The Best Penny Aluminum Boat

MARINAS MARINE THE FIRST TIME AND GOOD START BIG


story of a cruise Azores-France in 1978


SEA FIRST
Memorabilia Cruise France 1978
Azores-Horta, Faial Island - Azores. To my great regret, I could see the island's port. There was no time to make the visit, and another unexpected setback (cases of Mark, one of the crew, trapped in Madrid) has allowed us to stay two more days.

Horta remains for me a memory hushed, half-tones, almost silent, and I do not care or noises or odors. Cons by the swarm of images themselves and shoving ...

This huge mole, I long for the second time, when so many names are carved in stone or painted, some famous, most unknown. Naive drawings or works of art, they coexist, overlap, mingle each other, sometimes overlapping a previous testimony. They also came by sea, divided by the sea, loved this port and this country. All the stories of these great names, of Slocum Van de Wiele, say the wild beauty of the islands, the kindness of their inhabitants. For how long? ...

solitary walk, want to escape from the others to taste the country better, to receive images seen deepening them. Today shore, tomorrow the open sea ... The broad tomorrow? Moment that passes and no more, never be the same. What hours are reserved for me?

Time is always foggy, preventing him from seeing Pico dominate us, but we know now, just after the pier. One of these days in October French, with the sweetness of the air than that envelops you and you feel secure. Oh what a beautiful sailing we do, that the sea seems attractive when the ground is warm, like today.

should go a long way to go "in town", walk past construction sites, the customs building. Then the little pier, which are nestled among the boats, so delicately painted, and so fine: boats lake for the killing. The harpoon sinks ... the line queue. The ancient art it would be courage?

Day festivities, cloudy and joy to the heart. Since this morning, Horta is ready. The bands of the other islands are coming, and the local saint will be paraded through the streets. Here the secular to the religious mingles naturally. What fervor and faith which emanate from these simple people, different, preserved in the middle of the ocean. The musicians parade slowly, pausing at times to wait and see the procession. Then come the schools. Because they are beautiful, children Azorean! Their eyes are as blue black lava that is their country. A strange race, or inbreeding could be feared degeneration, and that seems so pure. Contemplation of the crowd is really impressive. Is this the beginning of knowledge so close makes me want to stay wild, learn more about these lovable people, to discover the best? Stay, yes, stay only a few more days. Ah! if I was alone ... One day I will return. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The wind reached a part of the sky, taking away the haze, causing more clouds. The water level in the ewe gusts falling from mountains, and mast vibrates sometimes. Bad weather? Of course I think about it, perhaps waiting for us there outside. My baptism with the risk of being washed off. But I'm not here just for this?

As time passes, the nervousness in the rest of my crew wins. Stay longer, yes. But since I know it is not possible, then leave. Is it the anxiety that creeps insidiously into me? No, this is a difficult emotion to express even more to master. The same voice that triggered the timer counting down the seconds before departure, at the time of hill climbing. This sense of excitement for me is the moment where nothing happened yet, but also where nothing is as before. If I were to summarize it, it would be a thought: "Desire to do well." But is it not pretty much the motto which appears in French on the pedestal of a statue in a garden of Horta?

Azores, Horta. The images of the early lead in others, are resurface, interconnected. ... Port of Horta, how do you leave without having mentioned the Cafe Sport, who can gather all by himself all the nostalgia of all the pubs in the world? Peter and the boss, which summarizes and personifies the Azores and temperament so special: the kindness, selflessness above all, become so rare nowadays. ... Where are you now, fellow-stop birds of passage: English blonde on his fifty, people of Galapagos, Damien and the others? ...

First night aboard the boat. Sleep does not come easily. Images run through my head: plane, airport. I wake up in a single bound, climbs the stairs down and fixed, hallucinating, light orange and flood the deck of a warship docked right behind us Portuguese. Sleep had to come. ...

