Hilton Head Island: furnished; The Day of the Seafarer: a male sports bra?; racing the peloton

I am presently sitting in the armchair on the right in my favorite spot in this condo, although now there are several new desirable alternatives.  A definitely more comfortable upgrade.  

The furniture taken from Evanston two weeks ago was delivered as scheduled yesterday.

Until now most of the furniture in the condo was intended to be outside and now it mostly is, cleverly arranged by Carol.

The chairs that had been here in front of the bedroom window are now on the screened porch, along with the circular wood table that was in the dining area, although it is open only to a half circle and against the outside screen wall.

Part of the plastic wicker sofa is on the open deck and two parts are in what might have been intended as a breakfast area between the kitchen and the porch and will now probably become the TV watching area.

The cherry dining table from Evanston is in the dining area.  The L shaped sofa, the coffee table, my desk and the carpet from Evanston are in the living area.  

We have still to hang photographs and art works on the walls, but now a mere three and a half years after we bought this place, it is finally furnished.

Google notified me that I have been quoted on a site of ‘Insipirational Quotes About Sailing’ for the Day of the Seafarer.

I did not even know that seafarers have a day, though I have had mine.  Many.  Countless.

You can guess what they quoted, but they did add, “Live passionately even if it kills you because something is going to kill you anyway.”

https://www.ibtimes.com/international-day-seafarer-inspirational-quotes-about-sailing-3235592

I have of course been watching the Euro 2021 soccer tournament which some consider superior to the World Cup.  Currently six of the top seven ranked nations in the world are European.  If you were watching yesterday, late in the match between Sweden and the Ukraine a Ukraine player scored what would prove to be the winning goal and as soccer players often do pulled off his shirt to reveal his muscular chest and to my surprise what appeared to be a sports bra.  What?

Carol googled and found the non-salacious explanation.

I am relieved.

From Sam, an American completing his Ph.D. in Australia, comes a link about an interesting challenge, a cyclist who is racing to stay ahead of the peloton in the Tour de France, carrying a tent and his supplies with him and camping out at night rather than being treated and pampered by team support members.

https://cyclingtips.com/2021/06/interview-lachlan-morton-on-the-gear-and-motivation-behind-his-alt-tour/

And here is a link to his daily position page:

https://www.rapha.cc/us/en_US/stories/the-alt-tour

He is presently ahead and I hope he stays there.

I replied to Sam that I used to watch the Tour de France but stopped after the drug scandals.  I was watching the day Floyd Landis broke away from the pack on what seemed a daring and successful individual effort, only to have it ultimately shown that he was on drugs.  Then there was Lance Armstrong and many others.  It seemed to me that everyone at the top was taking drugs because that was the only way to win.

Sam, who is a scientist as well as a cyclist, tells me he thinks the sport is now clean, so I am going again to watch.

Also in our correspondence and my reading about the current COVID caused hard lock down in Sydney and several other Australian cities I learned that only 4% of Australians are fully vaccinated.  I had assumed that the numbers would be similar to the those in the US and UK where almost half of the adult population is vaccinated.  The problem seems to be that only the AstraZeneca vaccine is produced in Australia.  While there have been relatively few COVID cases in Australia, I’d rather be vaccinated.  It would be deplorable to die of a preventable disease, though many will.

Hilton Head Island: by the window; a disturbance; starry night; RETURN TO THE SEA

 I am sitting by my favorite spot in front of the 6’ square bedroom window looking at Skull Creek and the marina.  A quiet overcast morning with the likelihood of a tropical disturbance passing this afternoon.  My morning check of the National Hurricane Center site revealed a low developing just offshore and heading this way.

It will not be serious, mostly a few hours of heavy rain if it develops at all.  I don’t think storms should be named and particularly not those below Force 12.  It only confuses people.

I biked down earlier to check GANNET and disturbed a great blue heron, a great egret, and a black crowned night heron.  Fortunately none of them were on GANNET who was clean and secure.  I had only to wipe a few drops of water from the bilge and find great pleasure now in being able to look up and see the top half of her mast from where I sit.

