'Under the Arms of the Sky' - Book Release!

So it has been a long time since I last posted, partly because I have two small boys keeping me busy, and partly because I have been writing a book 'Under the Arms of the Sky - A Sailing Adventure'. Which is now released! 

You may think that you have read everything that we did, but there are some huge stories that never made it to the blog. And you'll just have to read the book to find out.

If you like it, share, post and recommend to family and friends. 

Check it out at:

Amazon AUS 

Amazon US

Apple ibooks

Kobo AUS

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The Epic Journey East - Sailing Video #3

A dreary day in Sydney is enough motivation to get all nostalgic. Here is the third instalment in our sailing movie series. This one gives you a 9 minute insight into what it is like to spend the best part of 1.5 months at sea while we crossed the Pacific Ocean eastbound in 2014. 

Starring the ever calm Captain Hugh, Faithful Seaman Abe and a myriad of other wonderful folks.

Enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtERNPYLYW0

24/3/2015

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The Light

You can tell where in the world you are by the light on the horizon.

The further from the equator you are, the longer the light lingers before and after breaking the surface of the horizon. When you are around the equator (plus or minus 10 degrees) you know the sun has risen because it is bearing down on you furiously and there is no safe haven except under cover. The sun is up or it is down. There are no pinkish hues or tell-tale glimmers in the clouds, it is up at 6am and is relentless until 6pm when it promptly drops, to be replaced by a pitch black and it's memory ablaze on your retinas. The age-old conundrum baffles the double handed sailing team, do you have dinner with some natural light under which to eat it (and eat ridiculously early) or eat at a reasonable time in the dark? Much time during those long ocean passages is filled with the healthy debate about what time the dinner meal should be consumed, because it inevitably leads to the first watch/sleeping shift.

View from amidship looking aft while the sky is on fire with the
sunset - The Coral Sea, PNG

As you draw away from the equator maximising your summer months, you are given some warning of the sun’s movements because of the different angle of the globe to the sun at that location. It starts with a dull grey creeping across the sky from the east at 5am until it gives way to some yellows, then light blues, pinks and the start of some golden beams as it slowly stretches its arms and lightly taps you on the shoulder to let you know that it is time to get moving. Then at night you get the reverse, the sun leaves you with a relaxing twilight in which to ponder the idea of making dinner or at least finishing up your sundowner drink before the light completely departs at about 9pm.

Sundowners and nibbles, boat life can be quite
spoilt - Pittwater NSW

You have lots of time to ponder the intricacies of the earth while you are at sea, and the role of the sun is central to every single one of those intricacies. The comfort of the sun and its light can not be underestimated, a night filled with storms or squalls can trigger the fear emotions, but a day with storms is not as frightening because you can see them coming. 

I could never get tired of watching the sun set on the ocean. It glows across the surface with waves nipping at it's circumference, then slowly dips below, distorting slightly as you bathe in it's penumbral light. There are no buildings or mountains or other obstacles to block any portion of the view as the sun does the same thing that it has done for 4.54 billion years, watch us circle around it. There is some isolating emotion that comes with the vast distance you are from any other human life and the sun is the only one to bear witness to any mysteries surrounding your whereabouts.

The sun is glimmering over the horizon behind me, reflecting pinks across the
clouds - South China Sea, Borneo

The light marks the end of the night shift and a new day, you are one more day closer to land and the routines of the sun change minutely as you travel further north or south.

26/1/2015

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The Scourge of Sailors - Seasickness

What is the cure for seasickness? In my opinion, there isn't one. The answer, is management. Everyone has an abstract cure for seasickness, believe me, I have tried every single one... to no avail. While I am slightly better now after being at sea for 20 months, I still get seasick and it is still horrible. It is just that I have medicine at the ready if things look grim and there is no end in sight for my green gills.

