Some party favors don’t do favors for our ocean friends. Leaving Alamitos Bay for Dana Point early Tuesday morning, miles off the coast, we noticed several helium deprived polyester balloons resting atop the metallic grey surface. From a distance, their forms resemble hazardous lobster pot buoys. It’s only when getting within 100 yards that we begin to make out the heart-shaped Valentines or the faded Disneyesque birthday wishes painted across the debris’ surface. Bryce, an intrepid thrill-seeker and do-gooder, mounted our dark blue soft-top longboard with bright yellow tow-rope in hand, like a cowboy with a bridle, and swung out to round up the soon-to-be turtle food, a fatal mistake for turtles and any other jellyfish eating marine creature.
Bryce, jellyfish imposter round-up
There’s not much Kandu can do to stave off the multitude of plastic jellyfish imposters, but on this early overcast morning, Bryce rescued two: an infinitesimally small, but no less noble, effort, in the battle to minimize our harmful impact on this blue marble gem of a spaceship we call Earth, our only home. Good job, Bryce!
Don’t make Bryce sad. Keep a tight rein on those potentially lethal balloons.
Kandu arrives at Alamitos Bay Yacht Club (photo Dave Terman)
Tying up at Alamitos Bay Yacht Club’s guest dock for a couple nights, a welcome couldn’t have been more endearing. Firstly, ABYC member/ambassador and new friend, Yon, greeted us with an exuberant smile and two cold beers, making available his stand-up paddle board and surfing kayak. Within minutes of shutting down the engine, Bryce was paddling around the marina atop Yon’s paddleboard.
A former work colleague, Dave Terman, having videotaped our arrival, greeted us with gifts of fishing lures and rum. He explained all that was reachable by boat in Alamitos Bay.
I had no concept as to how much Alamitos Bay is a boater’s paradise, more a mini-Venice, Italy than a mini-Naples, the namesake of the island contained within the middle of the bay. Grocery stores and a farmer’s market, marine hardware stores, restaurants, movie theaters and live entertainment are all accessible by dinghy. There is even a canal reportedly teaming with jellyfish. For the active, there’s lots of open water space for small craft to explore: dinghies, outrigger canoes, kayaks, paddle bikes, paddleboards, sailboats, Jet-skis, and recreational fishing boats abound within and just outside the bay’s entrance. Outside the marina and along the beach thrive world-class surfing, sailing, and kite boarding. What an awesome discovery!!! We could hardly sleep.
Sunrise at ABYC’s Guest Dock
The next morning, we woke Bryce and Trent up early to surf Seal Beach. Arriving at the nearly empty parking lot, we learned that the waves were small that day. Bryce felt he’d been lied to. I quickly explained the difference between a great surf spot and a great surf day–no spot, no matter how great, offers 24 hour, 365 day guaranteed excellent surf. Leslie declared that from now on, it would be his responsibility to investigate locations and conditions for great surf: wave height, frequency, and direction; wind speed and direction; tide height, ebb, and flow; and which way the beach faced. “Study these factors and you’ll have a better idea as to whether to wake up or not.” We suggested he keep a log of the factors, comparing it to the discovered reality of the circumstance, to develop his skill in surf conditions forecasting.
While the boys surfed, Leslie and I went to partake in a favorite Sunday morning ritual of mine . . . eggs benedict. A beachside breakfast café in the parking lot where we’d dropped Bryce and Trent off offered eggs Benedict, Caribbean-style with fresh-made Hollandaise—aaaaah . . . .
We returned to the ABYC with our surfers to find that a neighboring boat had sunk! In keeping up with a leaky thru-hole (remember, I replaced all of Kandu’s thru-hulls over the summer), the vessel’s bilge pump drained the boat’s battery before quitting. With nothing to counter the encroaching water, the boat succumbed to the forces of the sea, submerging completely her two large outboard motors. Only her dock lines kept her from resting on the sea floor. With help from a County Fire boat, she was raised, drained, and towed to safety, presumably to a trailer or boatlift.
