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E komo mai!

We are living on a sailing catamaran in Hawaii. Hana hou!

Sailing all Day in Key West!

We rented a Hobie 16 from the Sunset Watersports guys on Smathers Beach Saturday. The best deal ending up being a beach pass, which gave us unlimited access to whatever toys they have for the whole day. The guys had a hard time accepting that neither of us was interested in parasailing. They asked at least three times if we were sure we didn't want to go and each time we replied negatively, they said, "Well, you can make up your mind about it later. The last boat goes out at 4."

I think they were still shaking their heads as we walked away at 4 and headed back to town on our bikes.

The wind was great the whole time, blowing out of the North, steady 15 kts early and gusting up to 20. In the afternoon, toward the end of our second session, we got a nice sustained 20+ kt wind and we were about two inches away from flying the windward hull. Very fun, thrilling beam reach!

I can see why they are warm-weather boats, however. The water flys around and with the sun mostly hiding behind clouds, Kris was chicken-skinned from head-to-toe for most of our sailing.

I ditched my shirt and I've got a nice red-tint to my skin. Happy for a sunburn on my Willamette Valley winter skin.

We saw a trio of keelboats working West a bit outside of where we were, so we sailed right out to them and gybed onto their line. We passed all three of them in short order. They all had their Key West Race Week placards on their bows and looked to be in the 20' range. Not sure what class/boat-type, though. (Addendum: looks like they were J 80s.)

The Hobie is pretty easy to get caught in irons, we found out quickly. Tacking into the wind is a touchy business and we spent a bit of time blaming each other. Me, certain that Kris wasn't working the jib properly through the turn and Kris repeating, "What did you do?" each time we'd heave up and stall.

We gybed okay, however, so tried to approach everything that way. Which must have looked funny when we sailed back to the beach, directly into the wind, and did loops at each of our tacking points. But maybe experienced sailors thought we were just showing off ...

We will probably try it again on Monday and see if we can master the Hobie Cat tack.

We ended the day with a bottle of rum and a game of dominoes in the galley onboard Appledore. Looking forward to sailing on that boat this afternoon.

Planting Spars

The girls and I spent MLK Day planting trees with the local chapter of the Friends of Trees. Well, maybe we just spent the morning. That's not bad, though.

We put in two rhododendrons and four Ponderosas, after the girls ate a donut that looked like a battle between a bottle of Nyquil and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol had transpired on top; nuclear blue vs. I-Dream-of-Jeannie pink.

Followed it all up with a pint o' Mirror Pond and the Miss Piggy at Flying Pie Pizza. Can't go wrong with smoked ham, Italian sausage, and pepperoni all smashed together on top of a pizza.

Less than 72 hrs from now we will be landing in Key West. I expect to be working through my first half-dozen rum runners in about 72 hrs, while listening to the Race Week participants tell stories at the village on Greene St.

Sunshine, c'mon!

Abstraction Leads to Neglect

We've been making slow progress on our transition from dinghy sailors to keelboat owner/sailors. We quit the sailing club a couple of months back and have been waiting on spring to spruce up Love and Coconuts and put her up for sale.

Not a lot to talk about on the sailing front then. That, coupled with lots of job and life transitions has, um, well taking the wind out of our sailing blogs.

I could go into the boring details of finance-finagling, but suffice it to say, they ARE boring details. We move glacially toward the liveaboard boat, with our eyes on minimizing costs to get there, in hopes of maximizing our time sailing.

This is all so abstract. I'm much happier with sensation-driven writing.

Fingers crossed that more of that is coming soon.

Key West in six days!

Book Review: Always a Distant Anchorage - Hal Roth

Since I launched into this undertaking two years ago, the two cruising writers I heard most frequently mentioned were Eric Hiscock and Hal Roth. I have a set of Hiscock's books on the night table and expect to get at them this winter and I just finished my first Hal Roth book last week. Always a Distant Anchorage is the retelling of Hal's and his wife Margaret's circumnavigation from Maine, through the Panama and Suez canals onboard their yacht Whisper.

