Visiting Blogger: Kevin Peterson

Even before they left for France last June, my wife Rebecca and I had looked forward to our first opportunity to visit Sila and her crew. Over the past 10 months, we followed the blog, exchanged emails, arranged the occasional FaceTime session, and held our breath when they were incommunicado during passages. Once they reached the American side of the pond, we arranged to join Molly, Christopher, Porter and Jack for a week in the Bahamas. We flew to Nassau from Boston on Thursday (slipping out of the clutches of a big Nor'Easter), then on to San Salvador the next day. Molly and the boys were there to greet us–our first big surprise of the trip. We passed by the entrance to Club Med, a place that NH friends have visited many times (and that would surprisingly feature prominently in our adventure...).

If your read Molly's previous post, http://svsila.blogspot.com/2014/03/skiing-without-transceiver.html, you know that our intended seven-day cruise along the Exuma Islands and back to Nassau– with plenty of snorkeling, poking and exploring along the way– shifted dramatically on Saturday morning after Sila's diesel engine seized. Thus, we had a completely different adventure, with highlights different from what we ever could have expected.

No matter where we were or what we were doing, THE highlight was a chance to spend so much time with the Barnes family, individually and collectively. Molly and Christopher have done an amazing job creating a life that has a carefully designed structure and important rules overlaid with an atmosphere that promotes fun, creativity and spontaneity. It was truly a joy to watch and experience.

'Expedition Behavior' is a term I heard several times, and something we experienced first-hand. When the engine didn't start, Christopher immediately began to diagnose the situation, gathering information from manuals and documents, making Skype calls and sending emails all over the world to seek help and advice. Soon he dispatched us to scour the island for replacement oil and diesel mechanics, and he considered every alternative for fixing the dead engine. When it became clear that we had to get Sila to Florida, he and Molly talked through alternatives, considered and reconsidered plans, looked for flaws or weaknesses, and arrived at a course of action. They gathered the crew together to fully brief us, encourage questions, and make sure we understood what was going on, and laid out tasks and duties to be completed in the 24 hours before we were set to sail out of the Riding Rock Marina. For them, the process was routine. For us, it was a revealing display of true partnership engaged in joint decision making, leadership and education. They definitely put EB into practice!

 

As we prepared to make the passage to Florida, which we knew could take anywhere from four to seven or more days (depending on wind speed and direction, weather, and other factors), Rebecca quickly came to the conclusion that she could not remain a part of the Sila crew for the passage. Here is where Club Med came into play. Though not the kind of place we would visit by choice, Club Med turned out to be a lifeline for Bec as it offered just about the only accommodations on San Salvador outside of the Sila cabin– and it was just a half-hour walk from Riding Rock Marina. As we hoisted sails and cast off from the dock on Tuesday morning, Bec watched from the breakwater, snapping photos and shouting encouragement while we sailed out of the harbor. After that, she spent two days at Club Med before flying home to freezing cold New Hampshire.

CBB and MPB have developed significant sailing prowess. I knew Christopher was a very accomplished sailor, and that Molly had many days of big-boat experience on Galatea. But I was amazed at their skill and confidence aboard Sila. I awoke one night to sails flapping, winches cranking, rain falling and Christopher exclaiming aloud 'Really???' A midnight wind-shift and frontal passage forced him to reef the main, then tack three times, in the dark, with shifty winds, alone on deck, all the while keeping watch for approaching ships. Hearing the commotion (it is hard to sleep when the winch is spinning, literally right above your head in the quarter berth), I got up to help. By the time I got dressed and donned my harness, everything had settled down and we were sailing smoothly in the moonlight. Time and again, what seemed to be chaos from the cabin was the normal order of things on deck, with a competent Molly or Christopher in control. And the best thing is that they are passing on their skills to Porter and Jack.