'A long sit under a shady tree' is an extremely effective cure, though not exactly practical for crossing an ocean. Neither is staying in the cockpit the whole time when you are one of two people on board making a passage. So my tips and tricks in order of effectiveness (in my opinion...everyone has a differing level of tolerance for seasickness):

1. No drinking the night before or during a passage. If you are prone to seasickness, this will only enhance your feelings of sea hatred once you are underway.
2. Try to have a good sleep the night before, being well rested is an amazingly powerful antidote on that first day.
3. Don't go trying to dig in the bottom of a food drawer or pack a spinnaker in the bowels of the boat while you are underway. Those tasks can wait, or your sea adept partner can look after that job this time.
4. Watching television or reading a book can be detrimental, as your eyes are fixed on one spot while your body is moving with the boat motion.
5. Avoid spending too much time down below while underway in beamy sea conditions. The lack of awareness of where and when the knocks will come disorientates the inner ear and gets that nauseous feeling pumping.
6. Try lying down in the cockpit, maximising your accessibility to fresh air, awareness of the moving of the boat (and your movement compared to the horizon) and drinking plenty of fresh water.
7. When things get dire and you have already tried eating some food with ginger in it, eating ginger tablets and generally trying to access your inner zen... and not succeeding, try some travel sickness medication. I recommend travel sickness medication with the active antihistamine ingredient of meclazine (used in the US drug bonine, travel eeze and also some generic brands) it is fast acting and very effective.

Modern medicine to the rescue - ginger tablets and fully-fledged sea sickness meds

Un-useful suggestions (in my opinion):

1. Wrist bands with pressure buttons to push on the inside of your wrists. They don't do much more than create a sore spot on the inside of your wrist due to the pressure they exude (if you want try to some I have heaps, I can send them on).
2. Anti-nausea medication. It may stop the nausea, but it wont stop the being sick action.
3. Mindful distraction. There are only so many times you can 'go to your happy place' when you are at sea for 12 days in a row.

Useful suggestions:

1. Take travel sickness medication if you feel anxious about sailing the next day (as a prophylactic). When you don't have to prepare for being seasick, the whole experience is much more pleasant.
2. I usually wait to see what the conditions will be like before taking tablets as the side effects of tiredness knock me around. If the nasty seas are only hanging around for a couple of hours, I can soldier through it.
3. Cook food ahead of your passage so it is a quick job to heat and eat and you are not spending long periods down below.
4. Certain types of sea conditions trigger seasickness for me - beamy swells, passages where we are beating and the boat is bouncing through the swell on the forequarter and confused seas where waves and wind come from all directions. Be aware of the conditions ahead of time and mentally prepare yourself.
5. Get an ipod with music or podcasts to entertain you through those rough moments. Even better, get addicted to some audio books that can fill your ears with imaginative descriptions for 300 hours!
6. On multi-day passages, you may only need medication for the first or second day, then your body is used to the motion and you don't need the tablets anymore.
7. Have lollies, crackers and small treats around. Making sure you don't get too hungry helps if your nausea is related to gaps between meal times as well.

The amount of circumnavigating sailors that we met on our trip where one or both partners sailing the boat suffered from seasickness was astounding. Despite it making us miserable, the allure of the sea is enough to keep us coming back for more punishment! If you get seasick and love the sea, don't let it stop you from seeing the amazing world beyond our shores (modern medicine is there to give you a helping hand).

11/1/2015

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Sailing Thailand and Malaysia in Review - Video #2

We are sure that you have all been waiting with baited breath for our next video instalment ...so here it is, enjoy!

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Interview with the Captain - Pacific Ocean Crossing Part III

"It’s slow. I love the slowness of the travel. I love the anticipation of arrival as you slowly draw closer to your destination."

The 9 day passage from the Solomon Islands to the Queensland Coast was a mix of dead calm, squally storms, choppy seas and then, finally the trades came and we were on the milk run home. It was time for a different way to relay the story of our passage. So here is an insight into Captain Hugh's mind, the man that keeps the engine humming, the main sail reefed and everything down below under control when the seas are up and turning my gills green.