With little time to spare, we cleaned up Kandu for that afternoon, my brother, Nick and his fiancé Gita planned a gathering of friends and family to bid us farewell. And we would provide the guests a tour of Kandu. Although in the midst of winter, it was a gorgeous summer day. It was encouraging to share with friends and family the result of 2 years hard work and the future plans for the voyage.
ABYC Clubhouse at Sunrise
Making arrangements from Marina Del Rey, it was touch and go getting a slip in Alamitos Bay during the Valentine’s Day weekend, but somehow ABYC, the smaller of the marina’s managed to find us a place at their well maintained guest dock. Meeting Yon was the best part about landing at ABYC. His zest for life and generosity are infectious. The evening of my brother’s gathering, from Pretty Penny’s cockpit, Yon offered us sausages for barbequing and gave me a specialty ring, worn on a finger to pry open bottle caps—pretty cool. Yon even invited us to stay an additional day, stating that their club supports the sailing community and loved that we were leaving to sail around the world. Because of Yon’s hospitality, we spent an additional day at the ABYC guest dock, giving us time to deal with an unexpected repair.
With his infectious smile in the cockpit of “Pretty Penny”, Yon, ABYC’s most generous prince of hospitality, reminds Bryce how good life is.
We could have easily spent a fantastic week or more in Alamitos Bay and been thoroughly enthralled in the experience. But we must shove off if we are to be in French Polynesia by June. I hope for a next time. ‘Til then, here’s to the ABYC, Yon, and the yet-to-be-seen Alamitos Bay jellies.
When we arrived at the Del Rey Yacht Club, we pulled into their guest slip as prescribed, Slip D-289. We quickly settled into what was to be our base for three days, setting up power, draping our cockpit and setting up the cushions, configuring dock lines to keep us still, straightening up our deck, etc. An hour later, the club apologetically informed us that we would have to move a few slips over so that they could accommodate a larger guest boat: better now in the late light of day when we’re all awake than in the dark of night before bed. Trent was especially peeved, even after I explained that we’re guests and that we’re fortunate to have had them so quickly find a solution for us.
Our new spot was within “Battleship Row,” the unofficial term the club members use to describe the dock finger that houses their members’ shiny fleet of large motor yachts: Kandu was dwarfed. Battleship Row enjoys a prominent position directly in front of the clubhouse’s bar and lounge, a frequented part of the club. Of course, with our “Loud Family” Ventura West Marina reputation (read our earlier post, “The Loud Family?”), I carried a stigma that when combined with our cargo-laden decks packed with jugs of fuel and water, exposed dinghy, surfboards, kayaks, and paddles, . . . plus it didn’t help to have our laundry of beach towels, wetsuits, and bathing suits drying on the forward lifelines for all its membership to enjoy. The only things missing were empty beer cans and grandma rockin’ in a chair on the foredeck. So it was no surprise when later the next day the commodore and again, the dock master, explained that we would have to move one more time, but that we could stay there as long as a week (at the customary reciprocal rate of $1/boat foot length per night, after the third night, which is better than what the city charges for its municipal guest dock, $1.50/ft.) I asked the dock master if he could show me where we were to dock so that we could pre-set Kandu’s dock lines. He said, “It’s a walk,” looked at my shoes, “but sure, let’s go.” As we walked to the furthest corner of the club parking lot, and then down a ramp and a walkway that took us even further away from the clubhouse, we turned down the full length of E Dock, as far from shore as possible to its end-tie, Slip E-901. It was immediately apparent that we would be as far away from the clubhouse as any boat could be, while still remaining on club property. This would be the third time we would be docking at the club, equaling the number of days we would be staying at the club. This is where I think I’m over-sensitive.
