An Epiphany Farewell

Here in France, the religious holiday Epiphany has been secularised and is now a month-long celebration that involves eating way too many rich flakey frangipani cakes with friends to wish each other health, happiness, and prosperity for the coming year, happiness being the only wish actually facilitated by eating these cakes. Buzzed by the sugar and anaesthetised by the butter (with a bit of help from the champagne), we recklessly announce our New Year’s resolutions, confident that no one will remember any of it in the morning.

But I distinctly remember saying that I would (a) try to do more things with my left hand, (b) wear more green, and (c) stop blogging.

As with a and b, an end to blogging has been on my mind for awhile and the time seems right to call it quits. We began blogging as a way to keep our nervous friends and families informed of where we were and what we were doing, and to have a sort of scrapbook of memories for ourselves later on. But blogging, even the minimal efforts provided here, takes a toll, especially if you are trying to keep things up to date while you’re actually out there sailing. Many times, it is sheer drudgery to produce something, and the friends and family are informed of our progress through more timely means anyway.

As I plan next year’s cruise, I realize that the resources I use most are sailing community sites like Noonsite (https://www.noonsite.com/) or Navily (https://www.navily.com/), not other people’s blogs. I think my time would be better spent contributing to those sites rather than producing our own blog. I also have become buried under thousands of photos from our adventures (mercifully in digital form) that need cataloguing, editing, and curating into coherent memoirs, all of which takes a lot of time.

Blogging has introduced me to some amazing people who have become friends, both virtual and real, and it’s a strange and heart-warming experience to have people come up to the boat and say “hey, are you the people with the blog?”

Blog statistics tell me that the top stories people access are: Lewmar Wavegrip Winch Maintenance (we no longer have Lewmar winches), NASA Clipper Duet Depth Tranducer, Parts 1 and 2 (we no longer have Clipper electronics), Harken Winch Maintenance, and the post on our gennaker, The Code D, Demystified: Part 1 (for which there is no part 2). It makes me a little queasy to think that people are coming here for technical advice.

And yes, I admit I have been seduced by the dark side - the fast, slick ease of posting to Facebook has won me over. “Never complain, never explain” is all I have to say about that.

When we left work to start sailing almost 10 years ago now, we didn’t know how far we would go or for how long. We now know that our adventures on Mareda will probably end in the Mediterranean after exploring the Adriatic, Greece, and Turkey (which, mind you, could take years). Patrick recently said to me, “Wait a minute. You’re the one who does all the cruise planning. We’re never actually getting to Greece, are we?” We’ll see about that.

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Thankful for Autumn Cruising

Just in time for thanksgiving, I’m grateful to friends who invited us to spend a few days sailing out to our beautiful islands -

for the friendship and laughter,

for gentle winds, calm seas and autumn sun shining through cool mist,

for the hike along coastal dunes and untouched beaches at sunset,

and the game of petanque and beer at La Trinquette,

for France’s cutest boat dog Nuskha,

and the cheerful salon of the good ship Gudhull with ample room for 7 boisterous sailors wearing multiple layers of clothes and flaming bananas in rhum in perfect security.

For the gentle motion of the boat lulling us to sleep and the soft creaking of wet wood and stretching dock lines, and the moon whose light traces an arc through the cabin that progresses with the night, and the sky full of stars that accompanies a wee-hour pee.

For the fishermen whose engines sputter to life an hour before sunrise and the gulls welcoming the day.

For the smell of strong coffee that hangs in the morning dampness, and for freshly burnt toast.

For our neighbouring boat that shared their catch of squid with us, and the anxiety-filled entertainment offered by the massive conger eels swirling around our feet, snapping up the waste as we cleaned the squid for our dinner.

For a calm anchorage nestled in a rugged coastline that welcomed us for a lunch break and siesta while waiting for the tide to turn.

And most of all, I’m grateful to have found so many kindred spirits who share my never-fading fascination with the sea and boat life. Merci, les amis. Merci.