Captain Hugh

K: So Captain Hugh, tomorrow we are due to cross our sailing path, completing the South East Asia and West Pacific loop, where we were some 16 months ago. What are your thoughts on being a captain then and now, how have you changed?

H: My first response is, has it really been 16 months? It feels like a lifetime since we last left Cairns last time. There has been some amazing up and downs hasn’t there?

K: Indeed there has.

H: It is interesting to come back to the same point with a completely different perspective on the lifestyle that we were embarking on then. I feel much more relaxed and at home in our sailing and I really only get to enjoy it more as time goes on. At the same time, I am very happy to be coming back to the familiar.

K: So after everything we have experienced, where would you like to return to on a sailing boat?

H: I think that we did not give the Pacific enough of a red-hot go. I guess part of that was that we knew we may be able come back there one day. The Solomon Islands was just a really interesting cultural experience compared to some of the places we went in Asia. I think it is just the beginning of a very large expanse of water with very interesting cultures and interesting terrain to cover.

K: You feel like it has opened your eyes to endless possibilities?

H: Without putting too many words in my mouth, I would say that that is certainly the case.

K: And where would you never like to return to in a sailing boat?

H: Ah, well, the Arafura Sea for one, the Malacca Strait for two, and I would say the doldrums in general.

K: How did that wear on you as a Captain?

H: Well, the doldrums, otherwise known as the ITCZ or the Intertropical Convergence Zone, are basically one big shitstorm.

K: A sailing quagmire.

H: [laughs] A sailing quagmire of light winds and thunderstorms and variable pulling in and taking out of sail and putting them back in again in rapid succession. And it is just not really necessary.

K: Sailing can be more fun than that.

H: It can. Like this weather now.

K: It is really quite beautiful.

As Hugh gazes out across the port deck to look toward the horizon unobstructed to see crystal clear water where the sky meets it at the horizon. It is hard to see the difference between the two because the of the richness in each of the blues blend to become one.

K: So what is the highlight for you for travelling by a boat? As compared to other means?

H: It’s slow. I love the slowness of the travel. I love the anticipation of arrival as you slowly draw closer to your destination. I love the feeling of connection to the past. And the natural nature of your locomotion.

K: Connected with nature?

H: Indeed.

K: So what have you learned from taking a trip like this?

H: I have learnt that life is wonderful, you have to grab it by both hands to see what is out there. That your fear about the future and uncertainty should be thrown aside if you are ever to experience what is out here.

K: We are about to make the once hazardous crossing through the Australian Great Barrier Reef. What are your thoughts about the sailors and explorers of yesteryear?

Hugh takes a breath and a glint shines in his eyes and he takes himself to another time, one where engines did not exist and when sailing relied entirely on the weather and boats would sometimes bob around in the doldrums for weeks on end waiting for a puff of wind to drive them through. Certainly the navigators were using all their senses like smell, changes in wind patterns and ocean colours to identify when they were drawing closer to land as there were no maps to speak of.

H: I am very glad that you asked that question, the explorers were, in a word, sublime. We are about to pass through the reef in a place called the Grafton Passage, and it is only 100nm south of the famous Endeavour Reef where Captain Cook ran the boat aground while trying to navigate this set of reefs. Looking at the map today it is hard to imagine any of the sailors made it up this coast. And it just goes to show the exceptional ability of the sailors of these times to be able to navigate such a large section of reef and the willingness to continue on even though it seems as though they were going down a dead end that would never release them. It was a very dangerous journey that Captain Cook made up the east coast and an amazing feat of the leadership of his men to keep them motivated through that passage. I cannot imagine how I would keep 200 feisty, strong, and sometimes reticent men under control, when you yourself did not really know what was around the corner or how long it would be before bringing them home.

K: Trying experience no doubt.

H: Yeah. I only have one reticent lady aboard to keep under control. And that’s enough for me.

K: Control?

H: Well control is the wrong word.

K: Hmm.