Kandu in all her cruising glory within “Battleship Row”
From the very first, the club welcomed us without issue, providing us complete access to their wonderful facilities, including high-speed Wi-Fi and recreational equipment for the boys, basketball, Ping-Pong and tetherball, . . . and laundry. They provided us with a parking pass for our car that Uncle Bill drove down for us. As stated, the boats they said were coming, came. And the view from our end tie was spectacular, with the Marina Towers and Ritz-Carleton facing us across the way. The Del Rey Yacht Club staff were courteous and accommodating. So I don’t think cutting us off their WiFi was intentional.
Plan to leave Marina Del Rey tomorrow for Alamitos Bay, Long Beach; then off to Dana Point, Oceanside, and San Diego. Once we’ve completed our last requirements of paperwork, we head off to Mexico, Galapagos, Easter Island, Pitcairn, and then enter into French Polynesia via Gambier.
“Now that the trip has started you must be ecstatic?” a phrase heard a lot once we arrived in Marina Del Rey. That’s not the feeling I have. Relief is the greatest feeling, followed by pressure to remember what needs to be done between now and leaving the U.S. for Mexico. But not far from the surface creeps anticipation of wonderful adventures to come.
During these past few years of preparation, I couldn’t allow myself the ‘distraction’ of imagining the future fun. It would have pulled limited time away from preparation, for knowing me, I would have started researching the possibilities and basking in glorious anticipation of experiences to come. With too much to do to prepare the boat and learn about social media and video production, I couldn’t afford any diversion—vegetables before dessert. It’s only in the past couple of days that I have begun to allow myself the pleasure of envisioning some future experiences: seeing calving grey whales close up, catching pelagic fish during passages, snorkeling in the bountiful aquarium that is the Galapagos, hiking the ridge of an equatorial volcanic crater, collecting water samples and Secchi disc reports, watching and recording the boys surfing, touching the Moai of Easter Island, enveloping the people we meet and immersing in their culture, meeting the descendants of the HMS Bounty Mutineers, seeing long-time Marquesan friends, and placing the boys in a French school. For two years I’ve been in a chrysalis of preparation, shielded from exposure to future joy and excitement. That makes for a grumpy dad, but it was what I felt I needed to do in order to stay on task, getting the boat ready for lengthy open-ocean voyaging and extensive stays at some of the planet’s most remote islands. Self-sufficiency and safety were at the top of the list. With just a few loose ends to tie, I allow joy to get a little closer, but not quite enter my psyche: still much to do during this period of transition from boat preparation to international travel. But Tuesday night, Leslie’s birthday, for the first time in 18 months, having safely and comfortably motor-sailed 8 hours from Ventura, lounging in Kandu’s cockpit with a glass of nigori sake while securely moored at the guest dock of a yacht club that is not located in Ventura, I felt I could afford to feel some sensation of the satisfaction that begged to be experienced. Significant relief, the absence of stress, was truly the only sensation that I felt I could reasonably allow. Not complete relief, but great relief, about 75% less. We had made the first tangible step toward the benefit side of what, until now, had been the exceedingly high financial and emotional weight of our journey’s scale. Leslie and Bryce had big smiles. Trent was immensely pleased he had not gotten the least bit seasick. Seeing their happy faces was my greatest reward.
Bryce expresses in image the crew’s feeling of leaving Ventura Harbor after a year and half of delay, Santa Cruz Island in the foreground, the autopilot set for Marina Del Rey.
In 1990, a different crew of mine and I had planned to sail out of Ventura Harbor aboard Getel, my uncle’s 32-foot sailboat, for the Marquesas in French Polynesia, where I was to conduct research for my thesis study. The date we chose was February 9th. Having waved good-bye to family and friends, we motored out of the marina with the intention of “swinging our compass” (calibrating it). The seas proved too rough to perform the operation so we returned to execute the maneuver inside the marina. Once complete, we felt it too late to head back out so we spent one more night in Ventura, aboard Getel. We left pre-dawn, after I made a pay phone call (remember those?) to wish Leslie a happy birthday. With calmer seas, we successfully departed and 25 and half days later, arrived in Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas.
