Day 3 - Storm Runners

We shoved off from Warai about 6am, my stomach in my throat again, adrenaline rushing, every bit of me asking how I got myself into this. Prior to launching we'd talked a bit with some of the younger folks who came out to help, asking them some more about the weather. One valuable piece of information they mentioned was that when you see the clouds off in the distance upwind of where we're at start to look like the smoke of a fire, black, with rain, the weather is about to get bad. Some more discussion about the current conditions ensued and we felt pretty good about giving a try to cross the reefs at a closer point than where they had recommended yesterday. It would still be rough but things were pretty mellow this morning. The breakers weren't nearly as bad as yesterday when we'd come in. Two guys offered their help to show us where exactly would be good and help us time the waves. One went out on his canoe to lead us. The other sat on the aft deck of Shan Skailyn with us to help us paddle out there... I think he mostly just wanted to see what it was like to be on this canoe because he'd been talking about coming along with us since yesterday afternoon.

The first set of reef was easy because the outermost reefs break quite a bit of the force of the waves, making the inner layer of reef not so extreme. We just cruised over those because they were so tame at that time in the morning. Yesterday afternoon they'd been much bigger. But the outer reef was definitely going to take a bit more effort. I found the canoe nearly impossible to steer with the Chad, Sesi and myself, plus this other guy sitting on the aft deck. Once we approached the outer reef, I indicated that I can't point the canoe properly with him sitting there and that we'd need him to hop in his buddies canoe before we head out over the waves. Besides I was suspecting that had he continued with us beyond the breakers he would have said there's no way for him to get back to his buddies canoe and insisted that he had to continue with us. This was something we'd talked about before. While the idea seems harmless, the repercussions, should something horrible happen to us and this guy get hurt or killed, would likely end our ability to live in this country. If he was hurt or killed the pay back system here would kick in. If we weren't immediately found and lynched, we would be pursued long and hard and would be unable to remain here safely. I felt bad enforcing the issue, but we made sure that he got off the boat and into his buddies canoe before we made the attempt to cross the breakers.

We got lined up in the right place, watching the waves break right in front of us. The whole time I was working the steering oar (which, by the way, quickly became my best friend when finer, immediate manipulations of Shan Skailyn's position were needed) and Sesi and Chad were holding us in place with the use of the paddles. The traditional outrigger canoe with our guides floated parallel to us nearby on our port side. We started watching the waves for patterns, looking for when it looked like a series of smaller ones might be coming. The guys kept saying to wait... wait... wait... wait. It was kind of scary to see such big waves breaking just there in front of us, coming our way. But they invariably fizzled to mere swells after the reef, by the time they reached us. After waiting and watching a bit they suddenly shouted loudly to go go go go go! We pulled with all we had, quickly broke through the waves and were on the other side within a minute or two. The whole thing was rather anticlimactic actually, what with all the build up and fear that was worked up about it. Wasn't too bad. Very little water even broke over the bow or gunwales. Good! All in all, getting past those breakers took us about a 1/2 hour.

We paddled out a little, looking back with fondness on the beach and village we'd just left. On the surface it really does look idyllic with simple huts built right up to the beach, the sound of the waves constantly in the background as they wash up over the black sand. Coconut palms in such abundance their little tufts of foliage work together to provide a bit of shade, which is finished off by by the other lower growing trees around. The beach is nestled perfectly between some rocky reef type outcropping and some rocks and fallen trees on the other side. It was a nice place to go, be friends, and rest.

One little side detail I neglected to mention was that there is a wrecked Japanese submarine right off the beach of Warai. Standing on the beach the day we arrived, just enjoying looking out at the ocean, I first spotted the black stationary piece that peeked out from among the breakers here and there. I asked some kids that were there with me and they said it was a submarine. Knowing better, I thought they must have had their imaginations fed by something or were playing games with me. I asked if that's what it really was. "A submarine!" they said. Maybe they just didn't really know what that was, so I asked some other questions about what it looked like, knowing they'd be familiar with it's shape since they swim on the reef out there when it's calm. A few older men came by and I asked them, still not ready to believe that was a submarine. They all concurred and told me the story that the rocky outcropping there next to their village was fortified by US forces in WWII. A Japanese sub apparently came into the shallower waters between the layers of reef, was fired upon and somehow got stuck on the innermost reef. Very interesting. They actually had a long piece of metal something or other from whatever was out there being made use of in the middle of the village.

So we pulled away from Warai that morning, relieved to have gotten past the breakers. Only a little ways out and the Taleo Wind picked up so we set the sail and began tacking into it. Today's track angled out south away from the wind just a little bit more than yesterday. Because of this, and because we decided to avoid tracking into and around the bay area that opened up after Warai, we found ourselves doing only the occasional port tack to move out away from the coast. Other than that the day was mostly on a starboard tack, but still close hauled enough into the wind that we weren't flying by any stretch of the imagination. I wanted to check the gps to see how we were doing speed wise. I'd turned it on before we left and now it wasn't on. Pushing the power button didn't produce anything. There was water in the screen! It was toast! We were now without a gps. I'd attached it to my life vest before we took off. It seems when I was in the water during the launch, this supposedly waterproof gps took on water. Watch out for those Garmin GPSmap 62s units. Who makes a gps that isn't waterproof anyway? Seems a silly thing... especially for Garmin. OK, there's my warning to potential buyers. Garmin left us hanging when we really needed it.

As a team we really began to feel this day that we were falling into a good rhythm. Each of us kind of slipped into a role on Shan Skailyn; Chad sat in the aft seat and manned the sheets. When the wind wasn't very strong he'd cam the sheet, and break out his paddle, as would Sesi. With the sail raised, pointing into the wind, the added paddle power created enough of our own wind that we'd actually begin to make real good time with minimal effort. We did this quite a few times on the trip. Sesi sat just forward of the middle. He would tend the sails, tightening the luff when needed, brailing, de-brailing, raising and letting down the mast, any of those things which seemed to need attention through the day. Sesi also paddled. I sat in the middle, and took on the job of steering, using the rudder when under wind power and the steering oar in almost all other situations. There were very few times when we could track straight with all of us paddling. The drag of the ama likes to pull us to port. So someone always had to be steering. Since the rudder creates constant drag, mitigating our precious paddle power, I figured the better tool was the steering oar which could be dipped and pulled in a rhythm with the paddlers with minimal drag. Sesi and I were also the balast. Chad, sitting on the aft seat had little he could do to help with balast, which wasn't really needed anyway since between Sesi and myself we usually found that we were already over-ballasting because of our fear of capsizing. As a team though we were beginning to work well together, learning to trust each other's decisions that are critical to our well-being, learning to communicate and keep each other on our toes. We'd be able to spot, looking at the water ahead, that there was a change in the wind speed, we'd talk about being ready with the sheet and rudder and to shift ballast... it was working well... feeling good out there! But don't let that fool you into thinking we were some fine tuned sailing vessel out there. The fact is we were still unaware of many factors that would help us. Lots of things we'd continue to learn to do better over the days. One of those things we'd need to be more attuned to was nearly upon us.

