About this Book
Knowing there are many books describing the sailing experience,
I have focused this book on the impressions and feelings of the first mate
to a circumnavigation that starts out with my misgivings and doubts about
such a new and challenging adventure to a journey affirming discovery six
years later.
Technical knowledge of sailing will not be found
here. It is replaced with my discovery of the common thread weaving through
the cultures I never knew before.Studying our nautical charts, my husband,Don
and I realize the oceans are dotted with small islands acting as stepping
stones to hopscotch our way to new discoveries.
We have our sights on a unique spot in the
middle of the South Pacific Ocean. The chart’s only notation to this place
is a ‘hazard to navigation’. At daybreak we see the waves breaking along
a reef, no land is visible. An undersea mount rises just scratching the
ocean’s surface to create Minerva Reef. At high tide there is no evidence
of its dangerous presence - a formula for countless ship wrecks. Here,
at this fragile refuge we experience the unusual phenomenon of anchoring
in the middle of the ocean where the distant horizon spins one continuous
line for 360 degrees.
Winds turn favorable for a ‘peach of a reach’ as
we sail towards the harbor at Suva,Fiji. New customs, new ceremonies, firewalkers
and the sevu-sevu ritual reveal this country’s uniqueness. Continuing into
our second year with 10,000 miles having streamed under our hull, we are
introduced to more new cultures. Sailing North across the equator, a necklace
of tiny countries stretching 2400 miles, define a line north of this noble
marker, five countries comprising Micronesia.
Sailing on to the tiny atoll, West Fayu, we find
we are all alone, no one lives here. We chafe through the two anchor lines
at night and drift towards the reef. Awakened by that ominous thud, we
scramble for our lives. With a day of fast heart beats and lots of sweat
we haul ourselves to safety. Lessons learned do bring confidence that challenges
can be met without panic or fear.
The lagoon at Truk provides spectacular diving on
sunken Japanese warships sunk during World War ll. Another small island
country,Yap, displays stone money, huge donut shaped stones resting in
the yards along dusty paths. We find the voyaging navigators whose reputation
for using the stars, wave patterns and birds to sail great distances, are
generous with their hospitality as well,when we drop our anchor in their
lagoon at Pulawat. A year sailing between these cultures as they strive
to stay true to their rich history, blesses our voyage with images that
will last a lifetime.
A marked contrast to these island cultures awaits
us as we sail into the bustling Hong Kong harbor. Skyscrapers, airplanes
and freighters have not been a part of our horizon these last two years.
Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand spill their treasures of ancient histories
while they offer architecture, music and attire, simple and elaborate to
fill our senses. We’re immersed in a college course of history, on the
spot.
Chagos Archipelago, 1000 miles south of India answers
the question most often posed, “What is your favorite spot?” No one lives
here, only sailboats find its unspoiled beauty. We remain here for three
months to satisfy those dreams of finding paradise. But then, the food
runs out, we have to move on. Kenya beckons where we bounce about on safaris.Sailing
south along the African coast towards South Africa, we are confronted with
the awesome seas of a ‘buster’. The strong current flooding south along
the coast mounts steep seas as it is challenged by the howling winds blasting
north from the South Pole. Durban at Christmas showers us with snowy blossoms
as we prepare to sail around the Cape of Good Hope with a reputation for
disaster. Instead, the 800 mile voyage finds us on a windless sea with
our two sources for automatic steering not functioning. The first time
in five years we are standing at the helm for a week, day and night, to
navigate the wearisome passage.
The Atlantic Ocean stretches before us, one more
ocean and we are home. Misgivings that filled those beginning views gradually
faded from my journals, replaced with a new way to look at this world of
ours. My experience as a sailor with an appreciation of the revealed
beauty of our world has found expression in this book. With this background,
I desire sharing these dynamics with a reading audience that not only enjoys
a sea story but the poetry of such a journey.
From the Book
Following are two portions from Beyond the Realms of Morning.
First, my early doubts:-
‘We haul the anchor before dawn. Unlike any college course
I’ve ever taken, I am about to embark on a curriculum that doesn’t allow
auditing or dropout. My education is about to unfold with ‘learn as you
go’ requirements. As I sit here on the bow of our sailboat we’ve christened
Horizon and look ahead, contemplating this circumnavigation, I see no horizon.
The blue of the Pacific Ocean has merged with the azure sky - there is
no visible line, its truly a study in shades of blue. Stretching back I
look overhead to see the brilliant blue sky holds a translucent dimension
that expands to that invisible horizon where it reaches to grasp a cobalt
blue plunging to depths beyond my comprehension. Remembering the events
and thoughts that composed the beginning of our voyage, I find they are
much like this view with no horizon visible. The dreams Don had of such
a journey were more defined than those I held. Perhaps I can muster the
same enthusiasm, But somehow the expanse of water offering little protection
or help from any neighbor makes me reluctant to hoist my sail on his dream.’
Now jumping forward five years later:-
‘Just a phone call and we have our custom
clearance into Miami, the fastest and easiest clearance in years. We are
trying to realize we have done it, we have completed this journey of our
lifetime. A journey of 30.000 miles that has registered a new awareness
about my place on the planet. Misgivings that filled those beginning views
stretching West from Panama gradually were missing from my logs and journals,
replaced each day with a new way to look at the world.
Our chart is inscribed with each day’s noon position
and the miles traveled. Just curious, one day, I retrieve the charts outlining
our passage these five years. The spool of thread that unwinds across the
charts seems to weave into this tapestry of mine the colors and hues of
people, places and moments that are mine alone to treasure. Charts . .
places . . people . . happenings . . penciled on my chart. It is an emotional
experience not clearly defined with words. Our small barque, with no sense
of urgency,was content to claim the speed of a butterfly, satisfied to
drift across the ocean until land came home to us once more.’
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