johnjuliano – Page 5

Waiting for parts in Exotic Locations

Renaissance Marina, Aruba, 20-Jan-2022 – The parts were in Miami last we heard. From there they should have gone onto a ship and then come to Aruba. Directly? We don’t know. How many stops along the way? We don’t know. How long might the parts sit in customs? We don’t know.

I’m on an Oyster 485-03: a 48.5 ft British-made boat, built in 1993 in Wroxham, Norwich, Norfolk, UK.*

Some background: The owner of the boat is James Evenson who I have known virtually for five years and in person the last two years. After the literal breakup of the catamaran Zingaro, James with the help of his Patreons and through a Kickstarter campaign purchased this boat in Curaçao.

Other people’s boats

SEATAC, 17-JAN-2022 – I was speaking to John Riley not too many weeks ago. I was telling John that being away from my boat meant that I don’t have much to write about. John said, write about other people’s boats.

And so I shall.

Communing with the dead: reflections from a landlocked sailor

Port Townsend, Washington, 14 December 2021 – It’s only been three months since we left Caro Babbo at Northern Enterprises in Homer, Alaska. They have been a long three months.

In those months, Jennifer and I flew from Homer directly to Berlin, Germany; I sailed a boat from Port Angeles to Oakland; I worked on my house in Atlanta and hosted a dinner for six; I made a new friend or two and collated and scanned the first of the dozen or two boxes of papers and photographs from my parents’ house.

The first box contained more than 1000 photographs, the majority from the 1920s through the 1940s. Until we get into the 1950s, everyone in any of those photographs has passed; I knew almost every one of those people. By the time we get to the 1950s and 60s my cousins and I are being born. For the most part, we are now older than that aged population whose lives I see progress through the decades of photographs as the pictures enter the 60s.

Dancing with somebody new…

Port Townsend, WA, 30-OCT-2021 – Should I be careful about what I wish for? Should we all?

Bluewater sailing: having the expertise and being known for it. That’s what I wanted, and perhaps, possibly, because I write about it, I am becoming known for it. Do I have that expertise? Well, that’s a different question.

Caro Babbo Sleeps

Mitte, Berlin, German, 13-SEP-2021 – The return to Homer was smooth and uneventful. We sailed when we could, three times, perhaps. Each time Caro Babbo coming into her own, sailing faster than I remember, reaching hull speed easily. This may be because we were in fairly protected waters each time, but most likely we had current helping us.

For the entire trip, we saw only three other sailboats. The first was a marina-mate from Ko’Olina marina on Oahu. Yes, it is a small world.

The reason we anchored here was to escape the wind

Home Cove, AK, 28-Aug-2021 — There was no wind blasting with fury last night. There were gusts into the high teens, I would guess. The anchor swing traced on the tablet was smooth and might have indicated that we dragged some, but perhaps that was just straightening out the chain or the 10% stretch of the nylon rode tracing a lengthening and shortening arc.

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Waiting, Waiting, can’t Wait

Home Bay, AK, 27-AUG-2021 — [Flora embroiders, Jennifer reads and I write. The solar panels are producing as much power as I have seen from them. Friends text us through the Iridium-satellite soda straw. Leonard Cohen plays on a pink metallic Macbook.]

Jennifer is much more cautious about weather than in years past. The reasons may be many. This year we are coastal sailing along the rough Kenai Peninsula with less frequent and less secure hiding places. This year Jennifer’s daughter is with us; no matter the age of the child the need to protect never leaves. It has been the longest we have been off Caro Babbo and perhaps Jennifer is more timid because of that. Perhaps because we are both getting older. I wonder, if it is because of the better, more accurate and more scary weather data available: there is generally always one model that predicts doom and gloom, which is why we sit and wait for weather to pass. The models are in agreement that forty-knot winds will come by late this afternoon or tonight. There is some disagreement about whether the winds will pass over us or just south of us, but with forty knots agreed upon, I am quite happy to wait until they pass by.

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Reflections at midpoint

Eshamy Bay, Eshamy Bay Marine Park, AK, 60° 27.125N 147° 58.393W, 20-aug-2021 — Yesterday, we left Whittier and started our return to Homer. At a trip 1/4 of our normal length, this feels very much like starting the return 1/8 into a normal year’s trip.

We’ve cruised enough times that we have no trouble settling into a routine but there are differences we’ve noticed.

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So how old is Glacier Ice?

60° 32.825N 148° 09.863W Nellie Juan Cannery, AK 15-AUG-2021 — Caro Babbo is traveling with a crew of three this year. Although I view Caro Babbo as Jennifer and me, having Jennifer’s daughter, Flora, with us has not only been very pleasant, but a great addition.

Even though I’ve known this young woman most of her life, there are two generations between Flora and me. So, there is a difference in how we interact and how much time we each feels appropriate to spend with a family member that great distance of years from us.

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Yo, hee, ho, yee-oh, ho

Abra Cove, Aialik Glacial Basin AK, 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday 7-AUG-2021 — Jennifer sleeps. We’ll spend the day here. An audio book plays in Flora’s cabin. Sleep comes to Flora with great difficulty and only for short periods of time.

Across the sound, giants grumble in the glacier. The rumbles, which must be down around 40 Hertz, seem to be something we should feel in our ribs instead it is the rumble of distance thunder, of dinosaurs, of giants.

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