We'd just passed Lamtub School. Our next goal was to round the next little point with long reef jutting out away from it which, once passed would bring us to Lamtub. We'd seen storm clouds out on the horizon, clearly a rainstorm. It fit all the description of what we'd been warned to look for earlier; like smoke from a fire. What we didn't know was how soon it would hit us. We figured it would be easy to get past this point before the storm hit so we went for it. But by the time we were just before the point, the wind was picking up. Most of the problem with these storms is that they seem to be preceded by a big troublesome wind. Once the storm hits, things settle down in the rain... at least that was our experience quite a number of times. So we were on a starboard tack which was just barely going to get us past the outside of the reef. It was sketchy at best, but we'd decided to go for it despite the strong wind and bigger waves at this point. Then right there in front of the reef and all those big breakers the wind picked up hard, starting to bury the ama deeply. Chad sheeted out and I turned into the wind too hard. I had been hiked out on the starboard (non-ama side). I didn't quite have this depowering procedure worked out in my mind when I did it. I just knew to turn into the wind. Yes, I'd thought about it before, but thinking and doing are two very different things when pressed to perform quickly under stress. I only did half of what was needed and too much of it, turning the boat all the way into the wind, depowering the sail, but remaining in the hiking seat. Physics show no mercy when one forgets about the principles of ballast. With the wind no longer pressing us to port, and my full ballest still on the starboard side, the boat nearly capsized. I managed to jump to the other side, noted that Sesi was still onboard, then noticed that Chad was in the water, the distance between us growing. With the sail now luffing, and the wind and waves threatening to drive us to those breakers, we paddled to close the gap between us and Chad. Chad is quite the manly man and is unfazed to be overboard and took the whole thing well. It wasn't long before he was back on board and we quickly set the sail and ran before the wind, back tracking to a beach just prior to the breakers to escape the worsening weather. This was the beach we SHOULD HAVE gone to instead of foolishly taking our chances with the storm. Lesson partially learned. It would take one more for the truth of it to sink in. When you see a storm a comin' you got about 20 minutes... maybe half and hour... to find a place, or otherwise brave the weather; every time. I rather enjoy consistent rules like that, though going through life looking for more rules to follow always gets us in trouble, there are times when the unknowns abound that a cold hard rule gives comfort.

The beach we landed on was a steep, lone white sand beach plateauing into dense jungle foliage. The breakers were big and breaking only right up on the beach. We managed with our little routine of brailing the sail, approaching under paddle and oar control, Chad jumping out first and holding that safety rope to brake and help keep the hull perpendicular to the beach, a little more oar steering and me jumping out holding the aft iako braking and then finally Sesi jumping out almost nearly on the beach. Smooth for how rough things were. We used the waves to move Shan Skailyn up high and then tied him off. As usual after each landing, I grabbed my phone out of it's watertight tennis ball saver canister and called my woman to let her know where we're at and that we're doing well.

Nobody was around on this beach, but after a little while a single, more aged gentleman came up the beach having walked from where we had just failed to go. He spent some time with us, got a few 'kulau' coconuts for us to drink, offered some raw peanuts and we storied about various things, but mostly the weather, this beautiful place, and what brought us to this beach. Up high on the bank were some trees, the branches twisting here and there with seemingly more horizontal than vertical... good places to sit in the shade. We took shelter from the sun for a bit while we storied. A while later two young men came from the other direction, Lamtub School. One carried a strange homemade device with some D size batteries nestled in it and two bent metal prongs on one end looking like two metallic curled fingers. It was his solution for charging his cell phone battery, which he always carried around without the battery cover on. We all talked a bit more before the older gentleman feigned concern about the strength of my ama struts. Getting me away from the others who were still sitting in the shade we walked over to the boat, he kneeled down by the ama so as to appear to ask me about the part of Shan Skailyn in question. He pointed his finger at the strut and told me in a lowered serious tone that he needed me to listen to him. He said "You should not stay here. After the rain comes, you should go. Watch your things very carefully and watch yourselves. One of those guys here with you is a trouble maker. He'll take your stuff as soon as he can. You need to get yourselves and your boat out of here this afternoon after the rain." Hmmmm, so much for soaking in the beauty of the place. Now, every move these younger guys made was going to be carefully watched. We concluded the charade and then headed back to the shelter of the trees as it finally began to rain. After a while, the old man said that he had to go, but to remember what he'd told me. I thanked him for the advice, the kulau and the peanuts.

After our gray haired friend, whose name I can't remember, walked off down the beach we spent some time with our two younger friends, perfectly nice fellas. We kept the social activity away from the boat just to be sure. After nearly an hour and a half on that beach, the wind, the rain and the waves subsided and it was time to shove out again. We elicited the help of our friends and moved Shan Skailyn out, stern first, into the water, figuring it would be easier than turning him around on the beach. Shan Skailyn's stern and bow are identical in shape so it's always an option to just paddle him the other way if needed. It was particularly hard pushing through those breakers with how big they still were and how they were breaking only right there on the steep beach. There wasn't a lot of room to shove off because almost as soon as you got in the water it was deep enough to not have any footing. As a result we took on a lot of water that had broken mostly over the stern-turned-bow. But once we were out the weather was good, breeze was light but definitely enough and so we turned our craft around, set sail and headed on out, finally making it past that pesky reef.

Going on only about a kilometer or two we saw a stretch of coastline about 2 km long with nothing but jagged black coral type rock. We evaluated the weather before committing to move past it. Things looked good, except off in the distance the clouds did look a bit ominous. Not as obvious as the storm we'd seen before, so we decided to go for it. Just barely into this stretch of rocky convert-your-boat-to-toothpicks zone those not so obvious clouds became obvious. A storm was definitely heading our way. We knew we didn't have long to finish this, but the winds weren't such that we could move very fast. We'd found earlier that while under sail in light winds, if we added some paddle power, it would give us just enough speed to create our own wind, picking up much more speed with minimal effort, and with the added benefit of being able to turn into the wind a bit more. Both these benefits are what we needed bad right now. Our current tack, close hauled starboard, was just enough to keep us moving right up that coast, but was ever so slowly bringing us closer to those rocks. Being able to turn into the wind a bit more would maybe prevent us from having to spend more time tacking. What we really wanted to do was get beyond the danger of these rocks before the storm hit. But it was not to be. We were getting too close for comfort so we tacked out a little ways before resuming our progress in the race against the storm.