Carol observed a few days ago that the Earth Wind Map looked like Van Gogh’s STARRY NIGHT.  Even more so this morning when viewed from a perspective above Antarctica.

Of particular interest is the tight low just off the mouth of the River Plate in South America.  

David and Michael have recently written, one from Florida, one from Beirut, that they are reading  or about to read RETURN TO THE SEA which has inspired me to reread it myself. I have not done so for a long time, perhaps not since it was published in 2004.  Though I have always hated the jacket photo—and still do—it is a better book than I remembered.  The writing is quite good.  It is, of course, written by a sailing legend.  I know this because it says so on the dust cover and dust covers never lie.

The photo at the top is the original of one in the book.  To reduce costs the book photos are in black and white.  It was taken of a charming woman I know at the west end of Faial Island in the Azores in 2001.

Here are two excerpts from the book, the first set in Montevideo, Uruguay, to which Jill and I had gone to get visas for Brazil.

In late afternoon we walked along the promenade beside the harbor.  We passed two couples sitting on benches partially sheltered by the sea wall.  Only a few feet apart, they were oblivious to one another.  The first couple were young lovers. The second, dressed in black, were a middle-aged man and an old woman.  The woman, whom we assumed to be the man’s mother, was crying.  They seemed to have just come from a funeral.  The couples were the same:  a man with his arms around a woman, her face buried against his chest:  the embraces of love and death identical.

And later in Lisbon I observed:

In sailing the world I have been most impressed by three achievements:  the single generation in which tiny Portugal exploded over the globe and justifiably claimed “to be first in all oceans”; the earlier expansion of Islam in a few centuries from the Arabian Peninsula to islands just off Australia in one direction and the west coast of Africa in the other; and the British Empire.  All were creations of people with relatively small populations who took incredible risks because they believed in themselves and their own myths.  It did not matter that the myths were not real, only that they were believed in.  As a child I made up my own myth about myself and then I lived it.  Myths may be all we have.

I can hardly wait to read more.

 

Lake Forest: settled; startled; unusual; meeting your maker; brushing your teeth

We have settled in.  Only a few boxes remain partially unpacked in the spare bedroom.  In one of them are the weights I use for one of my workouts.  Carol will eventually uncover them.  

I like this place more than I expected.  it is light and sunny and quiet and once again we are living in the tree tops.  That Carol’s alarm now goes off at 6:30 when I am always already up rather than 5 am is extremely pleasing.  However, we fly to Hilton Head on Sunday to meet the movers who are due to deliver our furniture on Tuesday and even though it is too hot there, I am looking forward to being on the coast again.

Imagine you are innocently driving along the interstate and look in your rear view mirror and find the above rapidly gaining on you.  It is of course only Kent and Audrey moving SCOUT, the man eating canoe, and WILLOW, part of the Armada, from Florida to Virginia.  When I consider the complexity of their move compared to ours, I am embarrassed ever to have had a moment of distress.  I am told that the Armada has now completed the relocation from Gulf Station to Mid-Atlantic Station and trust that the fleet will enjoy its new waters.

http://smallboatrestoration.blogspot.com/2021/06/armada-relocation.html

On the other coast, Doryman is creating his own NW fleet, having moved onto land after living on board for a while.  

http://dory-man.blogspot.com/2021/06/change.html

Doryman, Kent and Audrey, as well as many of the rest of you, possess skills that I do not.  Two boats were too much for me.  I am a one boat man.

The above screenshot was taken a few hours ago of the Earth Wind Map which as regular readers know I check each morning.  

https://earth.nullschool.net/

The circular storm is category 1 typhoon Champi east of the Philippines, but what caught my attention is the area several hundred miles south of it where the wind is blowing out in all directions from the center.

Carol thinks the image looks like a painting by Van Gogh.

I just finished reading ALONE by Michael Korda of the famous film making family, though he himself became the editor in chief at Simon and Schuster.  The book is a very good retelling of Dunkirk and the events leading up to it.  The ‘alone’ of the title is the United Kingdom standing alone against Germany after the fall of France.  Among the good lines is a quote from Winston Churchill which I think I have posted here before.  “I am prepared to meet my maker.  Whether my maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter.”