Flash forward 25 years, my mate and I planned to leave Ventura Harbor for Marina Del Rey on the 9th of February, initiating our “slow start” to our world cruise. The morning of our planned departure, with better technology available, we could read that the seas were high, 10-15 feet, and that a Small Craft Advisory was posted, warning smaller boats like ours of the challenging conditions. Taking advantage of the forecast, seeing a window of benign weather for the next day, we postponed our departure one day, leaving again on Leslie’s birthday.
My cousin-in-law, Scott Landry, not one for coincidences, believes we contrived this circumstance in order to create an interesting blog post. He would not be convinced otherwise. That’s one of the take-aways I find so interesting about the cruising lifestyle: it provides an abundance of unbelievable stories, events that are difficult for non-cruising families to fathom. Delaying our trip the one day, having just delayed it two days because of a forecasted rainstorm (which came as predicted), brought great disappointment to the crew. Bryce and Trent moaned when they heard the news. Leslie was incredulous when before dawn I told her we’re not leaving. I had to prove my case, offering NOAA weather forecasts, real-time weather buoy data, and the red-lettered small craft advisory atop the NOAA Marine Weather Forecast page. Then there were the sneers from yacht club members who felt that if we couldn’t handle uncomfortable conditions for a brief, 10-hour trip to Los Angeles, how could we expect to handle the rigors of the open sea, across much longer passages? There was significant peer pressure to leave that drizzly morning, with the sound of waves breaking over the detached breakwater, the barrier of stout guano-covered boulders that protects Ventura Harbor’s entrance. But I held my guns, which leads me to the other take-away I get from the blue-water cruising lifestyle: philosophical perspective development.
This past year, one lesson keeps popping up time and time again: whether to live a life of avoidance or a life of purpose. A cruising sailor can plan routes to avoid hurricanes, or he/she can plan to arrive during the region’s prime weather windows. It’s a subtle but significantly different approach. The first means a sailor is willing to skirt the bounds of the worst weather, knowing they can survive what’s in between. The second means a sailor is aimed at enjoying the experience, knowing full well that difficult, unforeseen circumstances can occur. The difference is that the former, in avoiding disaster, is willing to survive the experience of cruising, whereas the later, seeks benignity, accepting the unforeseen hardships that inevitably arise with any venture. Sailors know that even though regions close to a hurricane belt may not experience the full force of 70+ mph winds with enormous surge and seas, they will experience stormy weather with winds of 50 mph, heavy rains, and thunderstorms (lightning): an unpleasant experience at best. I can’t afford that. If I want to sail around the world, I have to manage two things: 1) our costs; we spent well over our preparation budget, pulling from our cruising kitty, potentially shortening our trip, and 2) our enjoyment; if Leslie, Bryce, and Trent aren’t having great experiences, they’re not going to want to continue. So, if I want to sail around the world with my family, I must find inexpensive ways to create positive experiences. One simple principle is to allow weather to dictate your schedule. It is often said among cruising sailors that the single most dangerous threat to the wellbeing of a vessel and her crew is a schedule. Keeping a schedule, trying to depart from or arrive at a particular location at a specific time is what gets most cruisers into trouble.
On the first day of our voyage, I didn’t want to knowingly create an uncomfortable experience for my novice crew, sailing against a small craft warning. Let the negative come unforeseeably. I choose instead to take the peer pressure and depart under a favorable weather forecast. I’m glad I did. Our first of hopefully many more sojourns to come was a benign one. Leslie awoke the next morning, happy and excited for the cruising life we’ve begun—my birthday present to her, but even more so, to myself. I can’t control the weather, I can control when we leave. When possible, I prefer leaving within a good weather forecast window to a questionable one, choosing thriving o’er surviving.