20 minutes went by and we still weren't done with those rocks. The end was in sight, but it was going to be a bit. The wind was getting stronger now, waves nearly parallel to the boat, meeting it's hull on the starboard side with big slaps, sending lots of water over the gunwale and shoving Shan Skailyn off tack considerably. With the stiffer wind we were able to turn into the wind enough to cut through the waves a bit more, but still had to do a lot of steering to make it all work. The wind continued getting stronger and we were getting nervous.

For the steering I'd discovered that fixing my eye on a point on land and focusing on keeping the boat pointing at it was effective for being able to discern steering corrections. Watching that point and only that point would allow me to better sense what the waves and wind were doing to our little craft so that I could do what was necessary to keep him on track. I did that here, and noticed with the waves hitting us the way they were, I had to constantly turn into the wave and wind just prior to wave impact, then back away as soon as we crested, then once nearly at the bottom again turn into the wave again and then back away at the crest, and on and on we went. This was able to maintain a pretty good course minimizing the effect of the waves which otherwise had been hitting the bow and turning us hard out from the wind.

Now the wind was getting just plain scary, the waves driving us higher and lower. Whitecaps were all around. Big waves, probably 6' to 8' (again, it's hard to be objective here... just a guess) and we needed to get past that final rocky point. Once again, Sesi and I had to hike out on the starboard side quite a bit to keep the ama from burying in our now speedy race against the storm. It was clear at this point we'd lost the race. Now we just needed to do what we could to finish safely. If I hadn't read somewhere that the safest craft to be on when the conditions are nasty is one under sail power; not drifting, not motor power, but sail power... If I'd not read that I think my instinct may have been in these situations to drop the sail for safety. But as it has it, keeping the sail up seems to be the way to go, just either point into the wind, or let that sheet out nicely to make it more manageable (or if you're bright enough, which clearly we are not, then reef the sail before the bad stuff hits). Easier said than done, but I can't imagine what it would have been like had we decided to drop sail in times like these. It probably would have ended much differently.

So nearly at the end of the rocky section we spotted a nice white line of beach in the distance on the far side of a small bay. We made straight for it moving quickly, still on our starboard tack. Going going going, my eye fixed on a point just upwind on the beach to compensate for the little bit of lee movement we're surely making. The beach was getting achingly closer as the storm blew harder and we just couldn't wait to get to safety. I reminded myself that God's greatness and love is bigger and trumps all this. Here is where my spirit rests and can focus on the job at hand rather than panic. Doesn't necessarily mean I'm physically safe... just means there's something bigger, better, not random, not chaotic. Whether I live or die the result is the same; gratitude, rest, contentment. The rain was falling now. Still longing for that beach to be landed upon, and then Sesi pointed out that he saw some people on a beach in another section of the bay. He thought it would be better to go where people are at. We gave it a few seconds of thought and decided he was right. So I warned Chad to be ready with the sheet as we turned out, which would increase the force of the wind on that sail if not sheeted out. We turned to port, now running before the wind over the starboard quarter. The wind was strong enough and we were aligned with the movement of the waves so that we started really flying. That beach was going to be upon us quicker than we'd be ready if we didn't work things out right! We brailed the sail in preparation for our landing routine. However, in a momentary lapse, I forgot to shift my weight back to the hull as the sail was brailed. We almost capsized as we approached the beach... not a good place to capsize. We'd probably be OK, but I could imagine the canoe would be quite damaged as the waves washed the capsized craft onto the beach. I managed to jump out of the starboard hiking seat again, keeping from a full capsize. But we lost Chad again! We were close enough to shore that he yelled to keep going with the landing. So we enacted our routine, minus Chad on the rope. After landing we immediately checked to verify that Chad was indeed making his way safely ashore. No problem.

Our first quick conversation amongst ourselves consisted of reveling in just how unbelievable that was, what we just came through. Our hearts still racing, we thought it apt to dub ourselves 'Storm Runners' since we got caught twice in that predicament today.

After about a half hour of us winding down, telling the good size crowd who had gathered to watch us what we'd just gone through and finding out that we were now at a place called Badet, the rain died down and I wanted to call Shannon again to let her know where we were at and that we were safe. It was now late enough in the afternoon that we were probably going to stay here the night. The folks told me I'd have to walk out to the point at the end of the bay to get a signal. Someone offered to show me the way so I followed him. As we went along talking, I found out that this particular gentleman had been to Mibu where we live back in 2009. He'd heard somehow of how the Mibu people have come to know Jesus. He wanted to check it out and let them know that he thought this same talk needed to be brought to his village. So he hiked up there and interestingly found himself staying at Sesi's house! Small world divinely orchestrated! Still on our way to the point with digicel network coverage we crossed that white beach we'd been making a mad run for when the whether turned foul. Nice beach. But I noticed that just under the water along the whole beach were many many sharp rocks. Deceptively dangerous! I imagined what would have happened had we continued on for that beach. Again, just seeing God's hand at work despite our total ignorance. Wow!

After my phone call, we went back and finished preparations for leaving it for the night, removing all gear, bailing out and drying any water in the hull, covering the canoe with the tarp. Oh, I've not mentioned yet that I cut a special tarp to fit Shan Skailyn. The purpose is several fold. For one, it keeps the rain out at night. But also it makes it a bit less tempting for prying eyes. And then finally, if we ever did land on a beach with no people around, then we could camp out under the tarp's cover in the rain. Mozzie nets and bug spray would help us battle the malaria and dengue carrying mozzies and also those nasty sand fleas. Turns out we never needed it for sleeping. But we were always thankful to be able to cover the boat. Once covered, people weren't nearly as likely to stand around in a crowd around the thing. That's when little things tend to go missing, unless you're standing guard the whole time.

We were now in the Kolom language area. One's language here is called their 'tokples' in Pidgin. So we were in the Kolom tokples, planning on staying the night in Badet, about 34 kilometers from our originating point of Wab. Badet is located right at the mouth of the Batedya river which pours small and clear into the breakers we'd just come through. We'd hoped to be much further by this point in time, but had to remember that we were still at the sharp end of the learning curve. Each day ought to get better as we learn more how to handle the Shan. I missed my family greatly and the thought of each day covering significantly less distance than we'd like made me sorry I'd decided to do this trip with no way out. I didn't want my wife to be stuck in the tough status of single mother of 4 children any longer than needed. I began thinking that at day 5 or 6 we would probably need to find alternative (ie. QUICKER) ways to get Shan Skailyn to Madang. This seed planted in my brain rooted and sprouted over the next day or two, thankfully never coming to fruition.

