Women and Cruising By MichaelWOODACRE, CA

Check out the Del Viento crew on the Women and Cruising site. Posted yesterday is an interview I did for them accompanied by a wide range of photos old and new.

If you're not familiar with Women and Cruising, it's worth checking out. The site is intended for the fairer sex, but it's a great resource for anybody interested in cruising. And if you are a woman and you have something to say, it's a great place to submit a story you think will be of interest to other cruising women (just send an email to kathy@forcruisers.com).

Meanwhile, we are a frantic bunch about now. When you've been someplace three months, you've kind of moved in. So we are busy moving out and packing up a mountain of boat parts and the spoils of North American life to schlep all the way to Tonga. We leave in less than 48 hours.

At this time, sailing to Tonga is seeming easier--and maybe only a bit slower--than returning by plane. From San Francisco we take a short flight on Virgin America to LA. We arrive LA about 9:30 at night and then depart for Fiji on Fiji Airways at 11:30 p.m.. By the time we reach cruising altitude, it'll be the next day. Several hours later we cross the date line and it's another day gone. When we land in Fiji, it's about 5:00 a.m. and the start of our 11-hour layover in the Nadi terminal. Early that evening, we board a much smaller Fiji Airways plane for Nuku'alofa, Tonga. But we don't arrive in time for the last REALTonga flight north to Neiafu, so we crash in a hotel. The next afternoon, we get on a smaller plane and skip over the waves for about 90 minutes. After we land for good, take a cab to the waterfront, commandeer a dinghy, and reach Del Viento, it'll be dinner time.

I'm so excited to return, I can hardly stand it.

--MR

http://www.womenandcruising.com/sailing-family-del-viento.htm

Wanna Write a Magazine Article? By MichaelWOODACRE, CA

In kindergarten I was tasked with making a shoebox diorama that showed me engaged in my future vocation. The little cardboard me I cut out wasn't playing a professional sport or fighting a fire or walking on the Moon. Instead, Mini Me sat solo in the empty Vans shoebox, in a tiny cardboard chair, behind a tiny cardboard table, in front of a tiny cardboard typewriter. It wasn't a dream I chased very far. At some point growing up I was dissuaded by pragmatism. Having learned that I stood the same chances of becoming a successful writer as my kindergarten classmates did becoming a professional baseball player, I steered clear of ever being caught playing the dreamer.

Nearly five years ago--almost four decades out of kindergarten--we left to go cruising and I was suddenly rich in time. I decided to start writing in earnest. I began selling my writing.

Now, I'm proud and eager to announce a new book filled with all the knowledge I've gained: Selling Your Writing to the Boating Magazines (and other niche mags) (2016, Force Four Publications).

I hope this book gives aspiring writers the knowledge and confidence to get published in their favorite magazines.

Jen Brett, Senior Editor at Cruising World magazine, wrote that Selling Your Writing to the Boating Magazines, "Should be required reading for anyone looking to break into freelance journalism."

Following are additional early reviews I'm pleased to share:

“From now on when I get queries from sailors wanting to know how to get started as writers for the sailing press, I’ll recommend this book. It’s not just the book editors have been waiting for, it’s the book long awaited by every sailor who hopes to make a buck while pursuing his sailing dream.”
—Karen Larson, Publisher of Good Old Boat

“Concise, useful and encouraging for any aspiring magazine writer, not just those in the sailing field.”
—Lin Pardey, author of more than 400 magazine articles

"Michael Robertson has done a great job composing a primer of practicalities for freelance writers. His clear advice is reinforced by having been widely published himself, allowing him to cite numerous useful examples from his own efforts."
—Tim Queeney, Editor of Ocean Navigator

"If you’ve ever thought about sharing your passion by writing about what you love, you need this book. Michael Robertson has put together the ultimate toolkit for launching your freelancing dream."
—Beth A. Leonard, freelancer, speaker, and author who supported herself for two decades writing from her boat

If you're interested, ask your local librarian to order Selling Your Writing to the Boating Magazines, or buy a copy at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Kobo.

