shoulders, my upper-body tingled with the release of long-held pressure. He said that they would now be our first call (or satellite text) should we ever have a medical issue, and to know that they will pick up. I couldn’t stop smiling. As much as yesterday was a turd of a day, today was turning into a gem. While David spoke to me, Desiree spoke to Leslie and their two sons, Ryan and Wesley, now 18+, spoke to Trent and Bryce. The boys heard first-hand of the young men’s adventures, how they attended a French school, caught lobsters and all kinds of fish, and learned to surf. Trent said, after hearing them speak with such enthusiasm, he thought that this trip might actually be a lot of fun. What a great way to start the day!
Then when I got back to Kandu, I met up with Joe, who was patching up the gelcoat (a thick, paint-like material for fiberglass) on Kandu’s dodger (the windshield enclosure that surrounds the front half of the cockpit). Asking how he patches and paints gelcoat, he kindly gave me a lesson and showed me how, listing all the supplies I’d need and where to buy them. I learned so much, and he was such a great teacher that I feel confident that I will be able to patch up Kandu’s gelcoat when the time arrives, provided of course I buy and stow the supplies before we leave.
Both of these experiences happened before noon today. I am rejuvenated and happy again, so much so that I took the rest of the day off, not wanting to return to the challenge of the wiring job just yet, but choosing instead to savor the feeling of satisfaction and gratitude that filled me. Later this evening, my aunt, Annie, threw us a “Non-Voyage” party, celebrating our eventual departure–just not yet. What a difference a day made, from a ‘two’ to a ‘ten’ in the matter of a few hours. As the early 1970’s kitten poster proclaimed, when at the end of your rope, just “Hang In There, Baby!”
Iconic 1970’s inspirational poster.
Educational Alert; some background about the radio: Among the cruising community, the high-frequency (HF)/single-side band (SSB) radios are often called “HAM” radios after the land-based amateur radio community that supports their use. To use the radio in the HF radio frequency bands, an operator must pass an FCC test to get a license. To use the SSB frequencies, a ship must purchase a license that then resides with the ship–no test. Internationally, this license is required for the commonly used very high frequency (VHF) radios that sailors employ to communicate with port authorities, safety personnel, and other boats within the line of sight. It’s signals don’t travel as far as the HF and SSB frequencies can. I passed the test and also purchased a license for Kandu.
The radio that came with Kandu was a great radio in 1987, the best model available. I thought that it would be fine, until I tried hooking it up to our other modern equipment and learned that this radio would not be supported by the email provider if there was a communication failure. Today’s radios marry with computers; the two talk to each other. For email, the computer can automatically drive the radio to search the various frequencies provided by the software and find the station with the clearest and strongest signal for our given location at that time, and then automatically send and receive the ship’s email. There’s even an “Email” button on the face of the radio. For weather, various weather services broadcast a variety of free weather faxes, each providing a specific type of view, forecast, or analysis for a given region. With newer radios, crew can schedule their laptop to automatically drive the radio, capturing the preferred faxes onto the laptop. With the older radio, the operator must manually tune the radio and antenna to the scheduled frequency. One miss-pushed button or forgotten step, and there are many on the older radio, the signal is rendered inaudible or unusable and the window for capturing that day’s information is lost. The new ones automatically tune the radio and tuner, with better filters and noise reduction, thus increasing the likelihood of receiving the day’s information. And it’s easy to set up the night watch to capture it, just turn on the radio and the computer. The rest is automated. Email and weather data were not available to cruising boats when I last sailed across the Pacific 25 years ago. Today’s blue-water sailors have grown accustomed to these services, which during a long passage are the highlight of the day. I want our adventure to be as pleasant and enjoyable as possible so that the crew (especially mama) will enjoy the experience. Email and weather reports will help this cause. And so, I go through the trouble of upgrading our SSB/HF radio.
Driving home from Cabrillo Middle School in our minivan, Leslie became so overcome with emotion that I asked that I drive. It would be the last day of school for Bryce and Trent. The boys started the mid-December morning somewhat excited by the prospect of bailing on traditional school, at least for awhile. After the office handed Bryce and Trent their sign-off papers, we were off on an administrative scavenger hunt to collect the the required signatures. First stop, the library where the boys had to drop off their text books, affirm they hadn’t any outstanding library books, and capture the first of many approval signatures for the day. Five different teachers would need to assign them their grades, assessing the work they’d completed thus far in the given subject. The last signature would be that of a school councilor.
School’s Out Forever . . . Bryce and Trent get their walking papers.