 

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Halyard Havoc and More About Refugees

After a calm night at anchor in the harbor of Aquilas, we knew we were in for a calm day for the 30 mile sail to Cartagena, so we decided it was time to break out the gennaker. After much heaving and gruntinig to extract the puffy sack from the forward cabin and after rigging all the pulleys and lines needed to make it work, we discovered that the spinnaker halyard that we use to hoist the gennaker was somehow trapped in between the genoa halyard and the mast. It had clearly been this way since we left Gibraltar. With the binoculars I could tell something was wrong but with no details. A photo from my trusty Olympus Tough Camera set to 16 megapixels revealed all once the image was blown up on the computer screen.

Oops.

Apparently, when we hoisted the genoa, we didn’t think about the spinnaker halyard because all seemed clear, and, well, we just didn’t think about it. Our options were to either take down the genoa headsail far enough to pass the spinnaker halyard around, or to climb the mast and pass the spinnaker halyard around the genoa halyard by hand, neither of which I was keen to do at anchor.

We headed off, disgruntled, in light winds and prepared to put up the main sail, more for show and a little shade than for its wind-capturing abilities. Today was to be the day when all of the halyards conspire against us. The main sail halyard had wrapped itself around the deck lamp on the front of the mast and was, as we say back home, “stuck but good”. I must have left too much slack in it after taking down my riding sail and the feeble winds in the anchorage were just enough to loop it around the lamp. We tried a variety of tricks, turning the boat into the wind, to the side, to the rear with no success. Finally we used our longest boat hook and Patrick climbed our 2 mast steps to reach as high as possible to try to swing it out and around the lamp. After a few painful attempts, he managed to loosen it enough that we could pull it around. No fun, but no harm done either. Afterwards, I thought another method would be to hoist a fender (with lines attached to both ends) and the bulk of the fender would force the halyard to go out and around. Anyway, it’s always something.

And then we were in for 7 hours of motor “sailing”.

Heard on the radio: 20 people adrift on a rubber raft approaching Cartagena, exact position unknown. Everyone asked to keep an eye out for them and report any sightings.

I knew that the Med was having a refugee crisis. We hear about it on the news in France often, but I had no idea of the extent, and no idea that Spain was on the front lines, although it makes geographic sense. Here in Europe, we always hear about Italy’s crisis, but judging by the radio calls, Spain is responding to daily rescues.

The recommendation for sailors who see a refugee raft is to stay as far away as possible and to call the authorities to report their position. When the refugees see boats, even a small sailboat like ours, they assume it is safer than the rubber raft they are in, and they have been known to jump into the water and try to swim to your boat. More extreme stories report that the refugees set fire to their raft, trying to force you to respond. But rescuing them puts YOU in danger. Our sailboat, for example, is stability rated for only about 8 adults. Putting 20 panicked adults on board risks capsizing your boat and there’s no way to control such a situation by saying “women and children only” in that kind of drama.

Here in Cartagena, a Dutch friend who wintered over began working as a volunteer for an NGO that deals with these refugees when they arrive. She teaches basic Spanish, but mostly ends up translating from French or English into Spanish for the various aid organizattions. She has some horrific stories about what the refugees are fleeing and what they went through to reach the Spanish coast. It seems crazy to most of us simply watching the drama unfold on the tv why they keep coming here when they are almost always picked up by the coast guard and returned back to where they came from.

In fact, it’s not that simple. First of all, as my friend points out, most of the ones making the journey don’t have television and don’t know the real risks or what happens. There seem to be two or three outcomes depending on where the refugees are from and their situations. They typically destroy all of their identity documents so that it is not possible to easily identify where they come from. Anyone who is clearly Moroccan usually gets sent back since it’s close by. But often the authorities simply inform the refugee that he does not have the right to stay on Spanish soil and that he must go home. Huh? No plane ticket, no bus ticket, no rubber dinghy… just “go home”. Then there are the refugees that ask for asylum and begin a long and uncertain process of trying to legalize their claims to stay. Spain is a particularly attractive landing place for refugees since it is faster to qualify for health care, get jobs in the fishing or agriculture industries, and nationality is attributed to foreign spouses of Spanish nationals after only 3 years. My friend says most of the fruits and vegetables grown in Spain and eaten all throughout Europe were almost certainly picked by workers who were once refugees. So many of the refugees are getting through and are able to eek out a living once the ordeal of the crossing is over (and much to the benefit of the European economy, I suspect).