--MR

Hot Showers and All the Rest By MichaelWOODACRE, CA

Less than one year away from actual teen
age and we already have a blue streak.
(courtesy Bryce Cannon)

Maybe it was in Passage to Juneau, maybe it was in Coasting, but someplace writer Jonathan Raban related this idea that island dwellers have a different relationship with the sea than their continental brethren. He wrote that islanders see the ocean that surrounds them as a path to other places, a gateway or a highway, whereas the people who inhabit continents see the ocean as a boundary, the end of their beloved roads.

Del Viento is our tiny island. We do most of our eating, sleeping, schooling, and living aboard that 40-foot fiberglass hole in the water. It's home. And while she's a small home, we don't feel bound. Aboard Del Viento we are surrounded by paths to other places. I think this islander perception does something to a person's psyche. Not good or bad, but something.

I'm a regular guy who has spent the better part of my life living the conventional American land-based life. I'm not ignorant of nor immune to the allure of the lives we left. I'm not a Moitessier-like seafaring gypsy who can only find peace on a boat far from land. Yet, we've lived unconventionally for the past four-and-a-half years. Now, having been continental people since Christmas, I realize I've been changed by our lives aboard Del Viento.

I've experienced a range of emotions and reactions since we left Tonga and I think I can distill it all down to one word: struggle.

Here in the regular house in which we are staying, hot water flows freely from a showerhead whenever I want it to. I don't have anything like this on Del Viento. Sure, if the stars align and I have the solar shower filled and the sun shines all day and the night is cool, I can haul that bag up on a halyard and enjoy something like a hot shower. But the stars don't often align in this way. Along with not seeing good friends (like Jana Price), I've long-considered the absence of frequent hot water showers a drawback of life on my tiny island. I've said the same about having to lug jerry cans of fresh water aboard. About perpetually slow or non-existent internet. About good beer and ice cream being hard to find.

I no longer think the absence of these luxuries is a drawback.

When we first landed on the continent, the hot-water-showers-on-demand gave me tremendous pleasure. But now that feeling has almost disappeared and there is nothing to replace it.

Losing my appreciation for the shower isn't the problem. I think the problem lies in the absence of a longing that seems to enhance life and mark the days. I like that aboard Del Viento I can remember the few days that culminated in being naked on deck beneath the stars and a hot solar shower. I appreciate those showers like the hot showers I get here, but I never stop appreciating them. In the same way that even after schlepping the 5-gallon jerry cans of water aboard, the delicate and fickle systems on our boat never allow me to take for granted the availability of that water at the tap. The same way that a whisper in American Samoa that bitter ales could be had in Tonga was a catalyst for anticipation. We've grown accustomed to celebrating the basics. I don't know how to write it so it doesn't sound dramatic, but I think it ties into the idea of feeling rich with comparatively little.

In two weeks we return to our island, surrounded by an ocean that is a path to other places, perhaps a gateway to the next hot shower, good beer, faster internet, and all the rest. But definitely not all at once, and maybe none at all. I can't know what's over the horizon and if I catch myself bemoaning that fact, I'll remind myself that I prefer it that way.

--MR

It's been nice to witness the rebirth of California wildflowers
with the rains that have been so long overdue. The mighty
oaks are happy too. (courtesy Bryce Cannon)

Another lesson from returning home is that you don't have
to travel to remote parts of the world to find beauty.
(courtesy Bryce Cannon)

Long Way Home By MichaelWOODACRE, CA

Almost to Windy's folks' house.

“You must be Eleanor and Frances!” the woman behind the REALTonga counter said as we approached, smiling at Eleanor and Frances. You know things have not gotten too big when a quick glance at the day’s passenger manifest makes it easy to deduce who passengers are as they walk into the terminal. I was still surprised when we checked in and got our boarding passes without ever showing identification. Our bags were weighed and tagged and taken from us. Then a roar overhead let us know that our plane had arrived.

REALtonga is the only Tongan airline. Their website features a picture of a generic, 737-sized jet streaking across the sky. But this is misleading. The REALtonga fleet is jet-free. The airline is almost 3 years old and began with only a single plane, a Xian MA60 that the Chinese government gifted to the Kingdom of Tonga and which the Kingdom of Tonga then leased to the burgeoning airline. But this arrangement didn’t pan out. The plane apparently has such a poor safety record that the New Zealand government issued a travel advisory to its citizens and withheld $10 million dollars in Tongan aid in a bid to get them to stop flying the thing. Within a year, the Tongan government returned the plane to China and the airline announced the purchase of two aging British Aerospace Jetstream 32 aircraft. That’s what I thought we’d be boarding.