Throughout the day, the experience was version of a similar story: the teacher in each class announced to the classmates the boys’ departure and wished them safe travels, some read aloud the letter I provided, explaining why the boys were leaving and the voyage we planned to do. One of Trent’s teachers even encouraged the classmates to write a personal farewell note to Trent. By the end of the day, the boys were emotional too, surprised by the number of classmates they had found to be caring friends, and the degree to which those friends expressed sorrow in light of their pending departure. The boys were deeply touched. Even Bryce, who tends to react more stoically and nonchalant about such matters, expressed how much his classmates meant to him.
With the hope of sharing our experience, several Cabrillo Middle School science teachers and a top administrator discussed with us the possibility of connecting their classrooms with us, introducing the Cabrillo students, possibly via Skype or FaceTime, to other classrooms from other countries–a service we’re excited to provide, facilitating a cultural exchange that we feel is important for young people, allowing us to share a part of Bryce and Trent’s experiences with kids their age. We hope to make something wonderful and inspiring happen. Additionally we take with us more than our fond memories as we were given by the school a small token with which to photograph around the world. Fittingly, the symbol of Cabrillo Middle School is that of a mariner.
Bryce and Trent hold the Cabrillo Middle School Honor Roll emblem we plan to photograph in exotic locations.
Ventura’s Cabrillo Middle School was good to Bryce and Trent, as was Pierpont Elementary School and Miss Bird to Trent. The boys are posting the experience of leaving Cabrillo, their last day. Trent is publishing his first, Bryce’s is soon to follow.
I had my last day of school yesterday, Tuesday, December 16, 2014. From now on I will be home schooled or boat schooled. I left on a Tuesday. On Monday, my second to last day, I didn’t feel badly, but at the end of school on my last day, I felt really bad because right when I was leaving, some kids from class gave me notes like, “I will miss you.” Not everybody gave me a note, but everybody said goodbye. Ms. Myers, my English teacher, didn’t get to say goodbye because she was not present on my last day of school. It felt both good and really sad to say goodbye to my teachers and friends. But fortunately I collected a whole bunch of my friends’ phone numbers. I think I’ll miss my music at school because we just got to the good part of learning new music. I already really miss my friends because I might not see them until we are possibly 15 or older. I don’t think I’ll miss the schoolwork. I didn’t like most of the homework.
I have gone to four different schools since starting kindergarten – two schools in Los Angeles and two schools in Ventura. The difference between school in Los Angeles and Ventura is that every one in Ventura talks about the ocean. In LA nobody really talks about surfing or even the water. In Ventura I think the schools are better because in LA, I went to a German school and I had to study extra at Kumon. Maybe it was because the teachers taught in German and I could not understand. In Ventura the lessons were taught in English. I don’t know if LA middle schools are better because I never went to middle school in LA, but I really liked middle school in Ventura. Now I’m going to be boat schooled, and we’ll be in many different cities. I’m excited to be boat schooled by my parents, but I will always remember my days at school, the many things I learned, and especially the teachers and friends I met.
Soon Leslie and the boys will be posting their observations, providing a broader perspective of our family’s journey. But for now, it’s still just me. On Christmas Eve, after hearing my views regarding our upcoming trip, a female family friend asked, “. . . and what does she think?” referring to Leslie of course. A husband puts himself at risk when he dares to speak for his wife, but I’m obviously a bit of a risk-taker. You’ll hear directly from Leslie soon. In the meantime, here’s my take on my better half’s feelings at this, the most difficult stage of the adventure.
“We gave up everything for this trip” was her expression last week. “We left our careers; vacated our house; and stored, lent, sold, or gave away our possessions. We left our family and friends, and pulled our boys from school and their friends. We pulled them from their activities: piano, choir, Rock Stars, soccer, basketball, swim team, and Boy Scouts. We moved into an inconvenient lifestyle: a cramped, low-tech, maintenance hungry environment. We’ve spent more money than expected and are taking more time than planned to get ready for this thing.” She’s concerned that at the spending rate of these past two years, we’ll be out of money in another two or three years; thus ending our trip.
Some people, when they ask us when we’re leaving, say it with a knowing tone, implying that we’re either over-complicating the process, or overly concerned about unimportant things, or too inexperienced to leave. “So, what’s the new departure date? Got one yet?” This embarrasses Leslie and the boys.
Last week, dropping Bryce and Trent off at school for what could be our last time for many years, Leslie succumbed to an overwhelming feeling of having to bear alone the responsibility of their educational futures, “You’ll be working on the boat, leaving the burden of their education to fall on me. You won’t do it, so I’ll have to, and I don’t feel capable of providing that type of education that I had without the help of the school system. It’s overwhelming.”
