First week with my lightly used Maserati has been quite an adventure. Spoiler alert; I still love my new ride enough to give (her? him? they?) a name, Chianti.

I picked Chianti up from Reina International, my Italian brothers, a week ago, Thursday. She was stored there while I was sailing on Uproar. Ignazio installed a straight X-pipe to replace the heavy and power robbing center muffler. She now has a sweet growl but nowhere near loud voice.

Doug called me and asked if I was interested in driving to Indianapolis to watch the eclipse. I was mildly interested.
“Russ, I have an ulterior motive for asking. Judy is in Indy visiting our new grandson and I would like a ride to join her. It would be a waste to have two cars there. You can visit Larry, watch the eclipse and watch Purdue games with Larry.”

That all sounded great, I readily agreed to drive. Larry said the visit would be fine and we planned to drive there Saturday, in time for Purdue’s “final four” NCAA game. Larry and I were college room mates and have remained close friends. Larry and I have sailed together, gone to Purdue football games together, sung fraternity songs together, gone to MotoGP races together and of course, enjoyed craft beer together. Larry is an expert and my mentor for craft beer, something sadly lacking in the Caribbean.

“Are you going to drive the Maserati?” Larry goaded me with a few texts. I decided I would drive Chianti around Thursday and Friday and see if she was up to the trip. All went well and Saturday morning I picked up Doug and his little dog, Coco.

We had an uneventful drive to Indy. Chianti is a very sweet car. She has a comfortable interior and the ride of a grand touring car. But when I twitch my right foot, she gets up and goes! With 400 hp, she has almost double the hp of the many Alfa Romeos I have owned. Another surprise was the steering. Driving straight down the road, she steers like any other car. Tight steering for sure but smooth, not twitchy. But when I turn into a corner, the steering ratio changes and she darts into the corner. A bit surprising and really fun!

We arrived in Indy, dropped Doug and Coco off and proceeded to Larry and Mary’s house. Purdue won the game that night! Go Boilers!

Sunday was craft beer day. Mike Kazkoff, “Kaz,” also a Theta Chi brother joined us at Guggman Haus. This brew pub resides in an extensively restored racing garage run by Wilbur Shaw in the 30’s through 50’s. Wilbur Shaw won the Indy 500 several times including back-to-back wins in 1939 and 1940. There was a room in the building with the transport truck they used for the race car. The famous Boyle Racing car was in another museum but there were plenty of pictures of it. It was a Maserati! Karma, great craft beer and great friends!

Monday’s eclipse would occur mid-afternoon. Larry invited his son’s family over for a backyard BBQ and viewing. We had been driving Chianti around doing errands with the top down on a beautiful spring day. Larry’s 9 yo grandson wanted to sit in it. “No problem help yourself.”

The eclipse was surreal. It got eerily quiet and cool as the moon blocked the sun. Birds quit singing. We watched with protective glasses until the eclipse was total. The sun’s corona was just beautiful. As the sun started to peak back out, there was a flash known as the diamond in the ring. It reminded me of the green flash we see often in the Caribbean but without the green color.

We enjoyed the BBQ and backyard games, good old-fashion hot dogs and of course, craft beer. Larry’s family left and I took a nap, preparing for the late evening, NCAA final game. Before the game, I decided to put Chianti’s top up. Ooops, the battery was dead and Chianti sat sullenly silent.

No problem, we would call AAA in the morning for a jump. It wasn’t supposed to rain that night.

The AAA guy showed up, connected a jump box and Chianti fired right up. When the jump box was removed, she died. We determined Chianti was charging just fine but the battery was totally fried. We kept the jump box connected so I could put the top back up. I closed the windows and then Chianti tried to kill me!

It was like something out of a Stephen King novel. The seat kept moving forward, both the seat bottom and seat back. I worked the seat controls frantically but Chianti had a mind of her own. I was pinned against the steering wheel and couldn’t move. Larry messed with the seat buttons but Chianti wouldn’t loosen her grip! I struggled and was able to slide out toward the passenger seat. The seat back then proceeded all the way to the steering wheel.

The AAA guy was as shocked as we were. Then we noticed that dreaded, burning electrical smell! I shut off the car and disconnected the seat fuse. While Chianti ran perfectly, there was no way I could get that seat back in position. I looked at switching seats with the passenger seat. It would be easy to remove the passenger seat but with the driver’s seat all the way forward, there was no access to the screws. I was screwed!

Larry and I drove his Alfa Romeo to Costco for a new battery. The seat still would not budge. It was late morning and I called Doug to see if he and Judy were still in Indy. They had just started back to Milwaukee and were 20 minutes away. “Stop, please get off the highway, I need a ride back!”

Larry drove me to the Starbucks where they graciously waited for me. We had eclipse choked traffic back to Milwaukee. Doug is also an engineer and we discussed just what to do with my vengeful Maserati. I decided to either have her shipped back or rent a Uhaul and pick her up. Once back in Milwaukee, I would have time to figure out just what to do with that seat.

