We are celebrating two months aboard One World with Shore Leave! The past week we have traveled throughout Puerto Rico, enjoying the rain forests, Old San Juan, and the Arecibo Observatory, the largest radio telescope in the world. We are driving a real car (not a golf cart) and putting on the miles. We are filling our belly's with familiar food from Chili's, McDonald's, and KFC. We plan to top it off with a cherry from a visit to Cold Stone Creamery! Of course, no shore leave would be complete without spending the night off the boat. Waterpark hotel, here we come!
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We arrived in Ponce, Puerto Rico in mid-morning after a smooth passage overnight. As we approached the dock, we were greeted by a father and son aboard another catamaran. They took our lines, tied us up, and invited us over for a potluck dinner that evening. Later in the day, we joined Dave and Kimberly, as well as another couple, Rudy and Ellena, for great food and wine. Dave and Kimberly are former yacht captain and crew having sailed most parts of the world in all kinds of weather. Rudy is a retired Dutch police officer and Elena is from Serbia.
We talked all evening, sharing stories and enjoying each others company. There was a connection, a sense of similar values and culture. We were making fast friends and it felt good. The night came to a close with hugs, thanks, and anticipation of more time together tomorrow.
I knew this would not last forever. Our weather window to get to the next port was closing. It was time to move on. At 3:00AM that morning, we silently slipped away from the dock and back in to the open ocean heading east. We never had a chance to say a formal goodbye to Dave, Kimberly, Rudy, or Elena. Relationships on the ocean are made overnight and disappear in an instant.
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Last week, we were blessed with the company of the Kneeland family, close friends from Wisconsin. Our final moment together was touching, the Kneeland boys running along the breakwater shouting back and forth to Max and Solomon. Tim standing at the end of the breakwater, taking photos and calling out farewells for the last time. Ahead of us lay a dark horizon of water, behind us the sun hung low in the sky over the warm Dominican coast.
Earlier in the afternoon, while preparing the boat for departure, Tim handed me a thick envelope, requesting that I open it once at sea. A few hours into the passage, with the kids comfortably inside the cabin, Kim and I cuddled together in the aft cockpit to open the surprise. Inside, we found letters from each of the Kneelands, Tim, Lori, Alexander (14), Connor (12), Quinn (12) and Kemily (7). As we read, tears came to our eyes. The letters described their experiences, the challenges, and the impact the trip has had on them.
I often forget how different our lives are now that we are at sea. Everyday brings a new challenge, a new culture, and new relationships. Yet, deep down inside me, I long for the familiar. The familiarity of a shared culture, values, and experiences. The Kneelands brought that familiarity (and much more) with them on their visit. We will miss them.
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We left the Domincian yesterday at 6pm, waving good bye to the Kneeland family as we continue east over the horizon. This would be another calm night passage, across the Mona Strait, to Puerto Rico. We shared dinner together around the table in the back cockpit as the sun slipped below horizon. Kim stood watch from 9PM to midnight. She awoke me early, as there was heavy ship traffic moving through the area. I settled in comfortably to my watch, dozing off now and then, only to be awakened by the alarm I set every twenty minutes. I watch the ships pass in the night, slow moving blobs on the radar, transforming into dim lights moving across the horizon.
"Pon Pon, Pon Pon, Pon Pon" "This is coast guard station San Juan" screams from the radio. " We have received a report of a vessel in distress, position 18 39.0N, 069 57.W. Vessel has been struck by another vessel" "All vessels in the vacinity should assist."
The peace of the night has been shatterred. A sailboat, no different than mine, has been run down by a freighter no more than 50 miles from my position. Over the next 3 hours, I listen as the coast gaurd mobilizes a helocopter and multiple rescue boats. The stricken vessel reports that they are demasted and have sustained injuries, yet the boat itself is intact. They shoot flares to assist the rescue teams in pinpointing their position. Another sailboat reaches the scene first, followed by the helocopter, and a rescue boat. I can hear the coast guard pilot communicating with the base, but am unable to hear the voices of the injured couple as their radio has limited power. Ultimately, the wife was removed from the vessel, while the husband chose to remain aboard, hoping to save what he could of the damaged boat.
As the sun now rises before me, the incident is a stark reminder of the dangers of the sea, the need to be always be prepared, and the courage to survive.
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The Lord make His face to shine upon you
And give you peace
And give you peace
The Lord make His face to shine upon you
And be gracious, unto you
The Lord be gracious, and give you peace
Love you!
coops
After sailing for the past month, I forget how accustom my family has become to our new life on the boat. Over the past week, through the eyes of our friends, I have seen a different perspective. Tim shared with me a video of Ela, playing peacefully alone in the main salon, while in the background of the shot, as seen through the salon windows, changes from sky to sea repeatedly. Tim shared a story of Solomon working with him to retrieve a hose nozzle that had slipped deep into the hull. Solomon hopped up, opened a few hatches, climbed down into the engine room, and fished the nozzle back up through the deck opening. After our last passage, with our guests aboard, some of whom were puking, Max exclaimed in private that it was one of the smoothest passages to date. And Lely, every morning, coming out of her cabin, with school books in hand, ready to get on with her day. I am sure these are just a few of glimpses of our changes while at sea. I can't wait to see more!
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Have you ever seen a Moonbow? I am not exactly sure what you call it, a rainbow caused by the moon. Last night, we were on a night passage from Samana, on the northeast end of the Dominican Republic, to Cap Cana on the far east end of the island. Tim Kneeland and I shared the night watches, while everyone else slept below. Around 1AM, rain began to appear on the radar. Ahead, through the moonlight, we could see large billowing clouds with dark streaks below them. We pulled in our blankets and cushions and huddled under the bimini for protection. The rain lasted a few minutes, passing quickly to our stern. The moon now stood full in front of us, lighting our path. As I turned to head below, I look behind us to see a beautiful Moonbow across the sky. We woke a few of the crew to share in the moment. For me, it was another beautiful moment at sea. I love this life.
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