I have read a couple dozen books about people's sailing adventures. More than any other genre, it seems that sailing a long distance inspires even the most pedestrian of writers to put pen to paper (digit to digital input interface?) and tell their tale sailing. Of those, Hal stands out as a guy with the most solid of writing skills.

This guy can tell a story. I was riveted from start to finish, even taking the book along with me to work, which I don't often do. It was easy to pick up and read for a short bit, or again for longer stretches and it was loaded with both a mix of immediate and interesting adventures, reflection on the lifestyle and experiences, and background on the places and people they encountered.

This particular book also offers a nice blend of sublime moments in beautiful oceanside settings and adrenalin-inducing moments of risk and uncertain outcome, as when Hal and Margaret run up on a reef that their chart mistakenly mis-mapped.

Two thumbs up, highly recommend! Kris is reading it now.

Colette

A former colleague and friend died this weekend. Colette was young, in her thirties, and one of the most vibrant people I know. I wasn't very close to her and her family. I would have liked to have been closer. When I worked with Colette, I always enjoyed the parts of projects where I got to work side-by-side with her.

People always talk about her positivity and her energy.

If eyes are the window to the soul, then Colette's eyes betrayed a bright, happy soul. I remember her in a little black cocktail dress, when my wife-to-be (our future together unbeknown to either of us, or at least me) and the rest of the women who worked on a floor in our office we fondly referred to as the Lido Deck, hosted a company party by outfitting the place like a swanky lounge and greeting the rest of the company in a line of similarly attired hostesses, offering silver trays of hors d'oeuvres as we entered.

She will always live in my memory as a pair of sparkling eyes.

I ran into Colette socially, on occasion, too; Portland is a small town, after all. I shared a drink with her at a housewarming party, when Kris moved into her downtown condo. I recall seeing her on fifth avenue, arm-in-arm with Michael, who I hadn't met yet, waiting for a bus. My impression was that they would have been happy if the bus never came and they would have stood there all night, canoodling each other on a beautiful Portland evening.

How do we spend our time? The minutes filled with memory and experience because we are here, now? Or does the hour-hand move too slow on our way to the next thing?

I know that, partly, that image stuck with me because I wanted that in my life. I wanted that love from a partner who wanted to meet me and be my match. Michael and Colette, in that moment, modeled that thing I knew was possible; that thing I wanted and found not too long after.

So, what do you say when a young, beautiful woman dies much too soon?

I wept a bit for her small children. I felt a hollowness for her husband, who has so passionately advocated for her over the course of fighting this disease for over a year. I felt the warmth of my wife's tears on my shoulder, as we recalled our moments with Colette over the past seven years; most of those moments piled up early on.

I don't feel like saying goodbye, because I can still feel the bright blaze behind those beautiful eyes. How about see you later? Let's catch up again, my friend.

I think I'd rather leave it somewhere like that.