Our first stop, the Del Rey Yacht Club Guest Dock. Note how Kandu is tucked between DRYC mega-yachts and the Ritz-Carlton to the background on the right. This isn’t Ventura any more.
So, if postponing departure for but one more embarrassing day makes for not only a ‘thriving’ experience, but also an historic coincidence, then so much the richer the event, so much the sweeter the story, so much more important it is to follow one’s truer purpose.
This dawn, after 4 decades of dreaming, 25 years of planning, 4 years of preparing, and 1 year of living aboard, we leave Ventura from the guest dock of the venerable Ventura Yacht Club. With many well wishes and a bit of press, we release the cords that bind us to this wonderfully loving place, the birthplace of our departures with many more departures to come. Ventura and the friends and family that occupy her, will be greatly missed. We love you.
With love, the crew of Kandu bids adieu (photo by Pascale Landry)
Now we’re ready to leave. It’s a little like having a baby; the mother is uncomfortable enough that she forgets to be afraid to go through with the birth, she just wants the baby out. In a similar fashion, I am no longer worried about missing my family and friends, not being quite enough prepared, or feeling trepidation for the unknowable future at sea. I’m psychologically ready to leave behind life as I’ve known it and face what is ahead just to get going on this long-awaited adventure.
Lately, in the dark early evenings walking down the dock to our boat, I’ve been looking up at the sky to see the constellation Orion clear as a bell shining down on me. Growing up, I remember only searching for the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, constellations of Earth’s northern hemisphere. But now I only have eyes for Orion, the warrior hunter constellation located on the celestial equator – thus visible throughout both hemispheres. Somehow he feels like a familiar friend that, during our travels, will become much more close. I wonder which other constellations I will stare at during night watches, what friends await me in the southern hemisphere. I have a fantastic app on my mobile phone that shows the constellations from every angle. I’m looking forward to studying them on calm nights. Maybe I should download information about them now while I still have access to the Internet.
I’m also looking forward to researching about the countries and sights we will soon be exploring…learning opportunities for the boys, as well as for Eric and me. I’m looking forward to learning and practicing more Spanish. I’m looking forward to sharing my love for language with Bryce and Trent, especially French. I’m looking forward to practicing my sailing skills, building upon the skills that I learned through last racing season’s Wet Wednesdays. I’m looking forward to living the dream that we have talked about and planned for during these last 25 years. It was 25 years ago this February 10th when Eric departed Ventura for the Marquesas Islands with brothers Nick, Curtis and Uncle Bill – 6 months after that when I joined the crew in Hawaii. Somehow this last year’s ups and downs led us here to this momentous turning point – departing again 25 years later – a year after we moved on the boat.
I’m looking forward to reading great literature, to treasure hunts, to meeting new people, to hiking, to fishing, and actually sailing too. I’m looking forward to living with even less, as crazy as that sounds.
Kandu and sunrise at Ventura Yacht Club
So in a few days, after the rain passes, instead of severing the umbilical chord, we’re casting off our Ventura dock-lines…like true Vagabonds, carrying everything we could imaginably need…including 2 kitchen sinks!