I find myself wishing we had more objective data about things such as our tacking angles, top speed, etc. We miss having the gps. But I find at times like these that being weaned from technology has it's advantages. Measurements of speed cease to be so important simply because it's not an option. So rather I find myself contended to feel the boat moving... just moving good. Fast, slow, easy going, thrilling, whatever... those become my graduations; and that on a scale of satisfaction rather than the hard cold objective scale of speed. It's nice. It's gratifying to be on this thing that I'd labored so hard on, had so many doubts and questions about, and just feel it move and work the way it's supposed to! To be honest, a lot of it is that I still can't believe this boat works!

So once we got Shan Skailyn prepped for the night, we walked the little ways to the nearby village for the standard wash, get settled in, story, eat, eat and more eating. For some reason, even though we plan on getting up early in the morning, we keep finding ourselves staying up far too late at night. Perhaps it's the pleasant company of our hosts. How else do completely exhausted people continue up chatting until 11 or 12am when they know they have to get up for another round of butt whooping the next day? Once again, we were just treated so well by the folks at Badet. They didn't have to feed, house, or do anything for these strangers that washed up on their beach. But they did and they did so quite happily.

This day was really good for us as far as learning. We figured out some principles... though putting all the pieces together in order to see those principles in action are another thing... but we learned some principles especially regarding the importance of ama drag. It's a real killer. Doesn't matter what tack you're on. You need to be thinking about how to get that ama so it's not pressing too hard (or at all if you're really good) into the water. On a port tack, too much ballast (in our case, over compensation due to fear) equals more drag, equals strong weather helm, equals unnecessary rudder correction... and all that equals a really inefficient use of the boat, not to mention the frustration of constantly finding your sail starting to luff every time you start to gain a little bit of speed. The simple act of being more sensitive and active with your ballast can make a huge difference in performance. Same with the starboard tack. On the starboard tack you don't want to try to make yourself feel good by thinking that the ama makes that tack less likely to capsize. You get lazy with your ballast. You still want to ballast to get that ama just on the surface of the waves. When the ama is pressed too hard you have strong lee helm, which equals stronger forces from the wind if you're not watching your sheet, which equals even more lee helm from even more ama drag (it's a quickly perpetuating disaster if you don't look out for it). So the temptation is to correct with the rudder. Again, very inefficient, lots of overall drag, frustrating and difficult to maintain your tack. Better to hike out enough that the ama is just on the water surface as much as is possible. I found hiking out a bit more, made us go faster, point higher into the wind, and tack straighter! Now, I've got all those things rattling around in my head, a magic formula as it were for sailing nirvana... at least for our purposes... yet accomplishing this every time is difficult. But we'd had glimpses of it today. A good encouraging day! Oh, and one other thing I personally struggle with is keeping my cool when things get hairy. As soon as I get panicky, I make stupid decisions. I find I have a conscious struggle to maintain a cool head when I am out of my league. It's the only way for me to continue to think straight and put pieces together rightly. Chad was an inspiration in this area, watching him and having to decide, either this guy is really naive about what we're into, or he's just coolly processing what he needs to do. Consistently the evidence points to the latter.

Interlude

I've been working away on Day 3 here... packing up to end our vacation and head up to the highlands has made it difficult to finish a thought.

However, today my awesome wife gave me a birthday card with this really great little poem. I thought it was definitely Shan-Skailyn-worthy! To be sung to the familiar tune of Popeye. What a woman!

He's Geoffrey the sailor man
He came up with a big plan
He wanted to sail
And he wouldn't fail
He's Geoffrey the sailor man

He read lots of sailing books
He got lots of funny looks
But he built a sailboat
He hoped that it would float
He's Geoffrey the sailor man

He sailed it for one long week
He hoped that it wouldn't leak
He proved to be real brave
As he fought every wave
He's Geoffrey the sailor man

He saw lots of beachy shores
He got lots of nasty sores
He got an infection
It left an impression
With Geoffrey the sailor man

He has an amazing story
To God he gives all the glory
For bringing him home safe
Even tho his butt's chafed
He's Geoffrey the sailor man

Day 2 - First Day of Progress

Woke up this morning about 5 am and started getting ready. For breakfast we just grabbed a few handfuls of trail mix to get us by. I'm sure folks would have been more than happy to feed us, but I wouldn't want to ask, and waiting for them to do it in their time would mean that we would wait several more hours. Besides, many of the folks who go out in their canoes just tough it out and go on an empty stomach, bringing food with them to eat later.

The boat was ready to launch at about 6:40. We'd removed all the cargo, paddles, and other stuff that could easily walk, and stashed it at Gadip's house. It took a while to get it all back in place. By the time we were ready to launch about 4 or 5 younger guys came out to help. It was raining but they said that's not a problem as far as the sea is concerned. The rain brings calm waters. It's wind that comes before and during the first part of the rain that really makes things difficult. After that it all settles down even if the rain continues. We found this to be consistently true throughout the trip. There was also no wind so we set out paddling or 'pulim' (pulling) as it is referred to in pidgin. The paddle is aptly called, you guessed it, a 'pul'.

You may be wondering about my references to the Pidgin English language. Papua New Guinea is one of the most linguistically and culturally diverse countries in the world. A country about the size of California, and having over 850 different language groups crammed in has developed over the years a simple trade language called Pidgin English. It allows those who interact within the language groups to communicate with each other. When we are in Mibu, where we live and work, we speak their mother-tongue. But when we're outside of their language area, we use pidgin trade language because their language is different. To give an idea of how diverse the language and cultures are here, in the 90 mile maiden voyage we just took, we encountered no less than 13 different language groups. A couple of them were so small that we skipped right over them without even realizing it!

So we pulled our way up to the point preceding Biliau, about 8km before getting enough wind to make use of. Our gps showed that pulling was giving us an average speed of about 3 mph. We set the sail and began working up to round the Biliau point, called Cape Iris. This point is surrounded by reef and big waves you can see crashing from a long way away. We heard there was a good 'basis' (opening in the reef) here, but from afar it didn't look like there was any. Besides, it was early enough in the day and the weather was still looking good enough that we thought it would be no problem to pass by Biliau altogether and find a place up the coast more to set down for the evening. We didn't want to go anywhere near those big waves! We were a bit nervous though about committing to this plan because our map showed that there is a double layer of reef extending another 6 or 7 km beyond. Our fears proved worth paying attention to as the winds and sea were getting harder to manage.

By the time the conditions were rough enough to really scare us, we found what looked to be a decent landing spot. So we went in, crossing quickly over the double layer of reef and it's breakers... honestly I have no clue how in the world we made it past these. We were clueless and just did it and it went fine. One of those spots where God's hand was in it. We began the approach to the beach, just about to raise the sail, when we realized that there were too many rocks around to be comfortable landing here, we quickly decided to tack back out and look for another spot. Crossed over the reefs and breakers again without incident. We went up a little bit more, feeling pretty scared that we weren't going to be able to land and would capsize out by the reef.