“So what kind of plane is this?” I asked our Kiwi captain through the cockpit window after we landed in Nukuʻalofa, in southern Tonga.

“It’s a Harbin Y12, a Chinese knock-off of the Canadian Twin Otter.”

It would have been possible for us to fly from Neiafu to Nuku’alofa and then board a flight to Nadi, Fiji the same day, but we’d been warned. Apparently, REALtonga flights are VFR-only. This means they don’t fly during weather conditions—either at the departure point or the destination—that require pilots to use instruments. Also, during the seven weeks we were in Tonga, we heard several stories of folks whose travel plans were interrupted because of a mechanical issue with a REALtonga plane.

“You should really give yourself a day or so buffer; just plan an overnight in Nuku’alofa.”

So a month before leaving, we walked back to the high school in Neiafu, to the room that serves as the REALtonga office, and changed our flight.

“Great, so we leave a day sooner, same time. Is there any charge for changing our fare?”

“No, there is no charge.”

Once in Nuku’alofa, the REALtonga portion of our itinerary was over. We spent the night in a modern, New Zealand-company-owned hotel and the next afternoon boarded a Fiji Airways turbo-prop for a two-hour flight to Nadi (pronounced nahn-dee). There was again no taking off our shoes, no x-ray machine, no security check at all.

In Nadi, things got familiar. The terminal is modern and similar to any big-city airport terminal in the world. Burger King didn’t have their veggie burger available, but the friendly Fijians behind the counter came up with their own solution for me: a cheeseburger with all the trimmings, but substituting the meat patty for onion rings. Sold.

This time we did pass through all the customary security checkpoints and then boarded a clean wide-body A-330 for a 10-hour red-eye to Los Angeles. There, bleary-eyed and spent, we passed our two-hour layover lugging ourselves and stuff over to the Virgin America gate for a short flight up to San Francisco.

Driving across the Golden Gate Bridge, I realized that while it had seemed we’d been traveling for days, it was still two hours prior to the date and time that it was when we left Nuku’alofa. We’ll pay for that time gain on the way home in a few weeks, when we head back across the Date Line, back to Del Viento. I miss her bad.

--MR

Windy and the girls crossing the tarmac in Neiafu.
The pilot I talked to has flown both the Twin Otter and the Y-12
and he said the only discernable difference between the two planes
is the cost. He said operators who choose the Y-12 save
about $1M.

The following day, headed for our ATR-72 in Nuku'alofa.

Homeschooling is as much about mindset as practicalities. It's about
integrating learning into every facet of daily life, even when it slows
things down or is not easy. Here the girls are filling out their own
customs forms, requiring we wait and wait and answer about 25
questions.

Interview: 10 and 12 By MichaelWOODACRE, CA

Good times in Tonga. This is Eleanor on a
kneeboard, being towed past Del Viento by
Michael of Wondertime.

So, back in the spring of 2011, I interviewed Eleanor, the soon-to-be-cruiser. A month later, I asked the same questions of 5-year-old Frances. I just read those posts to the girls tonight and they thought they were the funniest things ever, images of their old selves and perceptions. This week, Frances turns 10 and I no longer have a child in the single digits. It’s sad, unbelievable, and exciting.

Five years later and I’ve again interviewed the girls, this time they’re cruising veterans. Their answers are more considered and the perspectives more complicated. In the same way they tonight enjoyed reading interviews of their 7- and 5-year-old selves, I hope that their 17- and 15-year-old selves appreciate these—and I just cannot fathom that those young women are only another 60 months away.

What aspect of the cruising life appeals to you most?

FRANCES: Hmm, like traveling to different places and seeing new things and eating new foods and talking to different people, things like that.

ELEANOR: Umm, pretty much the same as Franny, except I also like that I get to spend a lot of time with my family.

What about cruising do you wish you could change?

ELEANOR: Umm, definitely that I never, or very rarely, get to see like my extended family or my friends, my close friends.

But don’t you see your extended family more than you would if we were living in a house in D.C.? Back then we’d have only a two-week vacation each year to see people. Since we’ve been cruising, we’ve averaged a lot more than that with family.