Patrick and I asked ourselves what we would do if we saw a boat, or worse, a body. It’s hard to accept that we are here living a dream in a place where people are literally dying all around us. My knee-jerk reaction is to say we’ll leave the Med and go somewhere else out of some confused sense of solidarity, but how would this help anyone? As we make our way along the coast, we get further away from the passage points and the refugee crisis will likely fade into a scrapbook memory. It leaves me feeling sad and helpless and a little bit ashamed. 

And now, back to our vacation.  News from Cartagena forthcoming... we thoroughly enjoyed it.

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Four Days To Go and a Change of Plans

I think I mentioned in the last blog that sailing plans are written in sand at low tide. Even though the tides are very small in the Med, it didn’t take much for us to wipe out our winter plans. It was probably that full moon last night that did the trick.

Instead of wintering over in Sardinia, we’ve decided to head up the east coast of Corsica for the winter. For reasons I can’t remember, I assumed that Corsica would be more expensive than Sardinia and I didn’t even bother looking at possible winter spots.

Patrick snorkeling in the Lavezzi Islands in southern Corsica a few years ago. Sardinia is in the background only 10 nautical miles away.

I recently realized that we will have 2 full months of sailing time once we reach the Sardinian coast and that this was more than enough to enjoy the north coast and still head over to Corsica. After studying the pilot books and scouring blogs and forums, the port of Taverna / Campoloro jumped out at us as a possibility for on-ground winter storage. It’s cheaper than the port we were eyeing in Sardinia (Nautica Pinna in Bosa), has slightly easier travel connections to get back home, and, if ever we have problems, we’d rather fight our battles in French than in Italian (I know, not very sporting of us...)

The east coast of Corsica is much less exposed to winter winds than the west coast of Sardinia, and as an added bonus, Taverna lines us up nicely for a 2018 cruise across to Elbe island and down the Italian coast on our way to Greece.

We generally avoid making fixed plans, but finding a spot to leave your boat for the winter deserves a bit of forethought and planning, especially if you’re far away from home. Although having plans may kill the romance of long-distance cruising, I’m happy to not have to spend our last month on board stressed-out with trying to find a suitable and affordable wintering option. I don’t know about you, but I don’t do romance under stress very well. My inner sea turtle is at peace with this option.

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Bits n Bobs: One week to go !

We had a flopper-stopper party last week, with curious sailing friends in attendance to check out our new parahoule (at-anchor roll stabilizer). Everyone agreed that it is a very clever design and has several big advantages over other commercial systems out there. We’ll surely put it to the test in the near future. After they all left, the neighbours called over: “what’s that weird thing dangling from your upstairs window?” so we told them to come over and check it out and help us finish off the last of the rosé wine. Another bottle later, they waddled home and we proved that we could disassemble the parahoule with some roll of our own.

Our previous arrival in Gibraltar.

We installed Anchor Watch Pro on the smartphone, which sets off an alarm if your anchor starts to drag. (I really wanted the app called “drag queen” - such a great name! - but it just wasn’t as fancy.) It’s less energy hungry than our vhf / on-board gps system (I think?) so we can leave it on overnight. It also has the advantage that you can click on “anchor down” just as you start letting out the chain, marking the location of your anchor so that you always have a bearing and distance to let you know if your anchor is underneath the neighbour's boat before you plan to leave. If you have a 2^nd phone with a local sim card (which we don’t), you can leave the alarm phone on the boat when you go ashore and it will send you a text message alarm if the boat moves while you’re away.

Patrick is a marvel. Last week, we were chatting with some friends who suggested that a new boat is like a new car – it loses significant value after the first year. With this in mind, he called up our insurance agent and asked if we could re-evaluate our insurance policy for the boat. He came back from the meeting with a huge grin: fees reduced by 54% saving us over 900 Euros !!!! What a man ! (and thanks, friends, for the idea.)