Not far away though we found another beach, crossed the breakers again and headed in fast and hard... too fast, in fact. We raised the sail too late, approaching the beach running before the wind as it blew over the starboard quarter. We weren't in good control of the boat for a landing. Remember, this was going to be our first landing ever. We were turned too far to starboard and I was afraid the ama was going to hit the beach... not good. Then I felt the whole boat lift high, the ama burying down deep as simultaneously a wave lifted the main hull high and a gust of wind pushed hard on the sail. Almost pitch poled! I shouted for Sesi to quickly brail the sail. Chad jumped out, grabbed the rope we had been dragging behind braking our approach while helping point Shan Skailyn in better toward the beach. We'd been dragging that rope behind us in case someone went overboard. Double duty. A couple deft strokes with the steering oar to kick the aft of the canoe over to starboard and I too jumped out into the water to help brake before we hit that beach. The whole thing was not thought out nor executed well. But we landed safely without slamming the boat into anything. After this we had a much better plan we found ourselves enacting with each landing, making for safer, relatively stress free landings the rest of the trip. Each one was a learning experience though.

There was a woman with two small children on the beach. Her unusually bright red dress made her easy to spot from a ways out. She'd watched us come in. She stared from a distance after we landed, clearly not sure what to do about our presence. She was tentative about doing anything and was slowly putting distance between her and us. I called out and asked if there was a village nearby and anyone who would mind helping us out. Didn't take long to figure we weren't fitting whatever fear she had about us and she became friendly and started telling us about her village just up the way a bit. Just a few more minutes produced some young men who came to see this craft not fitting their categories that had just landed on their beach. We told them how we just had to land because things were getting nasty out there and we were scared we were going to die. They said they had seen us out there and were afraid for our lives being in that kind of weather and trying to come in over the reef. And it turns out we'd missed the good 'basis' altogether and just plowed through the reefy areas, areas that they would never venture through in their canoes. Looking back, it didn't look possible that we'd made it through those. It was stupid for us to blast through those like that. Big waves constantly breaking over two layers of reef. You may make it over one, only to find yourself on top of another just a few minutes later. Wow! We probably should have had disaster befall us.

They recommended shoving the boat back out and moving it up to their village about 5 minutes up. We agreed and manually moved Shan Skailyn up the waters edge. A few of them got out there with us and helped. We fought the waves which threatened to push us into the rocks and fallen trees we were passing on the way to their village, but overall it wasn't a difficult move. Once at their village we hauled the boat way up high past where the high tide would later bring the water. We found out the name of the place is called Warai. We were there for the rest of the afternoon and the night. Only a small window of decent weather opened up after our arrival, but it would not have been enough to carry us far before getting into trouble with more winds that followed. Plus we were still a bit unnerved from the day's earlier excitement.

We were immediately asked if we wanted to wash up, apparently a standard practice for someone who's been on the sea. You come in, wash up 'so your skin can get warm' and then you eat. A wash in a nice cool stream sounded pretty nice, so after removing all our gear from the canoe and placing it in our host's house we walked back inland a bit and were shown an appropriate place to wash. Encounters with whiteskins aren't super frequent, but have happened enough that we are stereotyped as not liking their food. They weren't sure what to feed us, but we assured them that whatever they are offering we'll eat all of it. Sesi chimed in too, affirming and telling stories of how I usually finish all the food served me in Mibu. They asked if we would be OK with sak sak, which is processed sago palm. When we excitedly accepted, they brought out a big bowl of fried bananas and fried sak sak cakes. Everything was lightly salted and so stinking delicious! We polished it all off. We continued to sit and story about our day's adventure and also trying to glean their wisdom about the sea. They said that the only good 'basis' or opening in the reef was quite a ways back where we'd come from. And then beyond them, where we were headed the reef continued on for quite a ways as the map confirmed. Once we were outside of that double layer of reef in the morning, we wanted to stay outside of it until we were beyond it. How in the world were we going to get past it anyway? We really didn't want to go all that way back. We talked some more and found out that if the sea is good in the morning that there are a couple closer spots where the waves don't break so big over the reefs.

After talking and asking more questions it turns out that this little village (more of a hamlet really) is comprised of one single family, an old man and his sons and daughters who have houses and families of their own. They clearly prided themselves in the fact that this is a very safe place for strangers, adamantly offering that we certainly don't have to worry about our gear and our stuff here. We were still advised to take quite a bit in the house, but that's just standard in case outsiders wander through.

It was interesting to note that people wandered in from the outlying areas having seen or heard of our strange boat coming in. They came and looked and asked questions and we hung out and talked. All these people are connected and so there were no strangers besides us. Just people coming to see what's going on and enjoying hanging out and talking to the visitors.

After talking a while more food was brought out. Not just skimpy stuff either, but big full servings. Still feeling satisfied from the last meal, I wondered if I'd be able to finish this rice and taro and sweet potato with greens, but I managed to put it all down, glad that I did because I figured we might not eat breakfast again in the morning. After the food, then we were actually served some sweetened instant coffee. Wow! What a treat! Now I'm usually not a big sweets fan, but when I'm traveling and hungry I make all kinds of exceptions. And when Papua New Guineans sweeten their tea or coffee, they REALLY sweeten it! 5 or 6 big spoonfuls of sugar is no surprise, probably more. There is a reason though, it is quite tasty! It was now just about 'tudak' with the sun pretty much set. We were winding down.

Sometime earlier in the afternoon, Chad decided to go off with some fellas who were going to show him how they harvest and process the sak sak (sago palm). He didn't return until after dark, right before I was about to go to bed. He came and sat down on one of the verandas of the huts and was talking to some folks sitting around the fire. I joined him to see how his time went and to just mellow and listen to the conversation. Chad had not eaten since the first round of food (fried sak sak and bananas) 4 o 5 hours ago, and so someone soon was bringing out more food, but not just for him, for me also. Knowing I'd need as much of that nutritional stuff as possible tomorrow I snarfed it down once again. I mentioned my gratefulness for so much food and they responded that we need to 'strongim bel' before we head out in the morning.

One inconsequential thing I noticed while sitting there lazily listening to conversation was that the crabs seem entranced by the fire and can't help but walk into it, sometimes killing themselves in the heat. Isn't that odd?!

Sesi, Chad and I went to bed feeling pretty good about the day and having been able to connect with the people we've encountered so far. They've been so extremely gracious and welcoming and helpful.

Today we'd crossed over the boundaries for 4 different language groups in just about 20 km. They were Wab, Gira, Biliau, and Neko which is the language group within which we stopped for the night at Warai.

Day 1 - Dread, Humility, Elation

The day started with an early and excited rising in anticipation of the helicopter's arrival. The weather was not looking good. I wondered if the pilot would be able to make it in at all. Clouds looked as if they may be thick enough to block passage for the heli. I emailed the weather report with a hesitant "come on in" knowing that I was taking a chance because if the heli comes out and can't make it in, I still pay for it. But today was the day. It had to happen.