Comments on journal posts first come to me.  A few days ago I received this:

cảm ơn bài viết của bạn, mời các bạn xem các thông tin bài viết >> Sau sinh bạn có nên đánh răng ? 

Somehow I was skeptical and pasted it into Google Translate which identified it as Vietnamese as I expected.

The translation:  Thank you for your article, please see the article information >> Should you brush your teeth after giving birth?

Not planning to give birth I have not read the article.

Lake Forest: moved

 

I was seriously depressed Friday evening.  I don’t know why clutter and too many possessions depresses me, but they do, and Friday evening this place was a mess.  In addition to the furniture that had been carried up, more than thirty big, some of them very big, cardboard boxes filled the spare bedroom and overflowed the kitchen area.  This move was more difficult than the one of living and dining room furniture from Evanston to Hilton Head because the buildings in both Evanston and Hilton Head have elevators and because a lot more was moved from Evanston to Lake Forest where we have the second floor of a two story building that is reached only by narrow, steep, twisting stairs.

I rode the train up Friday morning to accept delivery of a reclining chair Carol had ordered and the self-install internet kit from Comcast.  Carol remained at Evanston awaiting the movers who said they would arrive between 9 and 11.  They arrived at 11 and packed until 3:30.  Carol telephoned me with concern.  There were three of them.  A man in his 50s, a young woman and a young man.  All spoke Spanish.  Only the older man said much in English.  None appeared to be very strong and we knew how difficult the stairs are and the weight of some of the furniture that would have to be carried up.  In this instance appearances were deceiving.  While the older man often paused gasping between loads, they did it, and all had been transferred without damage to goods or building from truck to the unit by 6:30.  I could not have done it, not just now when I am old.  They were beasts of burden.  I have been a beast of burden to boats, but I doubt I could ever on my best day have done the labor they did that afternoon.  We thanked them sincerely and tipped them I hope more than they expected.

However after they left, there was all this stuff.  Looming.

We walked to a nearby Fresh Market where we bought cooked ribs, mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts and a bottle of wine with a screw top, which we took back to the war zone for dinner.  

The boxes were marked with an indication of contents.  We located a banket, sheets and pillows and fell into restless sleep.

By Saturday evening I was no longer depressed.  Enough order had been imposed so that the place was livable.  This was mostly Carol’s work, but then it had to be because most of the stuff is hers.  I unpacked six boxes of books and issues of magazines which contain articles I have written.  I was willing to dispose of all of this, having gone over the bookshelves before we drove to Hilton Head and taking along ten books I wanted to keep, including copies of my own, but it did not happen.

Sunday morning Carol drove us back to Evanston where we spent three and a half hours cleaning.  The place looked odd empty.  When we departed we left our keys behind.  We signed fifteen or twenty legal documents last week in an attorney’s office.  The closing is tomorrow.

This is a nice place.  There are front and rear stairs.  Both difficult requiring me with my deficient depth perception to cling to the hand rails for dear life. The building faces east.  The interior is divided in half length wise with the half facing south an open space of kitchen area, dining, living.  There are lots of windows at the east end and on the south side providing lots of sunlight.  The north half holds two bedrooms and two bathrooms.  

It is conveniently located near the town center.  Markets, shops, the post office and the train station are within a few blocks, and this morning after Carol drove to the office she called to report that she made it door to door in twelve minutes.  From Evanston it took about an hour and a half each way.  This is life changing and the point of the move.

There is still some clutter and unpacked boxes, all now confined to the spare bedroom out of immediate sight.  The photo was taken from my seat on the convertible sofa that used to be in the guest bedroom in Evanston.  Carol put the bamboo plant on the mantel just to get it out of the way, but it looks good there and will stay.  If it survives for two more years—and it is admirably tenacious—we will take it with us on the final drive to Hilton Head.  