We’ve started packing. This is a particularly difficult exercise for me because I like things to be orderly and logical. But order and logic often take up more space than chaos does. Around the parahoule sack, I’ve got little air pockets just perfect for a pair of socks, or a small bottle, or one sandal. I’m using this as a warm-up exercise for going-with-the-flow that is so important in boat life.

We’ve printed out our boarding passes. We’ve organized our car-pool service (called blah blah car) to get to the airport, we’ve called the hotel to let them know we’ll arrive late, we’ve checked out the bus schedules to get to La Linea, and we’ve contacted the marina to have them activate our pontoon pass for the morning of our arrival (love modern marinas !).

Marina Alcaidesa, La Linea de la Concepcion, Spain.

Yesterday, I spent the day taking written and oral French language tests for my application for French citizenship. I’m very glad it’s over. I won’t get the results for another 3 weeks. Our neighbours will receive my results in the mail and let me know by email. (Note to future commuter-cruisers: always have good neighbours.)

Note to self for next year: always have lots of aperitif drinks and snacks on hand for the month before departure. The number of “bon voyage” soirées seems to get bigger every year.

The way we left her.

To relax between study sessions for my French test, I took the Meyers-Briggs personality test (thanks to a blog post by Human Resources guru Ellen at the Cynical Sailor) and discovered my spirit animal, which is very important for deciding on the tattoo I plan to get for my 50^th birthday. The results: I am an ENFJ sea turtle ! What does that mean? Endless hours of fun pondering past, present, and future actions, of course. One concrete example: Meyers-Briggs defines ENFJs as “idealist organizers” and the sea turtle serenely carries his home on his back, which allows him to feel at home anywhere. Now, pray tell, how is an ENFJ sea turtle supposed to pack? There is NO ideal way to organize your home on your back (or boat) ! I’ve tried! Oh how I’ve tried! I haven’t solved my problem, but at least I now know the root of my dilemma. See? How fun was that?

Between now and take-off time: 2 doctor’s appointments; hosting one (planned) bon voyage soirée; moving the plants outside, slapping them on the backside and wishing them good luck; loading up on fresh mothballs; finishing the last bits of food in fridge, freezer and pantry (always makes for interesting meals…); printing out boarding passes, hotel reservations, bus schedules, and proof of insurance in 3 languages; charging all the cameras (2), e-readers (2) and computers (3) for an eventual inspection at the airport; and most importantly, embracing my inner sea turtle to find peace in the stress.

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Doomsday Update

In 15 days, we migrate to boat life for 6 months. Hotels and airlines have been booked, haul-out and repairs have been arranged, charts have been loaded, ports and anchorages explored, the lawn mowed and hedges trimmed, house-sitters arranged, and various new boat tools and toys bought. 

But leaving home is not “doomsday”. One of our final-countdown activities – probably our least favorite but most important – is updating our doomsday book.

As long as we're talking about doom... Med moorings await us !

This is a file (black cover, of course) that contains all the information we need to transmit to those left behind in the event of our demise or incapacity to act. It contains contact information for extended family, insurance information, where to find wills and testaments, bank information and deeds. We send a short summary for first-response information to Patrick’s kids, and print out the rest for later reference.

No, we aren’t paranoid, but you never know and we certainly don’t want to leave a mess behind. Our insurance covers repatriation and some funeral costs, as well as professional assistance for jumping through all the administrative hoops involved in sudden accidental death in a foreign county. There’s no way the kids could know what assistance is available through our existing insurance unless we tell them, and it’s not in the flurry of shock that such discoveries could be made in a timely fashion.

It seems appropriate to finish this task at Easter, a holiday commemorating rebirth or triumph over death. And now for some chocolate !!!

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Cruising Expectations 2017

Assessing your expectations are an important part of cruise preparation. They help you identify the equipment you might need or potentially useful techniques, but also help you to mentally accept that it won’t all be a bed of roses out there.

