Most of us are citizens of the world wide web - a planet with no borders. But in the physical world there truly is a line that splits the globe into two sections: the northern and southern hemispheres. Some say it is an imaginary line. But for mariners it is very real. Once the line is crossed we northerners lose site of the North Star, that pole star that has anchored our night sky and fixed our position on the planet. Instead we'll have the Southern Cross. In the Southern Hemisphere, weather systems circulate in the opposite direction making the 'dangerous' side of the storm opposite of what we have experienced up until now. Good stuff to know! Much fuss, therefore, is made about sailing across this important line. We mere mortals earn the coveted title of 'shellback' and it is customary to throw a party in honor of King Neptune.

The guest of honor, King Neptune does not always grant an appearance for these ceremonies, forgoing the company of most shower and laundry deprived cruisers. But he does make the occasional appearance and, if the offering is top shelf,"cutting that salty taste will bring me around."

As Pacific Hwy approaches the equator, we are sailing in the most perfect conditions: 10-15 knot breeze on the beam, almost flat sea conditions, and all on board happily embracing "the sailor's life for me!" Now pomp and ceremony are what we humanoids crave (in fact, I think a truly pagan ritual TV series would eclipse American Idol and all that other stuff). But with no virgins on board and only sail cloth for costumes, we opted to celebrate with a good splash of our best rum and a few grateful words to the King. We offer thanks to our loved ones (yes, Mother, there is a payout for daydreaming through algebra class) and pour a healthy dose of Mount Gay Eclipse Barbados Rum into the sea.

A tremendous vortex of seawater suddenly appears alongside our tiny speck of a boat in this watery expanse, turning our gaiety into pants peeing alarm. A specter encrusted with black pearls, flamingo tongues, and with garden eels peering out from trailing bull kelp erupts into the cockpit revealing a rather gruff looking merman. So seeing IS believing. What do you say when Mr. Neptune himself lands on your deck. Welcome aboard, SIR? His presence was comparable to a customs officer - you want to be as cordial and tactful as possible because this guy can take it all away. A humbling experience.

Past charter guests have nicknamed me "Capt. Probably" as that was my general response to their inquiries about sailing (i.e. you are 'probably' the best charter guests we've ever had. This is 'probably' the best week of sailing we've ever had.) King Neptune's appearance is probably the most awesome thing that has happened on this trip.

So I ask the Ocean Dude if I can make a toast to him with some more rum. "What else would I be doing here", was his rather taciturn response. "We watery folk are partial to that Mt. Gay and I see you got plenty in that bottle." As I poured a stiff one into his conch shell I asked if he visits all the boats that sail across the equator." Well, to be honest, I'm pretty sick of all those pirate theme parties and usually avoid them. I'd like to have a word with that actor, Johnny Depp - you know, the guy who calls himself Jack Sparrow. Now there's a dime store pirate if ever I saw one. Sterling Hayden, he was the real deal!"

I'm thinking, well that covers the arts. What should we talk about next? I want to thank him for the great ride we've had so far on our trip from Mexico and put in a word about our future sailing plans. But Neptune was beginning to look like a fish out of water and he mumbled something about a lot of other boats crossing the line today and his other obligations. I thanked him for the chat and said that I would always keep Mt. Gay rum on board for him and hoped we could meet again in perhaps another ocean. He said he would remember the rum, but mostly my charming wife. And he gave me one stern warning before departing, "Nice boat. Don't let me catch you putting her on yacht transport. Either you're a sailor or a tourist!" With that, he splashed away leaving a heavy trail of slime on the boat that I am still trying to clean up. And that was the end of our first equatorial crossing and our first sail into the Southern Hemisphere.