I take solace in that Carol and I are agreed that when she retires only what fits in her SUV goes to Hilton Head.  All the rest of this debris is sold, given away or dumped and I will be free.  Free, I say.  Free.

Evanston: stuff; sea wolves; WINDWARD PASSZGE; ridiculous

Yesterday three short, stocky and very strong men in two hours dismantled, packed and removed our living and dining room furniture, hopefully to be seen again in Hilton Head on the 29th.  Tomorrow other men arrive to remove the rest of our stuff to be moved twenty miles north to Lake Forest.  

We have been throwing out stuff for weeks, but we still have too much.  Far too much to my mind, but then I can live on a Moore 24.  Twice in my life I have lost all my possessions.  I know that they are not important and I have no need or desire to hold on to relics of my past.  

As some of you know I have a rule for boats that if I can go a year without using something, I can go on not using it and it is gone.  There are a few exceptions on GANNET:  my dry suit; the Jordan drogue; the emergency rudder.  But I think the rule ought to apply to land dwellings as well.  It might even be a good idea to throw out everything every ten years except perhaps major pieces of furniture, taking into the future only what you can fit into a knapsack and start again.  It is liberating.

Among the hundreds of magazines available to me through Apple News Plus is CANADIAN GEOGRAPHIC, the current issue of which has a link to an excellent eight minute film about wolves that live and thrive on an isolated coast in British Columbia.  I enjoyed it very much and hope you will too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cev7hGXRvME

From Sailing Anarchy comes a link to a video about the building of WINDWARD PASSAGE, one of the truly revolutionary boats, a 73’ maxi of her time that was really a big dinghy.  I saw her twice.  When I limped back to San Diego with failed rigging after my second attempt at Cape Horn I tied up to dock at what was then Kettenburg Boat Yard for repairs and was next to WINDWARD PASSAGE.  I recall being impressed when her professional crew of two maneuvered her easily from her slip.  The next time was about a dozen years later when she was sitting on the hard in Sydney, Australia, after having been sold to a suddenly rich man who became as suddenly poor again.  I don’t know what happened to her after that.

Alan Gurney, her designer, is interesting because after a brief and successful career as a yacht designer he quit and returned to his native UK where he wrote books about the Antarctic.  I think he might have lived for a while on Islay, the home of Laphroaig.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGaf8Hpftic&t=4s

I came across the above this morning on the BBC news site.  Not all ‘dreams’ are worth pursuing; not all edges of human experience equal.

I expect this will be the last entry ever from Evanston.  We have been here fifteen years, during which I have sailed around the world twice.  This is a nice condo.  Evanston a decent place.  I move on without regret.

Evanston: sherry oak Laphroaig; I told you so; moving week

As is my duty I bought a bottle of Sherry Oak Finish 10 year Laphroaig and have sipped and am reporting.

First let me quote from the cylinder in which the bottle came:  This unique expression from Laphroaig combines the unforgettable flavor of our 10 year old whisky with the sweet, aromatic flavours from the Oloroso sherry casks.  This marriage of casks creates a rich, full bodied flavour  with notes of Manuka honey, bacon and maple syrup alongside the classic smoke, seaweed and hint of salt that Laphroaig is known and loved for.

Although that makes the whisky sound like a pancake, it is probably even true.  I do not smell or taste the bacon and as you easily can conclude, I prefer the classic.  I would even if the sherry oak and classic cost the same, which they decidedly do not.  Now that the Trump tariffs have been suspended, original 10 year costs $55 a bottle at our usual liquor store.  The Sherry Oak costs $95 a bottle.  It is a darker amber in color, smoother and sweeter than the original.  If you like whisky I expect you will like the Sherry Oak.  I will finish the bottle with pleasure.  I will not buy another.

For decades I have said that the Southern is the better hemisphere because there is less land, more ocean and fewer of us there.  Now superfluous confirmation comes from something called The Global Livability Index.

Six of the ten are in the Southern Hemisphere, four in Australia, two in New Zealand.  While ratings have been influenced by the strong response the governments of those countries have made to the pandemic, I have been to all the Australian and New Zealand cities except Adelaide and would gladly live in any, although I prefer Sydney to Melbourne and property prices in some have become California expensive.