 

The boys are incredibly curious, inventive and fun-loving– always finding new ways to pass the time. At one point, Jack crafted a headset and microphone out of clothespins. In response, I cupped my hands over my mouth and 'called' him on the 'radio': "Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit, this is UK (Uncle Kevin) come in, over." Jack adjusted his 'headset' and responded, and we carried on a 'radio' conversation across the cockpit. And I loved our afternoon games of cribbage and backgammon, despite my woeful losing record. Before we left San Salvador, we had fun chasing surf and throwing a ball in the marina parking lot.

 

 

Previous blog posts have described Porter's fishing dedication and prowess. He spent hours visiting the sport-fishing boats in the harbor on San Salvador, and tending his own lines off Sila's stern as we sailed to Florida. Too bad we didn't get to eat any fresh fish on this passage, despite crossing through some of the most famous fishing grounds in the world.

 

 

Music and dancing were regular features. The Sila iPod has an amazing repertoire of songs, and someone was regularly spinning tunes for every occasion. One minute it was The Macarena. Then Molly and Jack swaying to Wagon Wheel. Then Michael Jackson. Then Jack hopping about the cockpit to the latest YouTube dance craze. I never knew what was coming next!

While on passage, we had a regular 'watch' schedule. My favorite time was 6 - 9 PM. After doing dishes in the cockpit and 'family brush', Molly and Christopher would head below for some much-needed sleep before their overnight watches. Porter and Jack would join me in the cockpit to listen to podcasts of This American Life, RadioLab, or Fresh Air. After dark, we star-gazed, Jack identifying constellations with a small laser pointer. And, we were constantly watching for ships. On two of our four nights, we sailed through the Northwest and Northeast Bahamas Passage, a busy shipping lane to the open ocean from the east coast of Florida. We saw tankers, container ships, a freighter hauling wind towers and blades, and dozens of cruise ships. These 13-story behemoths move at night from port to port, lit up like Christmas trees. Sometimes, we could see the ship's glow over the horizon before it appeared. Their presence required constant vigilance, on radar, on the automatic identification system or AIS (a transponder similar to what is on every aircraft, which broadcasts a ship's name, size, course and, most importantly, closest point of approach to Sila), and with our own eyes. Every evening, as I was handing off the watch to CBB, it seemed like a dozen ships would materialize out of nowhere. So much for a quiet moonlit sail!

The Wizard is an amazing contraption. Through the mastery of German engineering, we could set it to sail a steady, hands-free course, allowing the crew to adjust sails, check radar, call other ships, eat dinner, or dance to Livin' on a Prayer.

The Doghouse is a favorite spot for everyone. It affords a comfortable seat, a great view, and protection from the elements. CBB clearly has earned a reputation as the Doghouse Dude. As you might expect, he spends a lot of time at the Nav station in the Doghouse, checking weather, monitoring other ships, doing log entries, and generally taking stock of Sila's vital statistics. And when the going got a little rough crossing the Gulf Stream– increasing winds, choppy seas, rain-filled squalls, multiple sail adjustments– Christopher was right there, making sure all was well–  and staying warm and dry in the Doghouse without even putting on his harness, while Molly and I braved the elements at the helm and in the cockpit!

The final day, we crossed the Gulf Stream in the Florida Strait. With 20-knot winds at our back and the 2+ mph current flowing into our port beam, the seas were quite choppy. With CBB in the Doghouse monitoring our course and ship traffic, we sailed into the busy entrance to the Port Everglades harbor. I was at the helm, and it was all I could do to maintain a relatively steady course, especially when a particularly obnoxious 120-foot motor yacht roared past our starboard side, its wake rocking Sila even more than the choppy seas. It was some of the most challenging sailing I've done, and an honor to do it aboard Sila. Christopher and Molly furled the sails while we were towed to the marina, past the same cruise ships that had lit up the past several nights. Our safe arrival was a relief, but also a tribute to their thorough planning and competent execution.

Even before I got on the plane back to Boston that evening, I was missing Sila and her intrepid crew. Thanks for letting me share an incredible experience with you– my first blue-water sail and a truly memorable week. – Kevin Peterson, aka Uncle Kevin