He probably wasn't expecting this...

Last week we met up with a cruising buddy with experience sailing around the Balearic Islands. Within a 20-minute span of time, he told us to expect polluted waters, obscenely over-priced marinas, ever-changing and unpredictable winds, rolly anchorages, bling-bling boats and boom-boom discotheques, and anchorages so crowded that you can’t set out the appropriate length of anchor chain.

“So why do you keep going back?” we asked in amazement.

With a surprised look and wide Gallic shrug, he replied, “Because it’s MARVELOUS!”

And so we begin our 2017 cruise preparations with a new set of expectations.

To start with, let’s look back at how well we did last year with this same exercise. Last March, we began discussing cruise preparations for our trek from Brittany (France) across the Bay of Biscay, around Galicia, down the Atlantic coast of Portugal, left along the Algarve, and through the tight squeeze of the straights of Gibraltar. As part of that exercise, we made a list of expectations based on blogs, first-person accounts, and nautical guides. How well did we do? I calculated 44% failure rate. Here are the expectations that were wrong: 

Chilly temperatures and fog in Galicia. We weren’t eager to go swimming but the temperatures were pleasant and surprisingly we didn’t have any fog until we got down the Portuguese coast, and even then, we only had one day where things were dicey for a while.

Unmarked or poorly marked fishing nets and pots. Nets and pots were everywhere, and some areas were total minefields for many miles, but they WERE well marked. Of course, that didn’t prevent us from hitting one. 

Many Med-style moorings. We only had one in Bayona. It was okay, but with a 1.5-meter tide running at the time, the Med-mooring to a fixed (non-floating) pier was challenging. 

Med mooring in Bayona, Spain.  More difficult to tie up, but much easier to get on and off the boat.

Uncomfortable rolly anchorages. I don’t recall any that made us lose sleep, which is surely the main test of whether or not the anchorage was okay or not.

Improved fishing skills. Honesty, can’t remember why we expected this…

This year ushers in a new set of expectations, based again on others’ blogs, nautical guides, accounts of friends with experience in the area, and a slightly-improved understanding of our boat and ourselves. For 2017, we expect:

All the things our friend warned us about. However, since “forewarned is forearmed”, we hope to avoid the worst. Another cruising friend says that the Balearic Islands offer something for everyone and you can almost always find peace somewhere.

Med-style moorings. This time, we can’t get away from it. Once we leave La Linea, we’re not expected to see another finger berth for some time.

Using our 2^nd anchor and chain off the back of the boat to limit swing in crowded anchorages. We’ve done this in sailing school but never on Mareda.

Expensive ports. This is in addition to the “obscenely” expensive ports our friend warned us about. There are a few marinas in the 100 euros / night range, but most are between 40-60 euros per night for Mareda, which is okay if it’s only for short-term stays. Mooring buoys can be had for 20-30 euros per night. We intend to anchor out as much as possible to keep the overall port costs reasonable.

Carefully-planned and precisely-executed commando raids in ports offering short-term tie-ups for a small fee (generally 20 euros for 1.5 hours). Water and electricity hook ups, food shopping and laundry duties will have to be rapid and efficient.

Lots of dinghy time (buy extra gasoline).

Meals from a can. Since we’ll be anchoring out a lot and trips ashore will be reduced, we’ll have to get used to canned food. We’ve never done this before, since one of our biggest pleasures of cruising is shopping at the local produce markets. Patrick has slowly accepted that he may not get fresh bread very often (but he has already claimed ALL of the freezer space for his limited bread stocks).

Capricious weather and rolly anchorages. We’ll do our best to cope with the swell (see Flopper Stopper post). We know that jumping from anchorage to anchorage to try to find the least uncomfortable will be our principle nautical pastime in the islands.

Warm crystalline waters, hot weather, living in swimsuits and sandals, gorgeous postcard-perfect surroundings (sometimes, anyway).

Rocks. To be avoided in general, and to avoid around the anchor and chain, if possible (and setting up a trip line, just in case).

Interior heat management (wind scoops, sun shades, bimini) and water rationing (washing dishes in saltwater, rinse in fresh; same for showers, etc.)

