asking for a transfer...

On our little tour of Trinidad, we came accross this random sign in the middle of the jungle. Crazy, they're everywhere man. Taking over the world as they force us all to become desk dwellers. Well thats it mun, I'm putting in my papers for a transfer, if this is the view I'll get while dwelling at my desk here.

the deck of death...

I was on my 12 till 3am watch, again! Nothing much was happening as the foresail (yip) had slipped down the mast and deemed useless. So we were motoring in an alternative to going up the mast to fix it. When you're motoring the only real job is to play look-out every 10 mins. So I was chilling at the helm, being hypnotised by the phosphuresence in our wake which rivals any night sky, when out of the corner of my eye I saw something small moving rather rapidly towards me. I turned at the last minute only to recieve a big wet slimmy slap on the cheek. Obviously a bit flussered and confused, my arms went up and fists drawn looking for the guilty one, in order to pay him his dues. It was pitch black and there was no-one in sight. About a minute after this, still in a slight daze, I recieved another blow from behind, this one I took to the arm. The salty smell of fish was then my first clue as the second flying fish danced around on the deck looking for the ocean it had left behind. Now I don't think it was a personal vendebtor these two kamokazi youngesters had for me, but I put it down to the bright light of my head torch drawning them in like moth to a flame. So the lesson of the day is, don't wear any bright lights while walking around the "deck of death" and always blame it on the fish.

improving my vocab...

The night time watches have been filled with exciting characters such as Thor Heyerdahl (thanks Harry), Mr Armstrong, Mr Strauss, Nelson etc. I highly recommend Kon-tiki as a good read. Its real life stuff. His descriptions are fantastic and thoeries and belief in himself second to none. One bit that stuck fast, was the description about Easter Island. It is still a mystery to the world where those face statues (not actually just face statutes but whole figures buried to the neck) come from. He talks of possible theories about adventuring white men, with red beards, defined noses, delicate lips and strong physics. He believes they were from a clan of nomadic people of South America, with strong believes in the forces of sun and ocean. I found that all of this I could relate too and I really do hope I make it to the island on this adventure. Will keep you posted.

the artworks..

I completed a number of pieces some of which I have shared with you all, here.

A turn for the worse...

Jon describes it as no longer a happy ship. Maybe this happens after strangers spend so much time together at close quarters or maybe there are other conditions unique to ours that have made it so. I believe it is the later. Before embarking on this part of the adventure I asked Skipper Lewi, through his experience what I should expect. He mentioned that food always becomes an issue on board. Here I definitely agree, as it seems meal time is filled with a dig or too from the skipper, usually stating that we have used to much food. It seems we can't put a foot right of late and every watch relief comes with a compliant as to our actions. I believe there is a high correlation between this and my truthfulness about abandoning ship at the next stop, Panama. If its not the use of the communial space then is the washing up which we do everyday without compliant. If its not the knot tieing, its the use of the battery power. It been pretty primative stuff. We use head torches for everything we do, no use of the showers or running water, no hot water etc. I think it also put things into perspective when we made some mates in Trinidad delivering yachts too and compared war stories.Yup, its become your regular boot camp, lead by Heinrich Himmler of the Gestapo. With all this negativity one has to take some lessons from it,to make it worth while. I believe the main one is you may know all there is to know about your something, but if you can't lead, inlfuence or motivate the Indians, the wheels will come off sooner or later. So its with a self driven happy bounce and postive attitude I have ridden the swells over this last week. But I can safely say I will be happy to get my feet onto dry land once more and on to the next part of my little adventure.

Da beach mon, just needs a rideable wave...

Early the following day, we embarked on road trip which took us up into the highlands, using the only road over to the eastern side of the island. In the rainy season you may find yourself stranded on this side if the rains are bad, as the road is the only one, is pretty tretrious and subject to regular flooding. However the beach, called Maracas beach, is well worth the trip. Due to the splendour of it we couldn't just stop there but had to push on to find what other hotspots the jungle hid around the next bend. Well the pictures say it all. Fortune favours the brave. Pretty postcard stuff.

Whats the Caribbean without your token Rustafarian mun. What a dude!

Celebrating the crossing woohooo.

the fast food of Trinidad, a fruitful experience...

