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Published: September 13th 2008
Yacht Cleone, Bali, Indonesia Sept. 11, 2008
For the past eight days my world has essentially been split in two.
There’s the top half, a bright blue dome hanging over me for most of the day. The equatorial sun so bright you can’t look anywhere near it. An occasional cloud. When the sun sets the sky is the color of black ink, dotted with bright stars. There’s the Southern Cross, tilted on its side. The Milky Way looks like a stationary cloud, so high up it’s untouched by the winds. At some point the moon interrupts the black, spilling a white glow over everything. Only the brightest stars can compete. Then the blackness chases the moon away again.
Then there’s the bottom half, designated by the horizon. The surface of the sea acts as a mirror, reflecting everything above it, first the blue and the clouds. - all speckled because of the uneven surface of the water. At night it turns black, reflecting the ink and the void that loom above it, as well as the stars and eventually the moon when it rises. The sea is ominous because it looks to be deeper than the stars are high. Phosphorescence on the surface adds an eerie touch, as the wake from the boat stirs it to life.
I’ve never before felt such isolation and vastness. At the furthest point, Yacht Cleone is about five hundred miles from any city - Darwin, Australia to the east, and Bali, Indonesia to the west. The sky and the sea, and how the light plays on them mark the time.
Cleone plods along, bobbing its way towards Bali. If we are lucky, we’re helped by a breeze. For a sailing trip, the wind hasn’t cooperated at all. Sadly, we’ve motored more than we wanted. When a breeze pops up, Skipper James gets optimistic. We frantically unfurl the main sail, the genoa and occasionally the ghoster or the spinnaker. It’s a bit stressful getting it all to work right. The boat powers up and heels to the side, perfectly in tune with the gusts. It adds a lot of excitement but it’s short-lived. An hour or two or three later, we repeat the hectic process, this time in reverse. Then we sit and stare. First at the water, then the horizon and eventually the sky. Flying fish grab our attention as they buzz over the waves. Dolphins, sometimes hundreds, play on the wake of Cleone. On occasion one will jump clear out of the water, five feet or more into the air to catch a better glimpse of us staring at them. At night, an occasional light from another boat flickers on the horizon. We spend hours guessing what type of boat it is.
On Cleone we take shifts manning the helm - three hours on, six hours off. The schedule rotates so it’s never the same. After a cycle or two it’s hard to remember what day it is because I may sleep for five hours one night, or almost not at all if my evening shift is midnight to 3 a.m. Then I may sleep again in the middle of the day. I’ll man the boat for three hours, then nap for a bit. Then I’ll read. Sometimes I’ll stare out at the water without realizing that an hour or more has passed. Then I’ll nap, eventually stirred to life again by the heavy tropical heat.
I pass the time by switching lures on James’s fishing pole, hoping for better luck. None are successful. Darwin to Bali, almost one thousand miles, and I didn’t even hook a fish by accident.
We pass the time through witty banter. As an American, Brits and others often assume that I might have some special insight into whether Barack Obama will beat John McCain in the election. Or vice versa. I have no idea, but I offer my opinion. The conversation turns to other politicians. James and Norfy, another crew member, ask me about George W. Bush and Bill Clinton and Ronnie Reagan. We spend a lot of time bullshitting each other. We’re always on a first name basis with politicians. For example, I’ll say “The last time I spoke with Barack, he was pretty confident that …” James will reply with something similar, but always preceded by “Prince Philip and I agreed not to name drop, but we think…”
James and Norfy are about a year into an around-the-world sailing trip and various crew have joined them along the way. They’ve spent so much time together they often finish each other’s sentences. As James begins to tell a joke, Norfy snarls with disappointment even before the punchline, having heard the same joke told to each new crew member at least once. Snarls from Norfy are also elicited when James begins to recite a long yarn of puns.
We take turns cooking. Making a meal on a heeling yacht takes a little getting used to. The hazards are obvious. First you prepare the food, then you cook it. Before cooking begins we have to wear waterproof overalls in case we spill any of the hot food. The process is hot and daunting, and the meal has to be served in bowls and prepared in bite-sized pieces. We eat in the dark to help our night vision. No matter how gourmet it is, it always ends up looking like mush. But we’ll amuse ourselves over each meal by making the mush sound fancier than it is. For example, pork with vegetables and potatoes will instead be called sautéed pork medallions with artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes accompanied by a side of mustard and herb-encrusted roast potatoes. We’ll all chuckle. In the end, it’s still mush. And it’s so dark we can’t see what we’re eating.
After dinner, if James opens the biscuit container (cookie jar, for those Americans reading), he’ll say, “I think I’ll have just one -- one for each hand.” Norfy and James both chuckle. If Norfy is the first into the biscuit container he’ll say the same thing. They’ll both chuckle. After about the seventh day of this, I found myself dipping into the biscuit container, and saying, “I think I’ll have one - one for each hand.”
So far, I’m adjusting to sea life in the tropics just fine. We arrived in Bali this morning and we’ll be here for about six days.
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Peter Armitage
non-member comment
!
"When the sun sets the sky is the color of black ink, dotted with bright stars. There’s the Southern Cross, tilted on its side. The Milky Way looks like a stationary cloud, so high up it’s untouched by the winds. At some point the moon interrupts the black, spilling a white glow over everything. Only the brightest stars can compete. Then the blackness chases the moon away again..... At night it turns black, reflecting the ink and the void that loom above it, as well as the stars and eventually the moon when it rises. The sea is ominous because it looks to be deeper than the stars are high." Awesome brother ....