The heli arrived and we began getting Shan Skailyn prepared for slinging. The day before, I had filled him with various Mibu goods to take down to the coast both to help feed the Mibu children in school there and also their host families. We also included some food for 'amamas' which is simply to grease the wheels with the landowners for letting us land on their ground. That kind of stuff is a big deal in PNG. You show your appreciation by providing a benefit. But just as important with Shan Skailyn is that its weight for slinging needed to be about 300 kgs.

It took two tries and fine tuning the total weight on the helicopter to finally get Shan Skailyn off the ground in a way that felt safe to the pilot. Turns out 300 kgs was a bit much. The ride to the coast was a SLOW and thus expensive one. Ughhh! The canoe, all bundled up for flight, just would not point forward. Rather it caught the wind in random fashion, swinging around under the helicopter. That was the scariest helicopter ride in my life! It felt very strange to have that thing tugging around different directions slung under the chopper. The pilot clearly had to have all his concentration to make this squirly thing work. We could feel it pulling the helicopter forward, back, and side to side. Looking underneath I could see it swinging around in the wind. Not a safe way to sling things. I tried to prepare my mind and heart for the real possibility that Ray, our pilot may have to drop the whole load to be shattered and lost in the bush below. Ray persevered and we were finally able to land in Wab on a black sandy beach.

Many people awaited us. We'd arranged ahead of time with the landowners to land there and they were very excited about it. In their excitement they did something apparently small, but probably a big deal to them, and that was to put a couple smears of some red stuff on the bow and stern of the boat as well as a couple other places. Being too busy putting it altogether I didn't get a chance to ask what it was for, but I imagine it probably was some kind of ritual 'blessing' they do on their own boats before first launch. Someone told me that they were planning on painting us up a bit as well. I agreed, but was glad that for whatever reason, they ended up not doing it.

The boat was assembled and ready to go at around 10am. Chad, Sesi, and myself talked a bit with some folks just about what they think of the conditions right now. Some said it was alright. Some said that it was too rough. It was hard to discern which was right. The wind was kicking up a bit, the waves quite a bit bigger than when we first arrived, but it didn't look too bad. What did we know?! They wouldn't take their canoes out in that, but they are much smaller, have no sail, and have near neutral buoyancy amas, called 'saman' in the pidgin trade language. The dynamics are different. We made a decision to go ahead with things.

"Is this really happening?" I remember thinking. We had some folks help us carry Shan Skailyn to approach the waves. We set it down and waited for their go ahead as they timed the waves. My heart was racing, my heart pounding in my chest, and my mouth ran dry. I was extremely nervous about this as the idea that we actually have no clue what we're doing finally congealed as the reality of that big dark ocean lay before us. "We have no business being here, doing this!" I thought, but quickly remembered that at this point there was no other choice. The helicopter was gone, there are no roads out here and no other way to get this thing to Madang. Though I was already ready to tuck tail and run, it simply wasn't an option. My fear was interrupted by people shouting 'NOW' and the boat beginning it's very first plunge into the ocean. I remember the flitting thought of how I've never even tested it in water to see that it floats and here we are just jumping in.

A wave broke over the bow spilling into the open compartment, something we would encounter somewhat frequently in the coming days depending on how we shoved out. We jumped in, all of us at once and started paddling like mad. Guessing the breakers were about 4' high so we had to work fast to get past them. We had the mast raised with brailed sail when we set out. After paddling well past the breakers, a strong gust over the port side blew hard on the brailed sail and almost capsized us. Brailed or not, we learned it doesn't take much to knock that thing over if you're not paying attention. We could hear our large audience yelling their excitement from the beach. They probably thought we were crazy. I would have totally agreed.

In the gusty wind we tried to set the sail. I had too much adrenaline pumping to think clearly. The luff was clearly too loose with large folds/wrinkles and so I set about all fumble fingers, almost panicked, trying to right the situation. Harder to do on the water than I imagined. We ended up mastering this after a few more days when it needed to be done, but this time, it was enough and we started moving. Starboard tack? Port tack? I honestly can't remember what we started on, but I do remember the gps said we were moving 0.6-1.0 mph. The wind was strong and gusty and the waves were getting bigger and more threatening. We pushed on for about an hour, the bow frequently up in the air over the tops of waves and then slapping back down or otherwise diving into the next wave. After a while we looked back to see that we'd hardly made any progress. We were barely on the outskirts of Wab bay after all that time. Meanwhile, we were getting tired and feeling like these kinds of conditions were getting unsafe for this virgin crew. We turned, defeated, and cruised the short distance back to the beach where our audience still was. How humiliating. We must look like idiots. So discouraged! Was the whole trip going to be like this? Did we make a mistake in setting out to do this? Very clearly we have no clue what we're doing. These feelings and more set in as the afternoon wore on.

It was arranged for us to stay the night at Gadip's house there in Wab. Gadip is a big haired 'skipa' of a motor dinghy that makes runs back and forth during the week between Wab and Madang. His hair the epitome of Papuan coastals, big, classic... I love it. Gadip was happy to offer his services should we find ourselves in a bind a few days out. I think he was sure that we wouldn't make it. He said he'd be happy to tow us to Madang. It was more than once that the thought of calling him on his digicel and taking him up on his offer crossed my mind as the days unfolded. We were fed a good meal of taro root, sweet potato, cooking bananas and greens with some beans too. After resting a bit, I peeked out of the house and saw that the sea had a nice afternoon calm. I mentioned to the guys that with the weather like this, right now might be a good time to get some sailing experience under our belts. We could just tool around the little bay there and get a feel for unpanicked sailing. We were so glad we did! There was a light breeze and smooth rolling waters. We took Shan Skailyn out again with an audience on the beach, set the sail again and started moving. We were elated to see things working! We may have only been moving a few miles per hour in those light winds, but we felt like we were on top of the world, riding in a wind powered speed boat. We hooted and hollered our excitement out in the bay. Each of us took turns sailing. After a couple hours we'd tried all the different points of sail and felt very satisfied that we'd had at least this little bit of positive experience before we were to head out for the real thing in the morning.

Gadip was full of information about the coast and the weather. Turns out that right now is the season they call 'taleo win' which we heard all along the coast. Taleo is a predominantly south west wind, blowing down the coast... the opposite of where we were going. We were going to be fighting up wind the whole time. Had it been the 'rai win' due in a couple months, things would be better for us, they'd repeatedly remind us. Gadip assured us that early morning is usually very calm and easy and that the winds start to 'kirap' about 9 or 10 in the morning often getting stronger in the afternoon.

We went to bed, encouraged and excited with a bit of raised confidence that we could make this work.