Jon and I went for a little drive one evening to take in the sights, sounds and tastes of the true Trinidad. We drove into St James town and bought a couple of Stag and Carib beers. Both were nice, although not having had one for 40 days makes it a little bais. As I mentioned before the town was hectic, with taxis and buses everywhere stopping at anytime so the "Hari's" and "Main road" driving experience came in handy. It was all abit overwhelming for us sailing foke though, so we headed for the solitude of the higher ground. Basically we just picked a road that headed into the hills and drove up it. Evenutally we hit what can be only described as the "white boys hood", right up in the hieghts. It had a boom and plenty of big dogs, both of which, funnily enough were quite forthcoming. The vegetation was very tropical and jungley and made an ideal spot for our beers. They all went down like homesick moles. On route back to the harbour we had a very interesting stop involving some coconuts. We pulled in at Chris and Matha´s fruit stall back in town. This proved to be, well, a very "fruitful" experience. These stalls are kind of like the Macdonalds of the islands which probably explains the islanders fine physic. I say this because while we were there, experiencing our first semi ripened coconut, I noticed that a number of customers, mostly regulars by the Chris´ banter, stopped and didn't take the various fruits away to eat it. Instead Chrsi would wash and peal them while the customer stood in the stall, chattered and chowed away. This was a very common occurence over our half-hour indulgence. Good business ethics, I tell you, returning loyal customers. I also learnt there are three types of coconuts - semi ripe, ripe and mature. Semi ripe is still a bit green but the water inside, once sliped open very skillfully using a tool like a machete, was clear and semi sweet. There was very little of the white interior in these. The ripe ones are more greeny orange and their insides contain a sweet milky juice with a tender white substance similar to yoghurt. Once the juice is finished you use a piece of the shell as a spoon to get the yoghurt bit out, mmmm. The mature ones are the hard small furry nuts with mature coconut juice inside and the hard white coconut fruit everyone knows. All equally fantastic for my first real coconut experience. We purchased 20 for the trip to Panama. O no, dribbly guts.

Trinidad, "respect mun"...

Stone, I see what you mean about these Caribbeans and their liming. After 30 or so continuous days on board the first thing I did after stepping onto the docks, was to wonder off to find a stranger to chat too. His name was Derck. Without a doubt the first thing I saw him doing was exactly this. For those of you in the dark, liming is a form of chilling, relaxing, wasting time/doing nothing while enjoying the company of others or kind of like taking an endless smoke break, without the smoke. So we just talked about a little bit less than nothing, until I was summond by the captian to clear into immigration. I usually find a good judge of what to expect from a country comes with the first person you have to interact with. Invariably this is the immigration officer. Its like in the US they´re rather nasty and unfriendly similar to the big bussling place that it is, with everyone on the go and in their own very busy worlds. Trinidad I can safely say was quite the opposite. We walked into immigration with 3 guys watching Die Hard. They were glued to the TV and nothing but big grins to say hi. "ya mun just fill in one of the forms and welcome to da Caribbean mun."

To desribe Trinidad, one only has to look at where it finds its roots, Africa. Its not like South Africa though, as its more chaotic. More like Zimbabwe, but more relaxed and without all the colonials lurking about. (like the present day Zim I suppose).

As I've come to experience from travels, the best investment one can make in a new place, is to hire some sort of transport. Here there was little difference to what you might expect in Zim. We sourced a good old Nissan Sunny, with a shot suspension and in desparate need of some panel beating. This is ideal though as no one will notice any further dents you put in it. Furthermore you don't bring any further attention to yourself as there's plenty of this already, being a "white boy" and all.

There were some further differences though. There were no motobikes or scooters to my surprise and relief. The next difference was regarding the dogs. As they can only see in black and white, I became somewhat of a surprise to most. Thus I obtained a large number of barks, snarls etc on my little wonders around the nieghbourhood. Payback for all those years of owning a "rottie" (big evil dog) I reckon.

Conclusion of Chapter 1..

I've done plenty of reading. This is in an effort to improve my English (hope it shows) and weed out any bad habits, before passing them onto the Peruvian kids. I've completed a number of pieces in prep for my exhibition in Nov time. I will keep you all posted. The Spanish learning has been slow, but I've learnt some useful phrases and tried them out on some Venezuelan ladies. I've learnt how to sail a 40 ft Kat, which is pretty exciting because after speaking to the skipper and charter company, I can now take one of these puppies out for a week or two with my mates. There is a huge bell ringing in my head for a surf trip in the Pacific woohoo, Dec time maybe. Please put comments if anyone is keen, shouldn't be to expensive and would be an amazing experience swanning around the Pacific Islands.The CFA studying on track - geek. I've learnt a number of star constellations which have always been a mystery to me. And finally I've learnt a whole bunch of stuff about Tommy P. All in all, the trip so far has been one life enriching experience.