Paellas, Pies, and IPAs

I won't spend too much time in the bloggers hair shirt, but I've been consumed with working two jobs lately in the hopes of shortening our timeline to get into a keel boat. So, time for blogging has been consumed by paying projects. I do want to join in on Carol Anne's food writer challenge. I have three meals I've made in the past couple of weeks that were new for me. First, I made a recipe for Fiesta Chicken out of a recent issue of Cruising magazine. Came out pretty good, but no pictures to prove it. More fun, and more interesting to me, however, I did steamed clams and a paella twice in the last week. First time around I used a nice bulk chorizo from a local grocery and it was nearly a perfect meal. The heat was not overwhelming, but it definitely inspired me to tilt the IPA bottle quicker a couple of times. The second time I made the meal, the kids were here, so had to spice it down. The grocery man had a nice Spanish chorizo that was very mild and worked well for a kiddie meal; it was in tube form, so I put the kids to work helping me peel away the casing and break up the sausage. I'm not as interested in that one, so let's get on to the one I am~ I spent my teenage years around New Orleans and love well-spiced foods. What I ate down there growing up was done nearly exactly like my paella recipe. Unfortunately, nearly everywhere outside of NOLA that I try for their Cajun or Creole recipes, substitutes well-spiced with over-spiced. Simply stomping on the chili pepper accelerator does not make something Cajun, my friends. As for the moderating part of the meal, I was trying some beer pairing. The guys I was preparing dinner for are friends with which I've been doing a meal once a month for a few years. We've gotten pretty good at sharing some great wines and have even gone in to purchase some wines together. I wanted to take a break from all of that classiness and notch it down a bit. Anybody can pair wines, or find out how to do it. My challenge was figuring out what beer paired well with each aspect of the meal. So, for the salty appetizers (thinly sliced Serrano ham and steamed clams), I chose a dry Irish stout. It was local, so not Guinness or Murphys, but probably a better choice. For the main paella course, the IPA was a perfect balance with the hoppy-ness able to cut through the heat of the chorizo and peppers. The IPAs I used were from Ninkasi (I looked them up, expecting the name to be a mashup of some sort; turns out, Ninkasi is the Greek goddess of fermentation. So, say your prayers!), a brewery in Eugene, Oregon (Track City U.S.A., if you didn't know...). I had the Spring Reign seasonal, the Double Red, and, what is currently my favorite beer, Total Domination IPA. I know that the first two don't have IPA in their names, but trust me, their IBUs were well into IPA territory. I loved making the paella. It is very close to my jambalaya recipe that I've been using for thirty years. I went and got a carbon steel paella pan that I'll keep and use often. However, I think you could probably do the whole thing in a wok just as easily. It seems the key is getting the heat evenly distributed as you work your way through the process of adding ingredients and letting them soak up the oils and saute. The final course was a raw-foods pie that my friend the doctor brought along. We had a Belgian Lambic dark cherry that had a lovely balance between the light fizzy body and the fruit flavor. I went here for my paella recipe and here for the steamed clams.

Dolphins Under My Bed - Sandra Clayton

This book makes me say 'meh.' I enjoyed the concept--husband and wife sailing away in middle age--and most of the sailing-related narrative was well done, especially the waterspouts they were chased by and the vagaries of passage-making. However, speaking of vagaries, the pace of the book is bogged down with the regularly interspersed little vignettes in which this woman would complain about the annoyances she encountered in each new port of call. It was pretty obvious she missed the familiarities of home. It was also pretty obvious that she's one of those sorts of English people you don't want to meet. The sort who have a permanent facial expression seeming to ask the question, "Who farted?"

In the Year 2025

My participation in Homme de Talleur's latest group writing project.

In the year 2025 the most interesting thing about sailing will be Kris and I out there cruising for our tenth year. Interesting to whom, you ask? Well, to me of course.

And away we go...

Happy Birthday, Proper Course

I didn't start this, but I'm jumping onboard. Blame frogma.

There was an old man from Sakonnet
He moved there to sail in his bonnet
A Laser it was
Blogging he does
Now he's five years older, doggone-it!

Somebody needs to work on the Tillerman-TeaPartyBagging angle ...

Bonnie started it. I joined in. And now it's official, because everybody's favorite commenter, has composed an opus.

And another from Pandabonium (best name ever!). For those scoring at home, this IS a haiku, since it does mention something with regard to the season and offers a surprise (aha!) moment in each line.

And, finally (finally because it's last here and it took me forever to find it; which is a testament to my skills with my google), this resonant beauty from Zen.

The Princess and the Boatshow

I made it out to Excel in the Docklands for the London International Boat Show yesterday. It's a good-sized show and I was able to spend three hours solely on the sail side of the hall and still feel there was a bit more to see, were I to look closer and spend more time with some of the displays.

I looked at all of the boats, but only went aboard the Southerly 49 on display. I was impressed with the swing keel and was fortunate to have a naval architect as my tour guide. He was even more enthusiastic about opening everything up and looking at how it was put together and talking about how things worked. Loved the washing machine tucked in behind the owner's head.