K: Well, we are about to come home to Australia and have travelled some 7000nm, in what will end up being a 20 month expedition, starting and ending in our home town of Sydney. What do you think of the trip that was dreamt up over a bottle of wine and a book about someone else’s world cruising voyage over 2 years ago.

H: I think it is the best idea you ever had.

K: Surely it was not my idea, you supplanted it.

H: I had nothing to do with it, I was dragged along.

K: Against your will and better judgement.

K: So I guess you are saying that it was worth it.

H: It was certainly worth it.

K: Giving most of your worldly possessions up and your grip on reality in Sydney?

H: Who needs any of that?

K: The final question is, we have learned that it is pretty unusual for people our age to embark on a trip like this. Any comments for any budding young cruisers out there?

H: Do it! Just do it. It may seem really scary. I know that careers and all these things that people are attached to in the so called ‘real world’ are a heavy burden to throw off sometimes and it can feel like you may be disadvantaging yourself, but honestly even though I do not have a job just yet, I have no qualms about finding work again and if anything it has brought me back far more motivated than I could have been by staying in Sydney. Yeah, just do it.

28/10/2014

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The Big Blue - Pacific Ocean Crossing, Part I

We had been held hostage in Palau by the US Postal Service for too long, despite not receiving our package – a new inverter, our visa stamps told us it was time to go. After indulging in a huge variety of western foods, loads of spectacular diving and getting to know the cruisers who had washed ashore here and might never leave, we packed our clean washing, bid a hearty farewell to Sam's Tours and the Royal Belau Yacht Club and headed for the east passage.

Contrary to the weather forecasts that we were reading before leaving Palau, we were rocketing south and east and within 2 days we were being treated like royalty by the sea and enjoying the 2 kt east setting current at 40 degrees longitude. Combine this counter current (so named because it runs opposite to the predominant current which sets slowly with the west bound trade winds) with 15-20kts of westerly winds and we were making an amazing 160nm a day which helped lift our spirits on this 2000nm journey to the Solomon Islands. The trip was not without its perils though; we were sailing through a low-pressure system that was forming into a tropical low further north. This meant that we were experiencing lots of squalls, some that we could see forming hours in advance and others that had the rigging singing before we know what was upon us. Most packed some hefty winds of up to 35kts, with rain and then they whipped up the seas often creating some mighty uncomfortable swell conditions. We used the wind vane steering feature on our auto pilot which made for some seriously lazy sailing, as our rudder would turn the boat when the wind shifted (which was extremely often and up to 1800 in the squally conditions) so we didn't have to continually gybe, which was handy when only one of us was on watch.

We spent the first few days getting into some sort of rhythm, with our 3 hour rotating shifts. It was certainly hard to wake up at 4am in a squall to take the helm. But there were bright features like the unspoilt sunrises, light glimmering on the horizon for the first time and spreading a pink blush with each minute that passed. We also had 'Ginger Beard' pay us a visit – a small brown finch with a burnt orange chest that sat on our jib block 400nm from the nearest land to have a snooze. He didn't like it much when I went to pat him and gave me a little nip on the finger. But we talked of the weather and philosophy together nonetheless. He bemoaned the strong westerly wind that kept him from traveling in that direction and I explained the synoptic chart. He nodded and chirped along. And it was a balm to a lonely soul to have such a visitor on those long solo shifts. These sea birds are such amazing creatures. To be able to survive that far from land when they were obviously not sea hunting birds and could not gain nourishment from diving for and eating fish.

The sky ablaze for a spectacular sunset

At 2am on day 5 the heavens opened and sent a torrent of rain that would have had Noah running for his raincoat and gumboots. The rain turned our deck into a swimming pool, ably caught to fill our water tanks. The 6 hour long deluge ended and took with it our spirits and the wind. But as the grey day emerged we saw that we had chipped away at our total passage distance by almost one third.

