Sunday, 4/23/2023

Where is Royce? Click to sail along! ⛵

It’s 5:30 on Sunday, the night before departure. The sun is casting long shadows as a light breeze moves over the water, shifting our boat slightly on her mooring. The crew is primarily milling around the cabin, straightening up bunks, finishing navigation calculations, or sitting around the settee. Two nights removed from boarding and we are all feeling much more comfortable with Falken, and ready to head to sea.

We just finished our second day of briefings. We spent the better half learning about weather patterns, and mapping our passage considering the forecast and prevailing winds. You’ll be pleased to learn, mother, that there is a 0% chance of hurricanes and given the low pressure system to our north, squeezing us into a barometric high, we should be enjoying a downwind sail for the next couple weeks. Of course, a local meteorologist is wrong half the time, so how the hell will we know what Neptune is planning for us over the next 3,000 miles?

And mom, you may be less excited to learn that I volunteered as the Man Over Board rescue team water boy. Should some unfortunate soul fall from the boat, I’m thrown in with the milling sharks to pull the poor sailor free. We practiced harnessing me to the halyard, but are leaving the dipping in the water to tomorrow, once out at sea. I don’t expect my new friends to chum the water prior to the exercise, but you can’t be too certain around these shifty foreigners. I’ll wear my water wings, just in case.

Other than a botched rescue drill, an erratic weather change, or an untimely Orca attack, what could possibly go wrong out there? I’ll be tethered to the boat at all times, and promise to wear my sunscreen.

I’m realizing, with our imminent departure, that I’ve been lazy on the character development in this story. The delay has allowed me to spend some time with this motley crew, so the following observations should be taken for gospel, regardless of your association to any. In no particular order, other than the number that was assigned us, like cattle, when we boarded:

1. Captain Chris - hailing from Germany, and probably in his mid 30’s, Chris absolutely sets the tone for our boat. He’s very easy going, a little quiet, terribly knowledgable, but quick to smirk at a crew member asking a dumb question. We learned today that he was skipper (captain) of one of the 12 Around-the-World Cutters that race every couple years out of the UK. These sponsored, 70-foot vessels, with 20-men/women crew are the professionals of this sport. My hypothesis goes that if he can manage a circumnavigation, under extreme conditions, with twice the number of humans, he’s got better than a 50/50 chance at rediscovering the world is not flat and depositing us somewhere safely in the Caribbean. Other than the German accent, I have little to fear. He’s got an infant and a UK fiancé, so unless he insists on goose-stepping while on watch, I think he’s harmless.

2. Staton - we met him the other night. We’ve had opportunities to work as a team today for MOB activities and yesterday in the fire drilling. I expect our watches will be memorable, or at least lively, given his gift of gab.

3. Nelson - Nelson joins us from Dallas. He’s in his upper 40’s, married with a son at Oregon and a daughter looking at schools out East. He’s an ER doc by trade, but has his hands in private equity around Texas. We’ve talked shop, discussed politics, covered the two sides to socialized medicine, doting on your daughters, and much in between. Funny guy, with a positive disposition. In addition to having someone that can remove my appendix at sea, his sarcasm is a healthy addition to the crew.

4. Me - I’m awesome. Just ask me. Ask the crew, and I might be volunteered as the first to eat should we become stranded in our life raft.

5. Jeff - I slept like a baby last night, so I can’t blame him for much any longer. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve seen him all day. I think he just returned with his laundry. Definitely someone that may wander off and we’ll never see again - he’s on the other shift, so I may not see him again until Antigua. Slight addendum after our crew dinner this evening - we all watched with mild amusement and collective embarrassment as he counted out 31 Euros in left-over-laundry coins to pay his dinner bill.

6. Alejandro - As always, he is the punching bag for most humor. We’ll blame the language barrier, but he definitely asks too many questions and draws the most eye rolls. Again, harmless and too lovable to sustain much harassment.

7. Vince - We introduced him the other night as well. He and I worked together on charting a course across the ocean today. He’s easy to get on with, sharp, but low key for an engineer from the East Coast. He was quick to point out how we crushed everyone else today while mapping - we’re two in the same with respect to misaligned confidence.

8. Vicky - Other than a heated discussion with Alejandro over some nuance of the Canadien school system last night, I haven’t heard much from her. She’s pleasant, but keeps pretty quiet around the rest of us neanderthals.

9. Bruce - Bruce is a New Zealander, who lives in the UK and is one of the longest tenured professors at the London School of Business. He’s a single guy, never married, in his mid-50’s and has done five or six sail trips with 59 North. As a Wharton graduate, I just hope he can keep up with the rest of us, intellectually. Despite his profession and academic pedigree, he’s very down to earth, friendly, inquisitive, and shares our sense of adventure. I enjoy Bruce’s demeanor, and have already learned much about the English pension system and Brexit. If this guy can go deep on Downton Abby, Lewis Hamilton, and obscure tracks by the Spice Girls, then the fortnight on Falken will fly by.

10. Ella - Ella is the second mate on the boat, which means she is only behind Mia and Chris for knowledge and sailing experience. Although she too crossing the Atlantic for the first time, she is 18 years young - destined for a life of excitement. She has been fairly quiet, but may be taking her time to find her place or her confidence. She is very nice and eager to help. Most exciting, Ella worked for Oyster Sailboats for the last year, helping commission new builds! Given that my dream includes owning an Oyster, I can’t wait to pick her brain over all things Oyster.
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11. Mia - I’ve known Mia via email for a couple years. Married to Andy Schell, owner of 59 North, she is personally responsible for the successful passages of this company. I wouldn’t be back if it wasn’t for her (and Andy). She is so nice, so helpful, an amazing cook thus far, and along with Chris, sets the tone for the on-board environment.

If it’s not clear, I couldn’t be happier with the crew, their varied backgrounds, idiosyncrasies, unique personalities, and of course shared sense of adventure.

The numbers we’ve been assigned play multiple roles. They refer to our bunk positions on board as well as our shift assignments. Even numbers - Staton, Me, Alejandro and Vicky all are on top bunks around the boat and will be Crew “T” for Top (bunk, or intelligence, or sailing prowess - all open for interpretation but not argument). The odd numbers (or oddballs, also not open for argument) fall to the lower bunks, including Nelson, Jeff, Vince and Bruce. Clearly these individuals should be associated with second-rate sailors, second class citizens, or “groundlings” to stick with Bruce’s cultural past. They make up the other “lesser” shift, according to Chris and anyone with authority.

On the topic of how the boat is run, we will work on a schedule where shift 1 is sailing the boat from 8am to 2pm, and shift 2 from 2-8. From 8pm to 8am, we’ll rotate every four hours, so the next morning, the shifts switch. I was confused the first time too, but try to follow along. Mia and Ella will split the shifts, so we’ll get each of them for half of our shifts. Day 1 of briefing, I challenged the thinking behind this, and in a soft, historically sinister accent, Chris calmly explained how I will be lulled into appreciating the system by day three. And now I know why German trains run on time.

Once we set sail tomorrow around noon, blog postings, pictures, and all communication, short of a blinking Garmin moving ever so slowly across the Atlantic, will cease. I do have texting capability via a satellite device, but have limited my contacts to remain off the grid and unbothered by the complexities of real life.

I’ll continue to journal - God help your social life if you’ve made it this far with me and desire more - and will promptly post upon re entry. Based on charting, wind prediction, sail design, ocean temperature, the alignment of the moon, the Avalanche’s regular season record and the over-under on prince Charles’ coronation date, we should arrive in Antigua sometime two weeks from tomorrow. But then, one can never tell when a German-piloted vessel is to make landfall - they run on their own schedule.