ELEANOR: Yeah, that’s true, so I guess it’s more about friends.

FRANCES: I’d say the same as Eleanor.

How is the boatschooling going?

FRANCES: Fine.

ELEANOR: Good.

You’ve been aboard a bunch of boats now. How is Del Viento as a home? Do you wish it was bigger or smaller or laid out differently—like would you rather it was a cat, for example?

ELEANOR: No, I love Del Viento. I’m really glad that it’s a monohull and that it’s not too modern-y. Umm, sometimes I wish I had my own room, it’s just nice to have like someplace to go, but, uh, I also like sharing a room with Franny.

FRANCES: Same as Eleanor, just, um, yeah, it’s like the perfect size and everything.

If you could snap your fingers and be back to living in a house, living a more typical life, would you?

FRANCES: Definitely not.

ELEANOR: No.

At what age do you think you’ll want to stop cruising?

ELEANOR: Umm, I don’t know, it depends. I want to go to high school, someplace, maybe in Japan, and I think that would be a good time to stop cruising.

FRANCES: Probably in, like, my late teens, eighteen or seventeen.

Do you think you’ll want to sail around with your own family when you’re my age?

FRANCES: No, but I still would like to travel a lot.

ELEANOR: Same as Franny, but I would like to, umm, maybe do it when I’m a young adult.

Franny, what about you, cruising in your young adult life?

FRANCES: No.

Do you have a favorite place you’ve been?

FRANCES: No, just like, I’ve loved all the places. Umm, I especially like Santa Rosalia and umm, like Juneau in Alaska, yeah.

ELEANOR: Umm, a little of every place we’ve been. Some places feel more like home to me, some places hold a more significant memory like Santa Rosalia, La Paz, and, umm, probably Tonga in the future. Yeah, but I probably couldn’t choose.

Is there any place we’ve traveled to that you would want to live someday?

ELEANOR: Umm, I don’t know. I love Mexico and I fantasize about living in Alaska, but I doubt that it will ever happen. But, yeah, I love Mexico, I guess that would be the biggest one.

Why do you doubt you’ll ever live in Alaska?

ELEANOR: Just because I don’t think it’s something I would realistically do, but I like the idea of it.

FRANCES: I’d love to live in Alaska.

What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you since we started cruising?

FRANCES: Umm, mmm, probably like, I don’t know, maybe like storms comes to mind, like really bad storms where you just have to stay in. Like when we waited in Mexico for the hurricane to pass over us.

Odile?

FRANCES: Yeah, Odile.

ELEANOR: Umm, yeah, hurricane Odile comes to mind, that was definitely way up there, but I’d have to really rack my brain to be positive.

Of all the places we’ve been, which has been your least favorite?

ELEANOR: Again, I’d have to think.

FRANCES: There’s really no place that I’ve went to that I hated. Some places I’m sort of like “ick.”

Like where?

FRANCES: Hmm, I can’t think.

ELEANOR: Umm, yeah, like I know there’s bad places, but, I guess probably someplace in Mexico where there are a bunch of drunk ex-pats! I don’t know.

What is the best advice you could offer a kid your age whose parents are thinking about going cruising?

FRANCES: Oh gosh, umm, like, something like, mmm, it’s not as scary as it seems, something like that.

ELEANOR: It’s not as scary as it seems, but I think that depends on the person. Like I don’t think I get scared that easily, but that person may. Umm, I don’t know, it definitely isn’t like it is in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. Like that’s what I was thinking of when I was first moving onto a boat.

***

 

The most surprising aspect of the girls' responses is apparent to me only when I answer these questions for myself. Many of the questions I would answer similarly. But some I would answer very differently. For example, "What about cruising do you wish you could change?" They both focused on friends and extended family. I would have answered: faster internet, regular hot showers, and a fridge that opens normally. Also, I asked them whether there was a boat they've been on that they'd prefer to Del Viento. I could think of a dozen boats they might have picked, but they both agreed Del Viento was the boat for them. And who knew Santa Rosalia was such a hit? I thought the terrific Tuamotus would have earned a mention.

 

--MR

The girls aboard the home they've lived in for so
long, they think it's the best.

In the galley.