Day 6 marked the end of our fresh beef stores, we had been spoiling ourselves with beef stews, curries and stroganoff, the memory of Palau lingering. The morning was wet and windy, and spirits may have been dark indeed if not for a visit by Ginger Beard and his girlfriend Red. They snuggled on the captain's seat and got some shuteye after their long journey. After their rest they were quite sociable and we had pats and they sat on my finger. Quite sweet really.

Ginger beard, docile and enjoying a back scratch

Through the driving rain I could see a pod of dolphins having a right party in our bow wave and the swell. I imagine they did not want to pop their noses out of the ocean for too long, otherwise they might get a cold from the rain. The sea temperature was 29C, while the rain and wind made for a nippy time out of our nice protected cockpit.

Conditions? Well we had some reasonable swell, up to 3m and buffeting us from any which angle. It made for an uncomfortable trip and had me slinking into corners with a green tinge taking notable shape on my face. Hugh's long hours of studying the historical weather patterns and daily viewing of the counter current location on the US NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) website had really paid its dues. Averaging 6 kts of boat speed plus 2-3kts of favourable current meant that we were getting through the long isolated ocean part of the journey at pace. The wind was always blowing, at between 10-20kts, but the direction varied almost by the minute. Relying on our wind vane steering made life a bit easier.

Day 8 saw the end of the low pressure system and therefore the strong winds. The wind was being extremely temperamental and only routing near squally storms could we gain some wind to propel us forward. The wind was so light and variable that the sails would flap and the boom would bang, while the chop from the swell would roll the boat from side to side. The easing up of the wind did not correlate to a more comfortable ride. So using the motor we would make some distance and sail when the wind decided to join us. We were also slowly making a bit of southerly heading and were approaching the unattractive equator and its notoriously hot and wind-free conditions.

A few fish caught made for some lovely fresh dinners and I managed to stay below long enough to cook a cake one day which we gobbled up with custard and canned peaches. Meal times were definitely a punctuation point in the day and something to look forward to. Unfortunately while attempting to make little Spanish mackerel crumbed nuggets my hand got splashed by some jumping boiling oil and I spent the next few hours in the cockpit with an ice pack on my hand, thankfully barely a mark was there within a couple of days.

So what did we do to pass the time? Well, I was engrossed in the Harry Potter series on audio, while Hugh was lost in the 18th Century aboard some historical ships while listening to the Patrick O'Brian nautical series on audio as well. He would wander about the boat and make random ye olde English sayings, raising top-gallant sails and accusing me of being a (land) lubber at times when a sheet was not pulled just so. The start of the sail was too rough to do anything more taxing than listen to music or books. As the time wore on I was able to spend more time below making some tasty meals. 5pm marked the daily 'sundowners' event, which for me consisted of soda and cordial, while Hugh had a cold beer. With the sun down, it was time for our daily emails via the HF. So I stayed up top and steered while Hugh patiently worked the propagation on the radio to try and get a signal so we could receive weather and other inspiring messages from land folk. Hughs sister was sending us daily quirky and funny quotes from English literature from yesteryear which was always a great read.

On day 10 we bid the counter current adieu as it began to sweep northeast, weakening before disappearing below the surface entirely. Unfortunately our daily miles had dropped significantly to around the 100nm mark. The wind was still being fluky, but we were strategically planning our proposed arrival at Kapingamarangi Atoll, 250nm from the nearest atoll and 400nm from its mother-state island of Pohnpei (part of the Federate States of Micronesia), to ensure that we arrived at the best time of the day to make the tricky reef entry without incident. The atoll is a roughly squashed circular shape, an encircled lagoon ringed by reef with spotted sand bars located 1.5m above the high tide mark. We had some pretty poor information about the place and our maps left a lot to be desired.