Charming old towns with labyrinths of cobblestone streets, hippy markets, ancient caves, perched mountain villages, UNESCO world heritage sites, great food and wine.

A zen Sardinia after the hustle and bustle of the Balearic Islands, off season and in areas with few charter boat facilities.

Honing our “roll with the punches” attitudes. This will be a hard one for me, as I tend to like the “by the book” approach, but I realize that we’ll have to be ready to squeeze into a space or pick up a buoy FIRST and ask questions LATER. (Is possession still 9/10^ths of the law in the Balearics?)

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Countdown to Cruising 2017 Begins

With only 6 weeks to go before we head off for 6 months, we’ve been keeping very busy with cruise preparations.  What, you ask, is there to do when your boat is far away in Gibraltar?  Here’s a sampling of what off-season sailors do:

(…and the photo theme, in keeping with the “what off-season sailors do” theme is A Day at the Beach in the Breton Winter.  Click on photos for larger versions).

Battle with phone company won by Patrick; 55 Euros per month for telephone service and 30-GB internet that can be used in the 6 months on the boat outside of France.  No more lost days running around to Portuguese/Spanish/Italian phone operators trying to understand how their pre-paid cards work.

2^nd credit card ordered for our main bank account.  If we lose one or it is stolen, we just cancel that one and continue with the 2^nd one … no waiting around for a new card to be mailed.

Small repairs on Mareda approved by Jeanneau guarantee and appointments made with shipyards in Spain to do the work.

House-sitting arranged.  We’ll have friends and family staying in our house this year, and have made a “how to” document to describe how to turn on / off the water and electricity.

Patrick and friend cart sailing, Presqu'il de Quiberon

Nav planning progressing.  General strategy set, every cala and port in the Balearics and northern Sardinia investigated, dozens of emails sent to marinas for availability and price quotes for wintering options.

Tourism planning begun.  Yes, yes, tourism.  It’s not all about the boat.  Very excited about Sardinia!

Transportation logistics finalized for the trip down.  Plane tickets bought, hotels reserved, bus schedules studied.

Haul-out, hull wash, and relaunch scheduled in La Linea.  We’ll have 3.5 days to scrape and repaint the hull, change the sail-drive oil, and replace the zincs while the boat is out of the water.

Patrick zips along while I try photographic panning for the first time.

Anti-fouling paint ordered and sent to Accastillage Diffusion in La Linea.

Search for paper charts initiated.  Yes local sailing friends, I’ll be calling YOU to see if you can loan me your paper charts!  I know I don’t really need them with 3 independent systems of electronic charts (MaxSea, OpenCPN, Navionics), but I like having at least a large-scale route map with me.

Computer preparation underway.  Update computers with latest versions of grib viewer; update OpenCPN with Pierre’s brilliant Google Earthand Navionics maps embedded; backups-a-go-go; bought new battery for Sony Vaio. 

Spare solar panel charge regulator bought.  We had one of these go bad before.  It’s easy to fix but would be long and costly to have delivered to the islands.

Planning for friends and family to join us underway.  Juggling schedules and potential port stops is always a challenge.

To do list / To buy list in progress.  Items include a Parahoule System, new Breton and Spanish flags, Italian flag, 2 additional 10-liter jerrycans for fresh water, trip line for the anchor, no-suds salt-water bath gel and shampoo, and maybe an additional mosquito net.

Entertainment Gathering.  E-books, movies, and music being researched and loaded.

The clock is ticking !!

The day after Storm Zeus on the Wild Coast, Quiberon.

Sea foam piled up like snow and flying through the air.

Foam beach.

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Sunshine Blogging

Viki from Astrolabe Sailing nominated us for the Sunshine Blogger Award, given from one blogger to another for positive, creative and inspiring blog posts.  Thank you very much, Viki!  Coming from you (how many magazine articles have you published now?) this is indeed a great honor.