A couple weeks ago a photographer named Marc Brown came over to talk about my dad’s cameras and recording equipment. He got me really exited about GoPro cameras. The difference between other video cameras and GoPro cameras is that GoPros can go in the water. They’re small and can attach to everything with a mount. After Mr. Brown left, I thought that we could use my dad’s GoPro 3+ and GoPro 2, but my dad didn’t want us to use his GoPro 3+ because he was afraid we might damage it or lose it. So my brother Bryce and I had to share the GoPro 2. I was really mad when he said that, so I decided to buy my own GoPro. My dad did research on GoPros and showed me GoPros I could buy for a price of $200 or less. There was the GoPro Hero for $130 and GoPro 3 white for $200. I wanted to get the $200 one because it’s better than the $130 one. The white is better because it makes it so you can see what the GoPro sees. At this point I’m keeping it a secret from my brother, Bryce, because he would want to get the same thing as me, or better. A couple days later my dad and I were going to go to Cosco to buy my GoPro. When my dad said he would make a deal with me. He said if I give him my $200 he would give me the GoPro 3+ black that he already had. The GoPro3+ black is better than GoPro 3 white. I wasn’t sure if I should accept the deal and, my dad said I didn’t have to take the deal. My dad offered the deal because mom wouldn’t let him buy the GoPro 4 black because it costs $500. After that we went to Costco and the only GoPro there was the GoPro 3+ black and Hero. They cost $350 and $130. Dad said the GoPro 3+ is basically the same as GoPro 4, not the black. But the GoPro 4 can take videos in the dark and faster 4k frame rates. We returned home empty handed. When I went to bed I told dad that I would take his deal. The next day we left Ventura to drive up to Northern California to see Nani and Papa, my grandparents. When we were half way there, I told my brother the deal I had made with dad. He was mad because if he bought a new GoPro, I would still have the better one.
After spending 3 great days at Nani and Papa’s house in Oakland, we went to the Lima’s ranch in Watsonville. Philip, a professional quad-copter video guy that my dad knows, was there to show us how to use our quad-copter drone, the Phantom 1. He put his GoPro on the drone. After a couple hours of flying lessons, Bryce and I started skateboarding down the hill of their driveway. I went to get my GoPro 3+Black, and that was the first time I used my GoPro.
When I got home I really wanted to go to my friend Charlie’s house at Faria Beach. I really was exited to see what kind of GoPro he had. Guess what? I had a better one than him. He had the GoPro Hero only. A couple days later, Charlie and I went into the water with our GoPros and were videotaping all the nice wave barrels at his house. After a little while Charlie went back to his house but I waited for the sunset. A couple minutes later, I was walking back to his house on the beach when the sunset happened. It was beautiful. I took a couple pictures of the sunset and went back to his house.
The next day, Bryce and I were so pumped up with our GoPros we wanted dad to install a plastic mount on our surfboards so we could take really good videos with our GoPros while surfing. One day my dad arrived with a whole bunch of additional equipment for our GoPros. I asked him if I could buy some GoPro accessories. Dad bought me a GoPro storage box so he could have his box back. I said, cool dad, thanks for the box”. The next day he was working on the computer, and he said” Trent do you want to order anything? Bryce asked, “Hey, do I get to order items too?” Dad said, ”Yes”. We got a whole bunch of equipment like Bryce got a bobber, a box Dad’s original GoPro HD (he has the first GoPro too, a standard def one.), and plastic latches. I got aluminum latches, a chest mount, and a helmet.
The worst thing ever happened. I was so excited to try out my new stuff, that when I switched my floaty-back with a regular back cover, I didn’t see that it was a back with holes. I didn’t even know they made them that way. When I took it surfing, I checked it and couldn’t get it to work. When I brought it back to the house, it was full of water. My mom washed it off with freshwater and alcohol, like my dad told her to do. He wasn’t there. He was working on the boat. My dad said I had to wait two days to let it dry. I waited. Two days are long. When I turned it on, it didn’t work. I learned on a YouTube video how to test the batteries with a meter my dad has. Only one battery was charged. The camera came on, but it said, “No SD,” which means it wasn’t seeing the SD card. My dad told me to check the SD card in our computer. It worked, so that meant the GoPro was broken. I was very sad. My dad told me to find a video that shows us how to open it up, and that he’d try to fix it. So I did, but we didn’t have screwdrivers small enough so my dad said, “Get in the car,” and we went to Fry’s. I picked out the mini screwdrivers and we went back to the boat to try and fix the GoPro that night. When my dad opened the back, he showed me the salt that the ocean water made. He said mom didn’t rinse it enough, but now we know how much we have to rinse electronics if they get dunked in saltwater. Dad had a spray called Corrosion X. It’s supposed to eat rust and make electronic stuff work again. The Army uses it. So he put some on a toothbrush and cleaned all the salty parts. It looked new again. We got to see inside the camera. Dad showed me the imager and said nothing can touch it, no dirt, dust, fingerprints, or spray. After three times of taking it apart and cleaning it, we still couldn’t get the SD card reader to work. Everything else worked, but the SD card reader. It was late, so I went to bed. Dad said he would try one last thing, to get the card reader off so he could clean it better. I prayed that he would fix it. I spent all my money on it and I couldn’t buy another one for a long time because we’re leaving the country really soon. The next morning, I asked dad if he fixed it. When he said “No,” I cried. I really loved my GoPro. Now I’ll have to share with Bryce dad’s old GoPro.