The full moon and a spring tide would make for ideal entry conditions to the lagoon and on Day 12 we were 25nm away at 7am. It was a steady sail north to the atoll and we were getting very excited and apprehensive about our intended stopping point. We did not know if the locals were friendly (and were hoping not to have the 'welcoming' given to some Spanish explorers to the region – where they were all killed) or even if our boat would be able to cross the reef entry. But we thought we ought to give it a shot and visit one of the most isolated places on earth. Land-ho! It crept from below the horizon 8nm away; tall, dense groupings of trees, our anticipation mounting. Once we got closer we were faced with a long line of breaking waves over a shallow reef boundary (enough to give a sailor a nervous twitch). But then we spotted the channel, a route through the coral boundary that had been blasted to allow the entry of the tri-yearly cargo ship. Some nervous moments and we had made it through the channel, we were in the lagoon!

1200nm, 12 days at sea and this was our first sighting of land. Paradise found!

10/9/2014

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for information see: http://www.sailmail.com

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Staying Connected

Keeping in touch with friends and family and getting information is harder than when living on land. Sometimes it can be your only contact with the outside world. Sometimes it keeps you sane and importantly, safe!

We knew that it would be important to be able to obtain regular weather information while we were at sea. It would be paramount when on passages as we would be outside of internet, mobile phone and often VHF radio (short distance radio) contact of anyone. When you are 3 days from land, it is heartening to know that you are not sailing straight into the storm of the century or that you should get moving because one is nipping at your heels. We were lucky that our boat had recently been used for blue water cruising and that the gear was reasonably up-to-date.

Ever since Guglielmo Marconi made the first transmission from Galway to Newfoundland in 1901, sailors have been making use of radio communication. Harnessing technology honed in the first and second World Wars, the High Frequency radio (HF, known as Single Side Band to our US friends) is reliable and a great communication tool for remote travellers.

Our boat already had a HF radio fitted, enabling us to contact people via radio sometimes hundreds of miles away, the only requirement was that the recipient also had an HF radio with a suitable receiving antenna. This meant that we could contact the Volunteer Marine Rescue (VMR) stations in Queensland and Charleville Radio (a large radio installation in inland Australia) if we were in serious trouble and were making a mayday call. The boat also had fitted a Pactor modem which enabled data, in very V E R Y slow increments to be emailed from our computer via the HF radio. We signed up to a great service managed out of the United States called Sail Mail. This organisation asks for a yearly subscription fee of $250 and in return connects us to its myriad of receiving stations throughout the world to send our messages on, even when we are thousands of miles from land or another boat.

The excitement of receiving email while at sea is hard to compete with!

Our Sailmail subscription also included connection to a weather service operated by saildocs. The information in the weather messages was drawn from historical data as well as current high and low pressure systems building, so the weather predictions were extremely accurate (on the Australian east coast) where there is high monitoring of conditions and less so in area where there was minimal monitoring (most of Asia). We would review weather predictions up to 3 weeks ahead of a passage to see what was trending and also if there was anything changing that could show signs of dangerous weather. The crossings of the Gulf of Carpenteria and the Arafura Sea were great examples of very strong weather systems moving through (driven by the trade winds), but while they were strong they were consistent and we were able to pick our windows to make the safe crossings. Generally we would receive daily and 5 day forecasts while we were in northern Indonesia, because once again, we were experiencing some very strong wind and sea conditions on a daily basis.

So we were able to gain some reliable weather information via the sailmail service. The weather packages come in a concise file (known as a GRIB file) and it takes some practice to understand what the symbols and colours all mean, but the darker the colour and the more ticks on the wind arrows mean a stronger weather system. When there is little wind, I would call the picture an image of ‘pick-up sticks’ because it was just a collection of sticks dropped in no discernible pattern...the only humour I could find at times like those.

weather file - the picture on the left shows 'stuff all wind' with light blue
colouring, the picture on the right shows a tropical low bringing 40kt
winds shown with the darker red colouring and multiple ticks on the
direction arrows

We also regularly sent messages to family via the HF mail system to let them know we were ok. The service was limited, as it only sent text data (no pictures or attachments) and we only had a certain number of minutes per week. This restriction could be excruciating as the modem runs at the speed of your old household dial up system (complete with the sounds) circa 1997 and it could take up to 30 minutes to get the right connection on the HF radio dial, dodging through used frequencies and interference. This could be extremely frustrating when you are pinned into the nav station while the weather outside is throwing the boat around and inducing some serious seasickness.