One feature of the Southerly I really liked was the raised salon table and the narrow galley along the starboard bulkhead. I could see this working well underway.



I saw a large military presence at the show, including sailors and marines, and was told that Princess Anne [early readers who re-read may note that I've added an e to the Princesses Anne; later readers are left with this unnecessary note] was visiting. She's Chuck's sister.

To top it all off, I ended the day at the Duke's Head for supper and a drink with Captain JP.

I understand the Duke's Head is Adam's favorite. It's a good spot, but a longer walk from the train station than the Boathouse.

Excel-ling Tomorrow

Arrived in London yesterday, despite Air Canada's best efforts to delay us on the frozen tundra of Alberta for an indefinitely long and white weekend. We made the best of our day+ stay in Calgary and have had our first pints in jolly olde.

The boat show tomorrow! It's at a venue here in London called Excel, hence (I'm using pommy conjunctions whilst amongst the speaker's of the King's English) my pun.

Some shots from our walk around town last night, whilst (!) trying to keep ourselves up and awake to adapt to the time change.

I especially like this front view. There was a very light snow falling and I think it gave the sky the special purplish glow you can see here.


The iPhone occasionally takes an exceptionally great picture that surprises you. These shots of Westminster Abbey from side and front, plus that of the tower clocky thing, came out kinda arty.

State of the Union

It's Omphaloskepsis season, so let's all lift our shirts and begin gazing at our navels!

For the record, things are going as strong as ever in the Love and Coconuts household, with regards to our bringing our dream to life. We have been slogging along with domestic chores here in the off-season, working toward our financial goals that will put us in a bigger boat sometime in the next 6-18 months.

Don't worry about us too much, however, because our priorities are in order. We took two weeks to go thaw out on Maui in late November. We expect to limit our trips next year with the goal of spending more time on the water in the dinghy, as well as doing what we need to get into a keelboat.

We'll be traveling to London in early January, where Kris will do lots of work-type things, while Greg works on getting into the Excel boatshow and checking out the new season's offerings.

After that, the hope is that we get a couple of decent days, with some semi-warm weather and some early season sailing.

Our best to everyone in the new year!

Aloha!

Voyaging the Pacific - Miles Hordern

Just finished this one and found myself stringing it out, the last third. I was enjoying the location, maybe more than the writing. Although, I found it well written. Miles is a pom living in New Zealand and he embarks on a trip across the Southern Ocean, which is a large part of the book. He talks a lot about the expanse of ocean, the history of it, and more, while also doing a good job of putting you right in the cockpit and the cabin of his single-handed 28-footer.

He eventually runs into the South American continent and winds up helping on a mapping effort in the many islands, sounds, and waterways of the Chilean coast. He manages to evoke the place in a way that again puts you right there with him.

Eventually, Miles bears off to the North and then picks up the Trades and heads west. I found it quite interesting how many places he sailed right past; in the spirit of Moitessier, Mr. Hordern seemed happier to slip on past and keep to see.

My first experience of the Gambier Islands was through his writing here.

I found the bibliography to be a treasure trove of titles that I expect to tackle soon. There appear to be a couple editions of this out there, one of which has a variation on this title.

viagra salespeople and chinese sailing fans

Owing to the large amount of comment traffic that I just can't translate, I'm turning the captcha back on. I hope this doesn't mess up your sales plans or ability to post repeated chinese character comments.

love, greg

This post has been removed by the auteur

Who's got the sailing hookup on Maui?

Anybody know some good sailing connections on Maui? I see many of these snorkel and champagne things going on, but no true sailing, other than the America II.

Recycled Adventure

I posted this one a little over a year ago when I launched this dinghy adventure.

... and I want some comments this time, my friends. Otherwise, I'm hunger-striking, or something like that.

Run for your lives!

Happy Halloween!