The Arrival.. in the Caribbean..

I was on the 12 to 3am watch again, chilling at the bows listening to some happening beats and then I saw it. The light house off the Galier Point, you have never seen a more happy man. As if attracted to sense the excitment and happiness a school of about 30 dolphins, swam out to greet us and bring us in. I felt like a Roman emperor where the centurians have been sent out to bring us into the city. To add to this, on the evening of the 3rd March, there was a solar eclipse, (not that anyone in London saw it, mind you). So the night had a special glow about it already. Coupled with the dolphins playing in the swells and providing a few arials in the moon light, I would say this was quite a special site, defintiely a moment made to last.

Our TV half hour...

At about 6 every night, after dinner (boat food mmm yum yum) we sit down for some tea or rooibos. This is the equivalent of our TV time. As you can may have guessed there have been endless sun sets on the trip and each one quite unique. It was in one of these very relaxed moments that I finally saw the green flash that everyone raves about. Its that very ideallic moment when the sun's angle comes down to the horizon and hits the stratosphere. The blue of the stratosphere and the yellow of the sunlight mix to form a green. Its a flash due to the movement of the sun. You can only see it when one can see the horizon, there are no smoky browns (i.e. no air pollution or dust particles) and there are a limited number of clouds in the sky. So pretty chancy stuff but very cool to see. (This is my interpretation by the way, so for all you critics out there, crit away)

The wild-life...

Besides Ines, Jon and I, who, after not seeing another human for 40 days are behaving rather like wild animals, the remainder of the wild life has be quite exceptional. I can only describe our friendly ocean going mammals i.e. dolphins (look in bottom left corner of adjacent picture) and whales as unbelievably trusting. Considering they are wild creatures and the boat is pretty large, these guys do not understand the meaning of "my dance space, your dance space". Its almost as if they are cruising along riding the swells, when one of the gang spots the yacht and says "hey buggers, there's a yacht over there, woohoo lets go gate crash the party". Their arrive with huge aerial displays and distinctive rhyming beeps, seems to be them showing off and just to let the party know that have arrived. They then head straight to dominate the dance floor in the wake and bows of the boat. But that's no the surprising thing, its just how dam close the are prepared to push the physical contact thing, is. I can honestly say I've given both species a high five & "thanks for coming boys" and seen some fantastic smiles, the ones only made with the eyes. So When these unexpected guests pop round, you were always sure of an unforgettable experience.Did you know that you will never catch a dolphin or whale with a hook - rather strange you can't catch the mammals of the sea(not that I would want to ), but you can catch all the fish. Speaking of which, as Ines is a keen fisherman, he leaves a line out most of the time. This results in the occasional excitement when the real buzz's out of control, Which to be quite honest hasn't happened that often. Ines says its due to all the drag net fishing and other illegal goings on with our friends from the far east and the Spanish. Its really sad. Which made what we did even more unforgivable. The real went one dozy afternoon, only this time it was truly out of control. We looked at the horizon and saw an awesome display while a sail fish tried to free itself from our hook. It seemed to dance across the water in quick graceful turns and twists. The line ran out in matters of seconds. The other two, Ines and Jon had been having poor luck up until now and did not want to take the rod, so I took it but with the exact opposite intention of that of a normal fisherman. I wanted to set this guy free. But after half an hour of fighting and attempting to perform my catch and release program, the poor fish was exhausted. I've been told by many a keen fisherman that it is cruel to let them go when they are in this condition. So I reluctantly pulled it closer to the boat where Ines gaffed it and bought it on board, not without nearly being pulled in the water with one last powerful attempt by the fish to get away. As Murphy's law goes as Ines pulled it on board, the large hook in its bill just simply fell loosely on the deck, as if to rub it in my face. So we had "Sally the Sail fish" steaks for 7 days on the trot, just to ensure she didn't go to waist. I'm told you would pay top dollar for such a meal in a good restaurant and as it could no be any fresher and cost nothing, it was hard not to chuckle at the irony of it.

In the early hours of the morning, on deck patrol, We frequently found that the various types of flying fish. It seems they decided that our yacht was more of a aircraft carrier and look like sound landing spot. Invariably their judgement was wrong like this one who seemed to be in the middle of dinner - talk about "sussi on the go" this guy has a squid almost as big as him in his mouth. I reckon he would have choked anyway.

Heaven and Hell, in one Day...