Leslie makes clear tasks take 40% greater effort to perform on a boat as compared to the same task on land. Doing simple daily chores such the dishes and the laundry require much greater effort. Just flushing the toilet is a workout. The living space so small (250 sq.ft.), anything left out quickly makes the whole space a mess. The family will have to be trained to immediately put their things away, contributing to the 40% boat-burden factor.
Some days, Leslie struggles to hold it together. She wants me to have my dream, but considering the high emotional, financial, and professional costs, wonders whether it’s reasonable.
“This is the hardest part of the process,” I remind her. “We’re paying the lion’s share of the cost upfront, with no appreciable benefit experienced. Once we get going, the daily costs drop and the benefits begin to flow inward. The longer we’re out, the less each year costs as the expense of today becomes amortized over a greater period. If we return in two years, then this was stupid. If we return in 10 years, then this was brilliant.” She thinks about it.
“You are never expected to handle more than you are able. You are not alone. I am here. You need to communicate your concerns, your fears, and we’ll find a solution . . . together. I didn’t know of your concern about the boys’ education until now. First of all, we’re not going to worry about the homeschooling process. We’re going to focus on teaching them how to work, how to problem solve, and how to plan and manage the process of sailing a boat around the world, working within the confines of other cultures. Secondly, we’re going to have them study every country prior to arrival, building their awareness and anticipation. Then we’ll have them report on the reality of what they discover. We’ll help them create a presentation, Power Point and all. And we’ll post it on our website for others to see. We’ll teach them to document in words and in video their experiences: cultural immersions, adventures, and nautical life; which we’ll also share with our audience.” I continue, “You’ll teach them music: to play instruments, to sing, and to understand music theory. And yes, we’ll have them work on their math, science, and English exercises—self-paced. Whatever academic/theoretical skills they’re missing when we return they’ll quickly make up in adult-education or community college. Technology is getting more intuitive, not less; so whatever technological solutions are in fashion at the time, they’ll easily pick up. So let’s not worry about homeschooling. We’re taking it off the table—for now.” She remembered that we were planning to do this all along and after hearing it again, her relief was immediately visible.
“I don’t buy the notion that we ‘gave up everything.’ Except for getting back our exact careers, we could get back just about everything else within a matter of a few weeks; back into our house with a refrigerator, dishwasher, and washing machine; place the kids back in school; sign them up for activities; and find jobs for ourselves. So what then have we really given up? That’s like saying we gave up everything to go to college and grad school, to get married, and to have kids; none of which are economically sound endeavors; but all of which enhanced our lives; just like this trip is going to do.”
I went on to say, “For nearly two years, we’ve paid the price without receiving any of the benefit. The ‘delayed-gratification’ equation is burdensome at this, the most difficult stage—the transition and preparation stage. No one we know who has sailed around the world has mocked us for our wanting to get the boat ready to our personal satisfaction. Only those who have never planned or prepared a five-year voyage have belittled our delay. I reject the criticism of those who talk without knowledge or understanding, treating this venture as if it were a six-month journey. What we’re attempting takes much planning and preparation, with the safety of our family ultimately at stake, and I have enough experience to know what’s needed to support a comfortable and safe experience, with the added ambition of documenting and sharing the adventure.” She relaxed.
Leslie is a hard working, courageous, caring woman. I am blessed beyond words to have her as my life partner, but then I knew this within weeks of meeting her 25 years ago. It’s no accident that we’re doing this together. She loves travel and adventure. She trusts my abilities and knows I’ll do everything within my being to make this a wonderful and safe experience for her and the boys. Their growth, happiness, and well being are paramount. I will not fail. These past couple years have been tough on me too. I’ve devoted all my available time to this goal. I near exhaustion about every fifteen days. But I feel this quest is part of my life’s purpose. Everything I’ve done so far, most every decision made since a teenager, has been in preparation for this trip. I cannot control the circumstances that confront us and I cannot control the attitude of others; but I can navigate toward favorable circumstances and I can shape the attitude of others by providing a positive example.
I don’t truly know what Leslie thinks, but I do know what I think . . . that I’m very lucky to have her in my life. Having two awesome sons is my preverbal ‘icing.’ We’ll leave when we think we’re ready.
Ventura photographer Pascale Landry took nearly a hundred fifty images of our family last weekend. We struck an assortment of poses around Kandu under the melting glow of the ‘golden hour,’ hoping to capture our Christmas photo this year. More than a couple dozen turned out very well, including the one we’re now using as our profile picture on Twitter, Instagram, and this website. Thank you, Pascale.
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