Alas, we feel inadequate to respond as we should.  We always feel awkward giving people advice about how to undertake and fund a life afloat, for example.  Who wants to hear “work hard, save every penny, and wait for retirement”?  That’s not our advice to anyone, it’s just the way we did it, more or less.  We are also not very good candidates for the award since we can’t really pass on the blog love.  I’ve curtailed my blog reading this year since we only have decent internet during the winter months, and I noticed that all of the blogs I do follow have already been nominated! (…and with good reason.)

So instead of making an attempt to participate fully, I’ve tried to answer Viki’s questions using some of my favourite quotes that I’ve been saving up for a rainy day. Even if it doesn’t always make much sense, I hope you enjoy it!

What do you enjoy most about traveling and or sailing?

Voyage, travel, and change of place impart vigor. - Seneca

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity. -Dorothy Parker

For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim's time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort. -Aldous Huxley

To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world. You are surrounded by adventure. You have no idea of what is in store for you, but you will, if you are wise and know the art of travel, let yourself go on the stream of the unknown and accept whatever comes in the spirit in which the gods may offer it”  -Freya Stark

The sail, the play of its pulse so like our own lives: so thin and yet so full of life, so noiseless when it labors hardest, so noisy and impatient when least effective.  - Henry David Thoreau

What are the most challenging aspects of your adventurous lifestyle?

A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. – John Steinbeck

Security is mostly a superstition.  Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all.  –Hellen Keller.

What evil luck so ever

For me remains in store,
’Tis sure much finer fellows
Have fared much worse before.  - A. E. Houseman

We accomplish more by prudence than by force. -Tacitus

How do you fund your sailing and travels, and what advice can you give to others wanting to do the same?

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow

A thousand times

Come, yet again, come, come.

— Jalal ad-Din Mohammed Balkhi (Rumi)

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than those you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.  -uncertain (usually attributed to Twain).

Too many people spend money they earn to buy things they don’t want to impress people that they don’t like.  -Will Rogers

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it in your back pocket.  -Will Rogers

The successful warrior is the average man, with laser-like focus.  -Bruce Lee

I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.  -Thomas Jefferson

Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.

-Thomas Edison

What is one off-the-beaten path location you’d recommend that we visit?

(replace train references with boat ones!)

The railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn’t a train goes by,

Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,

And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,

And better friends I’ll not be knowing;

Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,

No matter where it’s going.
-Edna St. Vincent Millay

If you have a book you re-read often, what is it? If not, what’s your favorite book?

“Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,” he went on dreamily: “messing-about--in--boats; messing-about in boats--or WITH boats,” the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. “In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not.”  -The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Graham

What’s the strangest thing you’ve eaten or drunk while traveling?

Okay – no quotes for this one:

Sea urchins.  Despite how much butter and garlic you add, and no matter how much wine you drink to wash it down, it’s still just gross.

What do you enjoy most about blogging?

The word that is heard perishes, but the letter that is written remains.  -Anonymous

Or don’t you like to write letters?  I do because it’s such a swell way to keep from working and yet feel you’ve done something.  -Ernest Hemingway

When did your passion for sailing/traveling start and how did you make your dream a reality?

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward in the same direction.   -Antoine de Saint Exupery

What is one item you can’t live without when you are sailing/traveling.

It’s hard to find a good quote about sun screen!  SPF 50 every 2 hours (recommended; we usually do well to apply it 3 times / day). 

Where are you from, and what are some fantastic things to see in that part of the world?

The south coast of Brittany in France is rimmed with islands and archipelagos, where isolated sand beaches and shallow turquoise waters can resemble the Caribbean. One tourist brochure is marketing the southern coastal islands of Brittany as the “Breton Caribbean”.  The comparison is a pretty good one until you dive into the 18° C / 64° F water!  The main islands off the coast that are “musts”:  The Glenans archipelago, Groix, Belle Isle, Houat and Hoedic:  all with idyllic anchorages, gorgeous beaches, beautiful islands to discover on foot (Glenans, Hoaut, Hoedic) or on bike / scooter (Groix, Belle Isle).   

What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned from your travels?

Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all people cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.  -Maya Angelou

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