Breakfasting at the Ventura Yacht Club the weekend following New Year’s, Trent and Bryce met the Harris brothers, Ryan and Wesley, twins that sailed several years with their parents aboard their catamaran, Gone Native. Meeting young guys who did what they are about to do gave them an opportunity to hear about experiences they could look forward to. Here’s what Bryce and Trent wrote about their experience, meeting Ryan and Wesley Harris:
Ryan and Wesley Harris (photo Dina Pielaet)
Harris Brothers
This past Sunday, January 4th, we happened to meet a family who had a similar experience of what we were about to partake. In the Harris family were two nineteen year-old young men named Wesley and Ryan. My brother and I both had a conversation about their travels, thoughts, and experiences!
The most exciting for me were the surfing stories. On their trip, they started to learn how to surf. Their first day surfing was rough. In the beginning, the waves were moderate size, about 3 ft. Then later the waves picked up to about 10 ft and barreling. The father got a huge chunk of skin cut clean-off by the surfboard fine. He tried putting an antidote on (called second skin). Almost an hour later, he got back in the water and the second skin immediately came off and it started to bleed again. They were worried about attracting sharks.
The second experience that caught my attention was lobster diving. To pick-up a lobster, they were taught to push on the lobster’s back and then pick it up. Wesley and Ryan said that the first few times they tried lobster diving, it was freaky because they would touch the lobster and it would move crazily and it scared them back to the surface. But now after years of practice catching lobsters bare-handed, they love catching lobsters as big as 17” long as if it were no big deal.
Another story was their journey home. They visited schools, gave speeches and shared power-point presentations of what they did during their travels. This sounded really fun to talk in front of students about journeys and places they went to and what they were like
Overall, talking to these young men, boosted my positive energy toward my family’s trip around the world. Also, it was a small heads-up of what could happen during our travels. I thought it was really cool and an extremely interesting and beneficial conversation with the Harris Brothers!
Bryce Rigney
Talking to the Sailor Boys
Last Sunday I met Wesley and Ryan Harris, nineteen-year-old sailors who sailed with their mom and dad. They sailed around the Mediterranean Sea and across the Atlantic Ocean for a total of about five years between the ages of 9 and 14. I asked them what was the longest time they had been at sea without seeing land. They said it took 24 days to cross the Atlantic Ocean. During that crossing one morning while they were sleeping, a huge wave came. They thought it was just another wave, but no, it was a 30-foot wave. This wave crashed over the boat and woke them up. If the catamaran had flipped over they might have died.
During our conversation, Wesley and Ryan also talked about diving and catching lobster. When they were close to land they would free dive 10 feet and catch lobsters freehanded. They said all you have to do is push down on the lobster, then pick it up. They said they did it a lot because they love to eat lobster. They also mentioned that every day they would write in their journal. Now five years later, they sometimes read through their journal entries, which helps them remember everything they did during those five years. The last thing that impressed me about what they said was that when you get back to school after your trip, everybody will think you’re really cool to have sailed around the world. Of course, I haven’t experienced that yet.