This is moving week.  Interstate movers come on Wednesday to take some furniture and belongings to Hilton Head.  Local movers on Friday will take other stuff twenty miles north to Lake Forest.  We have thrown out a lot, but we still have too much stuff.

Evanston: a sunset and some quotes

The beautiful sunset comes from the deck of Jay’s Olson 34, SHOE STRING, during last Wednesday night’s race.  Chicago’s skyline from the water is spectacular.  Enough to make one want to have a boat on Lake Michigan.  Oh, that’s right, I’ve done that.  I thank him.

Amidst increasing disruption I am reading MACHINES LIKE ME a novel by Ian McEvan, perhaps best known as the author of ATONEMENT.  It is about a 30ish Englishman who buys one of the first synthetic men, a lifelike robot, and I suspect will turn into a love triangle with the man’s girl friend.  I am not far into it, but have already come across two good lines.

Factory settings—a contemporary synonym for fate.

An old friend—a journalist—once said that paradise on earth was to work all day alone in anticipation of an evening in interesting company.

Of quotes, Geoff in Ireland, wrote about my observations on listening to HUCKLEBERRY FINN that perhaps I had chosen the wrong classic.  He suggests James Joyce’s ULYSSES.  I am going to take him up on that or at least give it a try.  I have never finished the novel, though I have started it twice long ago and recall that it has two great quotes in the first hundred pages.

God is a shout in the street.

History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

Geoff also mentions that Joyce makes reference to forty-six different Dublin pubs, all of which have been closed for the past twelve months.  When they reopen he intends an epic crawl with his adult children to all forty-six in a weekend.  By the end crawl indeed it may be.  I hope for a report.

Also of quotes, Google notifies me that a site of quotes for Oceans Day includes A sailor is an artist whose medium is the wind.  I did not even know that oceans have their own day.

Evanston: in disarray and out of focus

From Carlos comes a link to a video about an ingenious sail for cargo vessels.  This could resurrect the profession of sailing master for merchant ships and the irony of having oil tankers propelled by wind.

After about seven minutes it becomes Michelin self-promotion, but the first part is good.

I thank Carlos.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BiaQV7kd8iM

I came across the above photo at CNN.  The elephants are part of a herd of fifteen that ‘escaped’ from a nature reserve in South China last year and have now wandered more than three hundred miles.  Heavy rain made the going difficult this day and so they lay down to sleep.

As you may know each afternoon when I have Internet access I go the the All of Bach site

https://www.bachvereniging.nl/en/allofbach

And then to their YouTube channel.

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=all+of+bach

If nothing is new, I listen to some of my own recordings.

Yesterday I found this amusing three minute video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRqoP-NdkDg

Things must come apart before they can be put back together and this condo is coming apart.  Closet doors are open.  Boxes are scattered.  One trash sack holds shredded documents.  Another old clothes.  Almost every day I throw away a trash sack of long unneeded debris.  The moving is proceeding as planned, but I will be very glad when it is over.  And I miss glancing up and seeing Skull Creek.

Evanston: back in the upper flatlands

We arrived back in Evanston around noon on Saturday. The last stretch was along Lake Shore Drive.  Chicago has a wonderfully accessible lake front due largely to planning by Danial Burnham a century ago. On this glorious summer post-pandemic day, sunny and in the 80s F, walkers, runners, cyclists moved along the lakefront path.  On the water beyond, boats sailed, powered or were anchored with crews sipping and chewing.  

We left Gatlinburg Friday morning soon passing through Pigeon Forge the home of Dollywood. 3,000,000 people a year visit Dollywood, more than visit Hilton Head Island, making it the most visited ticketed attraction in Tennessee.  The main street of what was not that long ago a tiny country village is now a six lane divided highway, bordered for miles by wall to wall spill over attractions.  Arcades, thrill rides, helicopter rides, restaurants, motels, gun shops, even what looks like a court house complete with Greek columns built for some reason upside down. 