We've Arrived!

After 7 days of some pretty frightful stuff, we've made it to our intended destination just north of Madang! YEAHHHHH!!!! The sight of the homes just inside the little bay we we'd been struggling toward all that time was a huge relief and brought a sense of accomplishment to this tattered crew of three. We departed (or attempted at least... more in the stories to come) on March 1st from Wab, just near Saidor and then meandered up the coast, finally arriving just beyond Madang on the 7th.

We got seriously spanked by some of the conditions out there, but also experienced some really nice weather as well. We took tons of photos and a good number of videos of our journey, only to have our one and only camera snatched by some little thief in the village of Erima, just the day before we arrived. I'm so torn by this because I love communicating with photography and the thought of having to do so now with just words seems disappointing. However, I know our experience out there was extraordinary, unbelievable even and I do enjoy trying to communicate in writing so that will come in time here. But you'll have to bear with me since I have virtually no pictures of the actual trip now. Thankfully our friends and family also took pictures as we sailed into the bay here at our destination point. So we have a teeny something to speak of there.

For now though, a brief summary.

So all three of us are super glad to be back. 6 days on a skinny 24' long outrigger canoe is a long time. If I'd known just how many harrowing experiences the trip would bring I honestly don't think I would have planned to do it. The sea out there can really dish it up! I'm pretty sure that our maiden voyage put Shan Skailyn through about the worst he'll ever see, and he held up very well; strong stormy winds, 6'-10' waves at times (our best estimation - though we recognize fear can exaggerate threatening objects - we have no clue how to measure those beasts anyway) and sometimes no way out except to grit your teeth and pray and find yourself lost in contentment that God's love is bigger and more powerful that this threatening sea no matter what happens. We experienced periods of long glassy still and also adrenaline pumping racing through rough waters and then everything in between. It really was amazing that Shan Skailyn kept through it all... and that we did too! One piece of information I was glad to have read prior to the trip was that being under sail power is the safest way to be under rough conditions. More safe that just bobbing around and more safe than being under motor power. Had I not read that and had some confidence in it's accuracy I think we would have dropped sail at the dangerous points and found ourselves in even more danger! This and many other things like that evidenced God's providential watchfulness over us on this trip!

The very first time we set out, we got our butts kicked by strong winds and huge waves. We clumsily fought and fought and fought in Wab bay for a couple hours that first day, only to make it about a mile out or so. Defeated and humbled and scared, we turned back and headed to shore back at Wab to gather our thoughts. After this experience, nearly every time we pushed out from the beach somewhere the fear was such that I imagined it couldn't be more if I knew I was going before a firing squad for my final moments of life. It was dreadful to make myself just do it. After the first few days, with more confidence in the boat and in the skills God so drastically was working into us, the fear began to subside with each departure. Again though we saw God's hand in that first day in that he prepared us for a nice, light breezy late afternoon on smooth waters. We left our gear in a hut at Wab and decided we were being given a chance to practice in much more favorable conditions. We went out again set our sail and made way, putzing around the bay, back and forth, trying different tacks and points of sail. It was perfect and allowed us to feel what it's like to make use the wind from different directions. Unbeknownst to us, the most important direction would be pointing into the wind, called 'beating into the wind' or being close hauled, pointing as far up into the wind as the sail would handle. It was this point of sail we spent probably 90% of the trip doing. Nearly the whole way, the wind was against us as we worked up around points and in and out of reefs and up long rocky sections of coastline, tacking back and forth and sometimes seeming like we were making very little progress against the wind and tide.

Probably the nastiest thing we experienced sailing wise was when we decided to cross a nine mile section of open water to cross Astrolabe bay. Things were dead calm, smooth water, no wind. We decided even if we just paddled (which we could do about 3-4 miles per hour) it would just take us a few hours at worst. We went out about an hour, the shore further and further behind us. Finally the wind started picking up so we set the sail to make use of it. After going further the wind kept getting stronger and stronger; the sea getting rougher and rougher. Before we knew it, it was way more than we could handle. The wind was howling, big white caps all around us and Sesi and I were hiked all the way out to keep the wind from blowing us over yet we still really struggled to keep Shan Skailyn upright. We pointed into the wind to slow things down, but it was still very scary. It was so strong, and the sail pulled so tight at all the attachment points that we thought for sure it was going to rip the seams. We decided we needed to get out of there and fast, so rather than looking for the best possible place (too far away anyway at this point) we picked the fastest point of sail that would hopefully bring us to a beach. We set the boat to what's called a beam reach with the wind over our starboard (right) side, hiked out far, prayed and hauled you-know-what for the shore, hoping we could keep Shan Skailyn's ama (the outrigger part) from burying or being pushed under water. At that speed, if that happens you risk what's called pitch poling which is the very worst thing you can do to an outrigger sailing canoe. The canoe, sail, crew, everything flips over the end of the ama, landing in a tripod like position (bow, mast head, tip of the ama) in the sea. It almost always does a great deal of damage to boat and crew. The ama did bury quite a few times as we raced along, but we managed to keep pulling out of it as we would just turn into the wind for a moment to depower the sail. Ama back on the surface again, we'd continue on our mad reach for a beach. Chad, the only fearless one on the boat, managed to get a few moments of great video of this run! I really really want that video back! About an hour of this and we did manage to find that beach... just as the storm began to subside. We stopped anyway because that one hour drained us physically and emotionally. Whew!

The people almost all the way up the coast treated us very well. We were hosted and fed well. Spent tons of time talking about their life on the sea, the weather, and just trying to glean knowledge and wisdom from them by which to discern how to carry on our own voyage. Our dependence on their advice became even more necessary after our GPS took on water and fried! They know where the reefs are and all the often small points of entry (called 'basis') to get into and out of the reefs. We usually only ate meals at night, often two big dinners consisting of all the local fare. We often skipped breakfast (usually just not offered, but not out of lack of hospitality, just cultural normalcy) and would grab a few handfuls of trailmix through the day. Come evening time we'd be famished and ready for the standard double round of dinner. Stuffed, we'd story with our hosts and their families and then go to bed. I'm not sure what we got most of our water from, but I'm guessing the scale falls over to kulau (coconuts). Available everywhere we went, it was cool, refreshing, and comes in it's own storage container lined with a ready made snack. There were several days we sailed 8 and 9 hours straight, no stopping. Often we'd sit around in the evening still with the sense of the rocking ocean, despite being on solid ground.

The final day we made the most mileage we'd done the whole trip, about 22 miles. We were elated to finally see the familiar center houses in view. We felt like we'd really accomplished something! The people at the center gathered to watch us sail in and we were greeted with cheers and hugs! Good to be back home again and see my wife and kids!