Most of our time in Indonesia the Internet was inadequate to send emails, so we relied on the HF mail service even when we were in port. As we moved west to Malaysia, Thailand and then north to the Philippines we were able to get reliable internet coverage. We bought SIM cards in each country  (sometimes multiple cards because the company coverage varied depending on our location) at a rate of about $7 a week we could be on email, Skype and Facebook and be speaking to friends and family as if we were just around the corner. We also subscribed to the Australian Governments ‘smart traveller’ email system which sends out security alerts for the places you have signed up for. This would be useful to know if there was political strife in a country/ island that we were about to travel to, ahead of time. But getting used to this kind of connectivity was going to be interesting in the months ahead as we spent up to 20 days at sea at a time with nothing but HF mail and our salt crazed imaginations for company.

The BBC World Service is also broadcast for 2 hours each day (1 hour in the morning and 1 hour in the evening) which we could pick up on the HF radio in South East Asia. So we were able to keep in tune with events of the outside world. It was interesting how much I looked forward to these 1 hour segments, often just to listen to the strange special stories that their reporters submerged themselves in. As we did not have access to local television, this was as close as we got to any kind of news stream. While we were in Malaysia, we were lucky enough to be able to tune into English language radio stations on the FM radio, however this was usually pop music and information targeted at the lowest common denominator. Once we made it further east to the Pacific, we could hear the Australian news and stories booming in over Radio Australia. Initially it was really interesting to hear people on remote Pacific Islands telling their stories, until the Australian Federal Government cuts to the ABC meant that the segments were all but eliminated and replaced with Radio National stories. Reasonably interesting for us as we were missing a bit of Australiana, but I imagine less interesting to the islanders who were their intended listenership.

While we were in the company of other boats we would use our VHF radio to stay in contact when within 20nm of each other. We used this regularly when we were travelling for a passage to make sure everyone is still ok and to keep track of anyone who was having trouble or would be arriving later than expected. All boats sail at different speeds depending on the sail configuration, the design of the boat and those sailing it, so more often than not there could be between 1-2 days varying in arrival times of different boats at a harbour for a 400nm passage. Other ways to stay in touch for longer passages would be to use the HF radio at scheduled times on pre-arranged channels (referred to as a ‘net’) to catch up on everyones whereabouts and also to forward weather information if necessary. When we were sailing in April from Sydney to Darwin, we ‘met’ cruisers on the net that were 1000nm ahead of us giving tips on good anchorages and weather systems they had experienced. We did not meet some of the voices on this net for 3 months until we arrived in Darwin at the great Woodstock of cruising in July. This informal radio relationship gave us a great opportunity to meet other cruisers who had 20,000nm of experience as they had already sailed half-way around the world and could help us learn the tips of the cruiser life.

We opted out of the SatPhone option providing phone and internet contact while at sea, connecting you to satellite systems. The initial outlay is quite expensive and because we already had the HF radio we were well covered for that kind of communication. We do know other people who have SatPhones and think they are great and very reliable, but you do pay for the convenience.

Via our sailmail we were able to send a position report to another group called YoTreps who logged all of our positions and placed them on a map, so that our family and friends could see our location. That was always a nice feature because people often don’t know where Taka Bonerate in Indonesia is, so putting a pin on a map made the information more visual. There were a number of bugs in the system and Hugh decided that he wanted to make a better platform for us to report our location and got busy coding. After many hours tapping away at the keyboard and some involvement of our friends as handy guineapigs, keelscape has become our new way of mapping our location.

So for budding cruisers out there we highly recommend sailmail over the HF radio and meeting other like minded cruisers on radio nets, because what else have you got to do while in passage but have a chat on the radio? Also try this website for logging your position and keeping your family notified of your location.

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