We resisted the siren call of all of these and continued north to Frankfort, Kentucky, where we stopped at the Old Friends Farm for retired race horses.  We knew their tours were already booked, but were able to see horses from a reasonable distance, most alone in large penned fields.  Near the entrance to the farm is a graveyard for horses who have passed to that great race track in the sky, complete with tombstones.  I have long thought  that cemeteries for people are a waste of space.  You can infer my thoughts about cemeteries for horses.

About fifteen miles to the west of Old Friends we stopped at Buffalo Trace.  As we knew there, too, the tastings and tours were fully booked and had been more than a week in advance, so we were able only to walk through a small part of the distillery to the gift shop.  The place was much bigger and older and more industrial than I expected.  The buildings are reminiscent of old textile factories in New England.

The gift shop has Buffalo Trace branded merchandise beyond imagination.  We came away with a bottle of Buffalo Trace, a bottle of Buffalo Trace Old Fashioned—Carol likes Old Fashioneds, and a box of Buffalo Trace filled chocolates—I like chocolates.

Onward to the west where we drove around Churchill Downs in Louisville.  It was a race day, but Carol had read that they have a dress code prohibiting shorts, which was all we had with us, and even jeans.  That was o.k.  I am not a gambler and don’t follow horse racing.

While I am likely to irritate some, I find Indiana to be a dull state.  You may recall that Mike Pence was once governor.  The state is flat and I presume good farmland.  We travelled the length of it and the only sight of interest was a huge wind farm north of Indianapolis.

We crossed the state line into Illinois with relief.

At the moment we have three homes and a pocketful of keys.  By the end of the month we will have one less home and several fewer keys.

The morning news reports that on this glorious weekend fifty-five people were shot in Chicago.

Gatlinburg, Tennessee: this is my happy face

You leave Interstate 40 and drive for 25 or 30 miles on a winding two lane road with little traffic and several turnoffs for lookouts to vistas of the Smoky Mountains, then descend into Gatlinburg, a tiny town with a permanent population of 4,000 happily presently overrun by far more than that many tourists.  A mountain Duvall Street.  T-shirt shops.  Pinball arcades.  A ‘Space Needle”.  $16 for an adult to ride to the top.  Outside of town are zip lining, hiking, white water rafting, and zorbing, among others.  I did not know what zorbing is.  I have learned that it is ‘rolling downhill in an orb’, a double walled plastic ball.  A known risk is depleting the oxygen inside the ball and suffocating.  

The crowd seem mostly happy and to be having a good time.  Masks are in complete absence, including us.  We are vaccinated.  I doubt that all others on the crowded main street are.  Tomorrow we breakfast on ‘low calorie biscuits and gravy.’  Well, perhaps not.  An drive on to Buffalo Trace.

Hilton Head Island: stravaig and two others things I did not know plus gone

 

After almost eighty years there are still things I do not know.  This is surprising when many much younger than I are confident they know it all.  

Recently three friends have increased my knowledge.  Sadly I am becoming  doubtful that I will live long enough to know everything, but I am trying.

From Douglas in the UK comes ‘stravaig’ which is Scottish and he says means ‘something like aimless wandering with no destination.’

I googled and find this at the Merriam-Webster online dictionary:

A synonym of "roam," "wander," and "ramble," "stravage" (also spelled "stravaig") isn't likely to pop up in your local newspaper-unless you're stravaging in Scotland or one of its neighbors. "Stravage" is not a new word; our earliest evidence of it dates to the late 18th century, when it likely developed by shortening and alteration from the now-archaic word extravagate, a synonym for "stray" and "roam" that can also mean "to go beyond proper limits." Note that if you use it correctly, you won't be extravagating by using "stravage"-no matter where you call home.

I particularly like ‘to go beyond proper limits’ and wonder who sets them.

From California friends, Susan and Howard, who are driving through the South for the first time, comes the revelation that the world’s biggest fire hydrant is located only 150 miles away.  That is it in the photo above.  It is almost 40’ tall and weighs 675,000 pounds and is so absurd I am unable to resist sharing it.  And I have tried for days to resist.  I am weak.  For more details should you wish them:

https://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/12454

We are not planning a visit.