I spent a few days getting Vana White’s brakes working properly for the trip to Indy. Vana is my $1000 Ford E350 cargo van with close to a lunar on the odometer. A lunar is the distance to the moon, about 240,000 miles! She runs pretty well but is kinda rough, just the type of van we warn our children to avoid! Vana is safe though. I have a beanie baby hanging from the mirror to make the kids more comfortable.

Doug messaged me that he found, on the internet, a procedure for resetting the Maserati seat controlling computer. Open the door and quickly push the seat button forward, back, forward and back again. I drove Vana and a heavy-duty trailer to Indy, and tried the reset. It worked. The seat worked perfectly, Chianti started up and drove just fine.

Larry and I loaded Chianti on the trailer and strapped her down. I wasn’t at all upset. It’s just a bit of slope on the learning curve.

Vana White is a tank. She hauled the trailer and Chianti back home with no drama. She has a rear-view camera. I got to see a beautiful, red car follow me home. In spite of the 600-mile round trip, I was in good spirits. My van was a trooper and my fully functioning Maserati followed.

Yesterday I was driving Chianti on some errands. I adjusted the rear-view mirror down slightly. I jumped to the sound of two electric motors also adjusting the side mirrors slightly down. Chianti clearly has some more surprises in store for me.

If there is a moral to the story, it is probably not to let a 9 yo boy sit in an Italian exotic car unsupervised. But I sure don’t blame him. Chianti has a mind of her own. I will work at staying on her good side.

For once, I’m a bit of a loss for words. But I’ll try.

This morning, I looked out the back of Uproar and 2K was anchored right behind me. Kjell and his crew Barbara, had just crossed their track this morning, completing his dream of a circumnavigation!

I hadn’t seen Kjell since January 2021 when he and Kaia helped load Uproar on Yacht Transport in Tahiti. We said goodbye and took a cab to the airport. Uproar was taking the scenic route and arrived in Fort Lauderdale in March.

I hate to bring up the dreaded Covid thing but Lisa and I decided since countries west (New Zealand, Australia, etc) were still locked down, we would ship Uproar back to the US where we knew we could cruise in the Bahamas and had more certainty of the future.

Kjell and Kaia sailed to Fiji and mothballed 2K for several years. They flew back to Norway where it was discovered that Kaia had a blood cancer. After extensive treatment, Kaia passed. We still mourn her loss.

Kjell returned to 2K determined to continue his voyage. With several crew, he continued sailing to New Zealand, Australia, Indonesia, Africa, French Guyana and just today, Bequia where he crossed his path from about six years ago.

9:00 this morning, I dinghied a bottle of champagne over, “You don’t have to drink it now.”

Barbara replied, “We have already had beer and tequila, let’s open that sucker.” We did!

We had a special relationship with 2K. We were both in “Hotel California” the Tahiti airport anchorage for two months of lockdown. After, we sailed an extra year in French Polynesia, waiting for the world to acknowledge it had over-reacted to Covid and let us continue to sail. We spent that entire year with 2K and had many adventures. One that Kjell and I talked about briefly this morning was our month in Mopelia, a remote Polynesian atoll where only 20 people lived. It was like a set from a movie, we were treated like visiting royalty. OK, Kjell and I did set about fixing outboard motors, the clutch in their community truck and patched three leaking boats. We went for night hunts for coconut crabs in the jungle and drank their “local beer” made from rainwater, yeast and sugar!

Congratulations Kjell for bringing 2K around the world. I’m honored to join you in the celebration and even better to see you after more than three years. The cruising community is a small one indeed!

Last year I anchored in Jolly Harbor, Antigua. A few hours later a British boat anchored nearby. He yelled over, "Am I too close?"

I replied, "We could fit three French boats between us." He doubled over with laughter.

I resist stereotyping but (yes, we smell a butt coming) French sailors do not have a considerable reputation. I have met some delightful ones but the stereotype does not occur in a vacuum.

One British sailor told me, "The British outfit their boats to go cruising. The French go cruising to outfit their boats." Yes, he was saying the French steal from other boats. I have had this happen to me! A French sailor stole my dinghy oars.

Back to the present. I was anchored in St. Anne, a huge anchorage often with several hundred boats. A French boat anchored right next to me. Now I'm pretty tolerant of this. As long as we don't hit.... This guy was not going to hit Uproar as we swung at the hook but it was damn close. I gestured and in my pigeon French said, "Pourquoi? Un grand lak labat." I pointed to the huge, open space behind me. I received a Gaelic shrug.

After four days, I became tired of almost hitting his boat as the wind dwindled in the evenings.

I'm a huge Janis Joplin fan. I admit some of her songs are a bit harsh but I love her passion and message.

Sidebar: Ladies, Janis sings a lot about what men want and need. She is clear that men just want a little sugar and sweet, loving momma. Advice I have given my daughters. Forget about that Chinese basket thing you saw on Myspace. That's all we need. Just hold their head against your chest, give it a soft rub and tell them what a sweet boy they are. Guys, do the EXACT same thing. But for those engineers out there, please change the "sweet boy" to "sweet girl."

But that probably didn't translate well in French when I blasted my JVC Bluetooth speaker on the side of the boat toward my French neighbor. He moved! Proof positive that he WAS too close.