In anticipation of 30 days at sea, I decided to indulge in a little jog around Walvis bay. I say indulge but that is never really be the case at 40-45 degree heat. So I headed out along the promenade which was very pretty, taking me past the Great Flamingos feeding grounds, then the equivalent of "Camps bay" suburbs and on into the desert- "the Skeleton coast". I was amazing how quickly I was suddenly surrounded by huge sandy bronze dunes. Stretching to every horizon and turning purple and blue with the distance. It truly took you breath away, in every meaning of the phrase = HEAVEN. You may think I was crazy, but I was not alone on my run, yes there were other locals doing the same.

Back on board, the skipper had given us a "pink ticket" to go ashore, the first mate and I headed out to check out the night life of Walvis bay. We hit a place called "the deck" first, very similar to the Look-out in Plete and then headed onto a place called "Cantina Joes". Now this was a very staunch Dutch hang out, but the vibe was cool and there was some eye candy floating around, so we had ourselves a few Amstels and shot a few rounds of pool. That was our original intention anyway as we seemed to be on fire, no-one could remove us from the table. The locals were pissed and sending there best against us. (It is was quite funny when we arrived the following night and nobody wanted to play against us.) After 10 games or so, we got chatting to some ladies who scored us lift to the next joel on the other side of town, by the port, miles away, yay. I was loving the vibe here, and no before you all ask there was no Belinda Carlise playing, but the music was a bit more my scene and I was putting out all the big moves. However Jon was in a funny place and I sensed this. I've slowly become aware that he is super keen on the chocolate dishes and he's happy to fork-out for it. (its amazing how different things are, when you from just north of the Zambezi). So when I asked whats up and he said he wanted to go to another place he'd heard about, I should have known better. So we ditched the girls and cool vibes and headed out to a place called "Ingkulus". Basically in about 2 seconds you know where you are - "a Brothel". This was a serious eye opener, but basically = HELL, but who's judging. The customers included Koreans and Japaneses sailors all of whom were never that high on my list anyway but have fallen further down since. I am happy to report that my "good morals" and sensible talking convinced Jon that this was a bad idea and we should head for the yacht club and attempt our 20 min row, in our flimsy row-boat against some rather scary looking waves,back to the yacht mooring 150 ms out.

Hair raising experiences...

It started out as one pleasant, very calm evening, where after dinner and a game of chess, I was standing watch from 12 till 3am. The sea was in a condition 5 (on a scale of 1 to 12, 12 being the worst-Hurricane) and the winds were hitting about 17-20 knots. I had had a couple of sessions at the helm (the steering wheel- for the non sailors), so I was feeling more confident and doing it solo. The gennaker (smaller sail than a spinnaker) was out so you have to be quite wary and keep on your toes. The pressure dropped to about 1011Bar and the wind started to pick-up along with the sea, so the nerves were being pushed to their limit. I was doing the usual 360 degree look out keeping an eye out for squawls (if you don't know what these are watch Kevin Kostner in "white Squawl", brilliant. Its where a strong gust of wind that picks some spray up of the ocean and this increases the force of the wind.), but you have to keep look out while manning the helm so its quite tough. Basically it came out of the north east, blind spot, I didn't see it as the moon disappeared behind the clouds at this point. The squawl took the wind speed quickly up to 30 knots. The power is one thing but the angle at which it hits,is the real problem. It collapsed the sail in a flash and then re-opened her with such a force it put a small tear in her, about 10 cms long. However at those wind speeds the tear suddenly transforms one sail into two and before I knew what had happened, the sails and lines were flapping out of control on our bows. Yay. So I have to bang on the skippers cabin and then run up to the front of the boat (bow) and attempt to get these under control. Little bit daunting with the knowledge that if you fall over the 2 foot flimsy life rails you probably going to visit Neptune, as the odds of finding you again are rather slim in those seas.

We have Arrived, woohoo..

Call off the coast guard, we're here, just in time for the cricket "mon"! Its been an epic trip, fill of ups and downs (teehee quite literally on the swells), but after 5000 naudical miles, 30 ships, 1 torn spinniker, 100's of dolphins, two gale force storms, 4 paintings, a couple of afternoon siestas, various game fish(including a rather large sail fish), a couple of pilot whales and a turtle, we find ourselves on the shores of the other great Southern continent or an island just off it, where the name Brian Charles Lara is that of a god - Trinidad. While the Atlantic is not the largest ocean in the world and Ellen Macarthur described it as the calmest of the three oceans, but it is still the longest, stretching from pole to pole and what does she know anyway. I've put on some of the experiences that I would love to share with you all.