In the aftermath, I have some slight ulcer type sores on my butt and fingers and feet which are now healing quickly since they are staying dry. Interesting how small scratches and blisters get so nasty when they're just wet all the time.

More detailed day by day stories to come later. For now, I'd like to wait to see if there is any chance of getting our pictures back. I made a flyer with a big picture of the camera and information about it's return and a K200 reward. We posted about 30 of these around Madang. Knowing that the thief didn't steal it because of an interest in photography, but rather to sell it for a quick buck, he is going to try to come to Madang to do that. He'll have to go to different electronics stores to try to find a charger before he can sell it. So we talked to the police about it, who have 'informants' (street kids) who they'll have keep an eye out. We also talked to employees of the different stores where the thief might try to go to get cables to charge the camera. We also posted several around the bus stop that brings folks from Erima, the village where the thief is located, and also different notice boards around town and then just on various trees located in high traffic areas. We did that all yesterday (friday). Today is a very busy day in town as Saturdays usually are, and so we're hoping enough people see the notice that we can increase our chances of the camera being found. The police seem to know more of the activities of the thief types and will keep an eye out. We'll see what God has in store for this. If it be that the pictures cannot be returned then we'll be content to simply try to make a thousand words be worth a picture. Seriously though, there were some awesome pictures and videos of our experience. It will really hurt to have to let go of those if it comes down to it.

It's Time!

After two years of planning, building, and waiting, the time has finally arrived! It's time to put Shan Skailyn (and it's crew) to the test!

Early tomorrow morning (Friday, March 1) the helicopter, the only transportation in or out of our remote location, is scheduled to arrive. After it slings Shan Skailyn and it's crew down to the coast, my wife and four kids will head out to Madang about 90 miles up the coast where we plan to meet them after hopefully not more than 5 days.

This is Shan Skailyn's maiden voyage. It is also this virgin sailor's first chance to try to put all the pieces together into actual experience! Excitement level is high! Having done the best I can to think through and prepare for possible reasonable contingencies, it's time to dial down the 'what-ifs' and jump in. Will it be smooth sailing, good fishing, enough to eat, making our destination in good time with minimal problems? Or will the all too well attested reputation of Papua New Guinea as 'the land of the unexpected' hold true for these northern coastal waters as well? We shall soon see! Only God himself knows what is laid out before us in the next few days.

One thing I'm sure of though is that it will be an adventure! There won't be any internet on this little voyage, but may be some intermittent cell phone coverage. So I'm not sure what I'll be able to post during the actual trip... may end up being a few low quality pictures and descriptions via my half-wit phone if anything. Once in Madang I'll share lots more pictures and narrative impressions. While I'm aware this is a comparatively small venture for many, it's a big deal for me to be doing this. You'll just have to forgive that I don't let relative smallness of scale mitigate my own excitement!

For now, feast your eyes on Shan Skailyn all bundled up in aerodynamic efficiency for its maiden flight 12 miles out, from our cool 5000 feet to the coastal hot of zero. I spent today trying to get everything set up so it can be slung under the belly of a helicopter safely, without swinging and tossing about, or dropping anything into someone's hut or garden below. "I! Dispela hap diwai kam pundaun long we!? We'll save that kind of excitement for the sea. Yeah, that's a fin on the canoe, affixed to keep it pointing forward in flight. Hey, how many outrigger canoes have 'flight' as part of their repertoire?

Countdown is on!

The 90 mile Maiden Voyage of Shan Skailyn up the Rai Coast to Madang is nearing quickly! Just three weeks away! By way of reminder, we live in a location only accessible by helicopter. So the heli is going to sling the boat down to the coast, drop us and the boat off and then go on to take the rest of my family to Madang. We're going to sail/paddle the boat 90 miles up the coast over several days and meet the family in Madang.

The boat is complete, and the only things left are little packing details and logistics. My buddy Kyle has had to drop out at the last minute which had me scrambling for another sailing buddy. The person who will be taking Kyle's place, Chad, actually has sailing experience so that gives me a little more peace of mind regarding my inexperience. I have to confess though that while I'm very excited, I'm also quite nervous about this trip. The ocean scares me. All that big expanse of water with capacity for extremes... My lack of sailing experience... Knowing there's no turning back once we hit that beach... Knowing that I don't really know what to expect out there... So much out of my control; A test of my faith that God only ever intends the best for me and that no matter what happens, none of it is outside his control. Not that that gives me license for stupidity. He also gave me a brain and I'm accountable to use it! We're going to do what it takes to get this boat up the coast safely... and we're going to try to have some fun while doing it!

So the crew now consists of --- Sesi (a close buddy of mine from here in Mibu), Chad (a fellow expat missionary whom I've never met but who has sailing experience), and myself.

Oh, a couple small details I neglected to post: I finally made the tiller extension. Not a big deal, but it did turn out nice. I don't have the hardware for snapping the extension in place when not in use and I didn't like the prospect of shaping my own simply because all the solutions leave either a potential body gasher, should one ever fall or slip or whatever and land on top of it, or they take too much time and effort to lash, clip, bolt, or otherwise attach in place on the fly. So I dug out one of my old hard drive magnets, recessed it in the tiller, recessed a washer in the extension handle, filled both over with epoxy, and got myself a sweet setup for keeping the extension in place. Those hard drive magnets (rare earth magnets) are super strong so I imagine it'll hold through most any rough handling that comes about.

And then even though I was going to just settle for the three curved shaft paddles I'd made, I decided it would be best to have a fourth, in case one or two of them get lost or broken. This one is based off of Tim Anderson's quick paddle, cut out of plywood, glued and lashed to the handle. Though the way I made it turned it into not-such-a-quick-paddle. It's straight handled. But I didn't have a single piece of timber I thought was stiff enough for the job so I had to laminate three pieces. Then I didn't have a thinner piece of plywood for the blade, so I used a 12mm thick piece and had to round the backside (hence the interesting looking dark lines that you see). I also decided I wanted a tapered handle. All that took up time, making it take almost as long as my nicer (in my opinion) curved shaft paddles. Oh well... I have 4 paddles between the three of us. It's done. By the way, that little nick in the lower edge of the blade is a knot in one of the layers of the plywood. It's on the back edge of of the blade so shouldn't mess things up... hopefully.

And then one of the more mundane details, but it's almost comical so I deemed it worth posting... at least the picture. This is the supposedly waterproof bag I bought over a year ago for this trip. It's obviously well used, and when I tested for leaks, I found them everywhere. Now I know why it was being sold for only 5 bucks! So I've set about patching it using shoe goo and innertube rubber on the outside, then I found some old seam sealer I still had from way back when in my backpacking days. I had enough to coat the inside of the bag. Now the bag resembles a blue leopard, but should keep water out at least for this trip, which is all I need it for.

Probably not a whole lot more to post about until right before we head out the first week of March.