Saturday, May 24, 2008

Journal Entry - May 24, 2008 - Bad Moon on the Rise

Author: Scott

'Don't go out tonight. It's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise...' This is what played in my head when I realized that the big orange light shining low on the water was not actually a huge freighter bearing down on us. Pam and I were both in the cockpit and almost simultaneously asked, "What is that?" It was the moon rising of course, but this was no ordinary moon. This was a perfect black cat convention, Michael Meyer Halloween knife sharpening, sacrifice the virgins kind of moon. It was huge (even for our eyes), with creepy gray clouds silently slinking across the face, and orangey gold flecks of light caught in the inky black surface of the oily water. This was a spooky, with a capital S, kind of moon. It was sort of appropriate that I first thought the moon was a demon ship coming to take us down to Davy Jones' locker with CCR swimming around in my head.

Now despite the fact that you don't want 70's songs telling you to stay home tonight playing in your head on the first night you return to sea, after nearly a year, it was a glorious night at sea. We left the dock at almost exactly 1500, our planned departure time. Our minds were in meltdown mode after having just said goodbye to an unbelievable group of people, which over the past year have become our community and will remain our friends for life. It is all a blur for me now, those final minutes before throwing off the lines to our next destination. Just to mention a few, early in the day there was Grahme, Loretta and Harry the dog wishing us well. Rich and Paul from the Tiger Ragtime Jazz Band came out to serenade us on the dock with songs like "Anchors Away". There was big Tony telling me he wasn't good at goodbyes while this tough sailor had tears flowing down my cheeks. There was Simon handing us a load of pizza from his awesome Newcastle restaurant "Eight Ounce", and Bruce our neighbor on F Dock had his hand out with far too little time to thank him for the many ways he helped us. Belinda, Nathan and Mary-Ann just made me gush more with each hug. Joyce was hugging Pam like a daughter leaving home, and somewhere off in the distance Jimmy Buffet was finishing "Changes in Latitudes" our theme song for the voyage. It was time to go.

The one thing about leaving on a boat is that there are plenty of details to redirect your thinking. With the wheel in my hands, barking out requests to helpers on the dock, I was able to pull myself together and clearly see the crowd of people, a crowd of faces I could not recognize at this distance, but I knew them to be the wonderful collection of special mates that so greatly encompassed our experience in Australia. "Farwell our friends, we will see you again" was whispering from my lips as I thrust the throttle forward and spun Starship's bow into the channel. I blew a loud honk on the airhorn, almost killing Pam with fright on the spot, and our friends on the dock glided away from us.

This would not be the end of our departure, not by a long shot. All my concentration was now focused on avoiding a spectacular departure crash with the floating dock, and when I looked around us with that particular hazard in our wake, we were joined by one - two - three boats forming a protective escort around us. Each boat was loaded to the gunnels with friends calling to us, and the first thought that came to me was, 'How on earth did they get in the boats so quickly?' Our little flotilla headed down the channel with Bruce yelling over navigational directions. My driving must have been a little scattered because Bruce finally said "Hey mate why don't you put on the auto pilot?" This reminded me of a conversation I had just had with Bruce where we both admitted steering superiority to the mechanical beast that can put a perfectly straight, inhuman track on the chart plotter. With little chance for collision with the auto pilot engaged and our shield of surrounding vessels, Pam and I were free to be on deck, taking pictures, waving, and screaming thank you and goodbyes. As we approached the heads I thought that surely they would turn back once we passed the final buoy, but this was not to be. The two sailboats (Etosha & Taritabu) unfurled their headsails and taunted us to do the same, while the big sport fisher powerboat (Fortune of War) drove in circles around us all. Our friends would continue to sail us out well into the open ocean, yelling to us, laughing and crying the entire time. I will forever have a picture of our mate Tony standing on the bow of his boat, with the most serene look of pleasure about him. Now I love to sail, but Tony is probably the most natural and passionate sailor we will ever meet and he was completely in his element.

Miles out to sea, Tony finally yelled over that they would "let us have all the fun and get settled in". With that said they tacked away and disappeared in the distance, leaving Pam and I to continue the Blind Circumnavigation. There we stood watching Etosha slip away, both of us crying and numb from our incredible Australian experience.

Now here I sit alone on watch, the time when I get my best opportunity to blog. A good percentage of the gourmet pizza has been eaten, and Pam is down below for her first sleep period. If I stop and think for just a second, the past few days wash over me and there is a new shiny memory that materializes in my mind to add to the collage of what is sure to be one of the most touching and emotional experiences of our life.

There may be a "bad moon on the rise", but we are at it again, dancing on the wire, living every second, waiting to see what adventure will come our way.

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