Identity

A blogger who I've enjoyed reading thanks to a Tillerman tip, is calling for a writing project regarding identity. This guy, called something like Walter Mitty, gives an interesting account of what inspired him to ask everyone to write about identity. Then he calls for the following:

I want to hear about an aspect of your cultural identity and to counterpoint that, an aspect of the rivalry with another group that surely must, by definition, exist alongside it.

I was struck by this idea and after reading Walter's call for submissions I was puzzling it over as I drove to pick up my kids from school. In the car Teri Gross was interviewing a Pakistani man who'd moved to the US at a young age and has found himself searching for a deeper understanding of his identity, which is a mix of an American identity and a Muslim in America, as well as a struggle with who he is when he goes back to Pakistan for the occasional visit.

I think Americans are, by definition and necessity, at a constant crossroads of identity-seeking. My own story in America is only three generations old on my dad's side. My great-grandfather having sailed from Cork to San Francisco in 1886. My dad's maternal side came around the same time and ended up in the same Irish neighborhood in SF.

On my mom's side, there are similar stories, including one set of ancestors who sailed to Panama, which was a common thing to do, walked across the isthmus and sailed up to SF. However, they had their walk interrupted by civil war in Panama, which turned their 2-3 week trek, into a year-long odyssey.

Many of my Irish ancestors were escaping abject poverty, overcrowded homes, and severely limited futures.

My grandmother also traces roots to Captain John Smith, who's middle name may or may not have been Randy, as he seems to have quite a prolific family tree in the waning centuries of his North American adventures.

So, there's the background for me being dropped here in the Western US in the late 20th century. I've got a pretty solid grip on my cultural heritage, however, smoothly translating that into an identity starts to get a little squirrely when I think about the geographical aspects of who I am.

My dad joined the Air Force and I was born on Edwards Air Force Base in Southern California's Mojave Desert. Two years later, we found ourselves in Alaska for a three-year stretch. After that, I spent spots of time in the range of 2-4 years in Salt Lake City, Colorado, Texas, the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and Oregon.

Some years in Hawaii, a few in New York City, and one in Florida round out four-plus decades of itchy feet.

What is my American identity and how is it influenced by rivalry? I got beat up for being a Catholic in Mormon country, a Yankee in Texas, and white in Mississippi, which is plenty of rivalry; none of which I chose. I eventually learned how to stick up for myself and figured out no matter where you go, if you're not careful, you'll find the person who has a problem with you.

I'm not sure I'll ever understand the Texas perspective on what a Yankee is. I tried to explain to the guys who jumped me when I was twelve, that my family was from Ireland, by way of California. Neither place had anything to do with the Civil War. I think Yankee may just mean "doesn't sound like me," or "arrived here from a bearing generally North."

Ultimately, I feel like my identity is in many ways influenced by geography, including the landscapes of the West; the seascapes of the Gulf of Mexico; the reefs I surf in Hawaii; and my urban American living.

Cars and long-distance drives through American landscapes are a large part of my identity, which is what guys like Wim Wenders and Jim Jarmusch are trying to tell me, I believe, with the quantity and quality of those shots in their films.

I served in the Navy and sailed around the Pacific Rim, hitting ports on the way. I went through the Moluccan Straights and into the Indian Ocean, which still inspires dreams of The Maldives.

I have three daughters and a son, who certainly influence my identity, as do my sister, three brothers, and my parents. Although, as I grow older, I find the influence of my family of origin fading and more like a memory I take out of storage occasionally, than any sort of anchor.

My children, on the other hand, reflect back to me who I want to be, my struggles to become that person, the ways I've succeeded and the ways I've come up short.

To bring it back to Mr. Mondale, I imagine a guy with a thoroughly English-sounding name, living in a small village in the UK, probably has a pretty deeply-rooted sense of his own identity from the geographical and historical perspectives, and it's curious to me, what that must be like. In what ways is it limiting and in what ways is it empowering?

I'm sure that the freedom to move and change and, in some ways choose my identity, that I'm afforded here in America is something that I may never be able to put a value on. I know it's the one thing I want to give my kids.

In other ways, I wonder what it would be like to have a home and an identity that are less ephemeral.