Dirt dwellers (non-cruisers) often ask the same three questions. Aren’t you afraid of storms, sharks and pirates. Storms, yes we have been in more than a few but know how to handle them. Sharks are rare in the Caribbean but we have encountered a few in the Bahamas. All docile. In French Polynesia, about 90% of the time you are in the water, there are sharks around. They are everywhere, Blacktip, Whitetip and Grey sharks are the most common. Nurse sharks are in some areas. You get used to them and they are a treat to see.

But pirates I always say are an urban myth. Sure there are some incidents but not where we sail and we are not afraid. Now we have a disturbing pirate encounter in the very waters I sailed yesterday.

I have had messages from quite a few friends expressing concern for me, sailing in the area where two American sailors were hijacked by three escapees from a Grenada prison. Details are not clear but somehow, these three boarded the boat of this unsuspecting American couple, sailed their boat to St. Vincent and killed the two and threw them overboard. Again, details are not clear but the three confessed to killing the Americans.

The internet and specific FB groups for this area are abuzz. Many are calling for increased diligence and precautions. Just what could these sailors have done to prevent this attack? It was a bizarre, tragic and spectacularly frightening situation.

I have a long-standing attitude that I consider that anyone who approaches me has nothing but friendly intentions. I admit to being naïve at times but this policy has served me well. I have met and made the most wonderful friends in places Uproar has taken me.

The few times someone has been a bit aggressive, I have an app for that. I sing Bob Marley, “Redemption Song” at the top of my lungs. They either think I’m crazier than they are or sing along with me. Fun and works every time. You should try it. “Ole pirates yes they rob I, stole I from the merchant ship…..”

As tragic as this incident was, it in no way colors my view of these gently and beautiful people. Sure, there are bad ones but I can’t spend any energy worrying about them.

Worry is like paying interest on a debt you may never owe.

It didn’t hurt that the SVG coast guard vessel patrolled the anchorage last night. I thanked them for watching over us.

I’m back in Anse Cochon and again being invaded by Pink People! They are still here after eight years.

I’ve told a lot of my cruising friends about the Pink People and they (mostly) get a good laugh out of it. This afternoon I anchored here again, yellow flagging it, then heading to Bequia tomorrow. The Pink People are here in even greater numbers and enjoying the water, snorkeling and I hope not too much sun!

December 2016

We are being invaded by pink people. Our anchorage at Anse Cochon was idyllic. There were only four cruising boats swinging at anchor, a beautiful palm tree lined beach and the only building is a boutique hotel on the south bluff. That's what we woke up to. But at 9:00am the pink people invaded. Up to three mega-catamarans at a time brought around 50 people each to "our idyllic beach."

Castries is the major cruise ship port on St. Lucia. The cats load up with cruise ship passengers and take them to the beautiful beaches south. Every time one approaches, they play a recorded message. I know much of it by heart: "No jumping off the boat, wait until the ladder has been put down. You may use the toilets but don't flush until we leave the bay. We will sound the horn in 40 minutes at which time you must return to the boat. You may have either a cheese or tuna sandwich."

The pink people love the clear, warm water and beautiful beach. Some of them snorkel the amazing reefs right near the beach. It is a beautiful spot and a lot of pictures are taken. When they leave, they cruise by us and stare like we are alien creatures. I always wave.

The boat boys, Titus, Tiger, Mike and John would paddle their kayaks up to the big cats and try to sell coconuts and crafts to the passengers. In between cats, they paddle over to us. They know cruisers don't buy trinkets but they have to try. Sometimes they just sit and chat. I received great fishing advice from one of them. I was cleaning the grill grate on the beach and another brought me an herbed, rum drink. I told him I didn't have any money and he said, "No problem!" I did end up taking his kids for a screaming dinghy ride around the bay.

The local people know we are not pink people. We were in the Castries market and an energetic Rasta wanted to show us his wood carvings. Lisa said, "We live on a boat, we don't have room for any art but they are very nice." He said, "You didn't have to tell me that." I asked why. He said, "I can see by your appearance you live on a boat. Well at least him, not so much she." I have been getting this reaction a lot lately. Maybe it's time for a haircut? Well, not just yet.

Pink people are also found on the major beaches, straw markets and local festivals. We sometimes meet them, especially when they are wearing Wisconsin or Packers gear. They invariably ask the same questions about our cruising life. The one that shocks them is our answer to, "When are you going back?" Our answer is, "We don't plan to. When it's time, we will know."

I hope no one is offended by my term, "pink people." Some of our cruising friends now use it too. Pink people don't annoy me in the slightest bit. I smile when I see them enjoying our paradise. I'm glad they can get a taste of what we enjoy every day. It makes me even more grateful that we live this life.

They are moving so fast, I can’t count them.

A small, French cruiser anchored near me. Kids poured out of the cockpit and jumped in the water, splashing around. It’s near sunset but they will have to be forced out of the water, they are having so much fun.

It appears there are two dads on the boat. I can only speculate. As a dad who was tragically isolated from his kids during a divorce, I can only hope this is a dad/kid adventure of lifetime memories.

The sun sets. My conch horn cries its mournful wail.