From Tim comes information about a new Laphroaig.

https://robbreport.com/food-drink/spirits/review-laphroaig-10-year-sherry-oak-finished-single-malt-1234615741/amp/

Since Suntory bought Laphroaig seven years ago I have noticed that the distillery has come out with several new versions.  I have bought bottles of all of them.  Some are all right.  Some, such as Triple Wood, I quite dislike.  None appeal to me as much as the original 10 year which the MBAs who are presumably now making the decisions have thus far been intelligent enough not to mess with.  I have also noticed that the 18 year old Laphroaig has been replaced by a 15 year.  Three years quicker to market.  I have not had the 15 year, but I have drunk with pleasure the 18 year.  It is unquestionably smoother than the 10 year, but I think has less character.

I will buy a bottle of the sherry finished 10 when I can find one and will dutifully report.

I thank Douglas, Susan and Howard, and Tim.

Carol begins to drive us back to Illinois tomorrow.  Nightfall should find us in the Smokey Mountains and Gatlingburg, Tennessee.  We will make the trip in three days this time instead of two and fly back here at the end of the month to meet the Mayflower truck carrying our incoming furniture.

Hilton Head Island: an anniversary

Twenty years ago this week—I think twenty years ago today—Carol and I sailed from Boston for the Azores in the resumption of my long interrupted fourth circumnavigation.  I completed my first circumnavigation in less than a calendar year; my fifth in less than eighteen months; but my fourth took thirteen years, two boats, and two wives.

We had made a five year plan to escape from the land.  This was my second such plan.  I stuck to both and succeeded both times.  The first led up to my first circumnavigation.

Boston is an interesting city with American history, fine colleges, a world class orchestra, rabid sports fans, and an abundance of aggressive and discourteous drivers, but I do not like northern winters and places where I cannot sail year round.  I recall thinking as we started across Massachusetts Bay and I turned and watched the Boston skyline recede beneath the horizon that I would not see it again.  I eagerly turned my back on it and looked east toward the Azores and the future.  How wrong I was.

At Carol’s request I had several pieces of equipment on THE HAWKE OF TUONELA then that I have never had before or since, including an EPIRB, a life raft and radar.  HAWKE had a two cylinder Yanmar diesel, but I have never been willing to run an engine every day to charge batteries.  However, I had determined that the two solar panels we carried on deck were sufficient to run a radar scan for 30 seconds every ten minutes.  I hoped that it could stand collision avoidance watch for us at night, but it proved to provide far too many false positives and I soon rarely used it.

In the next six months we sailed to the Azores, Portugal, Gibraltar, Senegal and Brazil.

Christmas found us in Salvador, Brazil, where an email arrived from one of the founding partners of Carol’s former architectural firm asking her to return to work.  Before our departure Carol was joint number two of the firm of more than fifty architects, behind only the two founding partners.

I told Carol to do whatever would be better for her, but that I hoped never to live again full time in the U.S. and until the past two years I haven’t.  She wanted to see South Africa and told her firm that she would return in June.  We sailed from Salvador to Rio de Janeiro, from Rio to the Bay of Ilha Grande, from there to CapeTown, where after land touring Carol flew back to being a productive member of society and I again became a solo sailor.

Later than year I sailed from Cape Town to Fremantle, Australia, a rough six week passage through the Forties, with eight storms of gale force, four of Force Ten or above, at least two of which went to Force Twelve.  The ‘at least’ is because a wave in one of those storms knocked THE HAWKE OF TUONELA down, masthead below water, and tore off everything up there, wind instruments, tricolor, and Windex.

In 1993 I sailed from Fremantle to Sydney, finally completing by far my slowest circle begun there thirteen years earlier in RESURGAM.

The EPIRB and life raft made it to New Zealand, where one day I chanced upon the EPIRB and found the antenna had broken off.  I disposed of it in the trash and gave the life raft away.