First meeting: Mark on the plane taking us to Spain. First contact with other team members. A good team, I think. The air is sweet and clear skies. The walk is nice to go downtown; affinities emerge, jokes fuse. Tomorrow is decided, we leave. So tonight, the last dinner ashore, with lots of butter and fries for the French wine and Pico.

Make fuel, the latest provisions, identify the various maneuvers. The wind blows fresh. Start sailing from the dock. All images are accelerating. We're outside. Goodbye ... Horta

Rather stirred Faial Channel, and the first contacts with the steering wheel are really confusing ...! Nice wake-tooth saw this look of reaching. Anyway, my classmates seem to have the same problems - except Michael and Philip, who arrived from West Indies - which earned us our first lesson in practical work by Raymond, our skipper - While the less you taste ... turn, the better it goes.

Her eyes so blue, washed out all the water spray from all received during his years of Bourlingue, his eyes were laughing so often assault. His mouth off quietly the words one by one, as he does every time he explains. Seek to understand today with us tomorrow to others, his passion for teaching can not be separated from his love of the sea without a boat Raymond? Unthinkable, but also boat without students.

Faial is diluted in the twilight; Pico is finally showing, for a farewell, a nod, the drowned body in the clouds. The remains of meals eaten in the cockpit to leave the sea skipper remains outside alone and at night surrounds us: the first night at sea ... Trying to sleep ... Taken from quarter to two hours.

Elie teamed with me. The Swiss computer scientist born in Greece, skin matte East intensely fixed the compass rose, half hidden by the small copper cupola. He left her for a while Nestle milk cartons, but kept his accent.

more wind. We glide in the phosphorescence even a node. Tirelessly headlights Graciosa, Sao Jorge correspond. Magic of the night. Gentle and quiet. These blowers discrete, these lines of greenish glow around the hull: our first dolphins who visit us. The change of scenery is then total: porpoises and soft breezes, night shift and fires unknown; pretty emotional moments to hold your breath

With the dawn the wind came back, and we allow a change headsail. Graciosa begins to fade in a haze, Terceira stands far to starboard. The wide before us, the real one, that we will see more land before a dozen days. Terceira, Azores last vision ...

The sea air, which swells the chest and the sails of the boat is there and there. Downwind, force 5 to 6, deep blue and white sheep, clear sky and blazing sun. My God that navigation is pretty! I will remain so throughout the morning to enjoy my pleasure, lying in the rear, my guitar between the arms. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

. Night shift, heavy eyelids and a headache, which is growing. The hours are long! This angina that I hang for several days, and I tried to ignore since I left, this evil that makes me wince to swallow won. The hours passed, and I can not get to sleep, punctuated by the change of shifts which I no longer participates, burning with fever.

The days pass, one, two, three, four ... So, lying on the couch, getting up only to swallow as the bowl of broth made by Raymond, I wonder what I'm damn well come here, and I rise to hate this life at sea as I wanted to love, to want to share any anything against the decision of this upwind sailing, boat typing in the waves. -

You know, I said to Mark, I love anything in the boat, I can not find right now. But of course, how could he understand that he is healthy, and that rhymes with quart bar, rest with dodo?

The wind blows and blows forcefully upwards. It is night, "Similou" dark blind and violently slap in each hollow. Very suddenly a strong gust of heel, and the anti-roll bar not only kept me much trouble. I hear the skipper say, "that one, I could not avoid it."

One of the guys through the square, drawing back a sail bag: Raymond decided to put the storm. And all of a sudden, total change for that wind strength and sea: the boat is at the cape, and no longer remains a slight sway, even the voice of the elements seems to have subsided.

Of all these days and nights spent at the bottom of this confusing fog of feverish memories I still feel like a bad dream. And then slowly, I took my place in the team. First day shifts, followed by those of night. The cruise continued.

Quarterfinals day at the bar, relaxed, with nothing but the sea around this limitless visibility and a way to go, so small and narrow, it forces the eye to look at the compass every minute.

Quarter night without tense, whispered words, quickly extinguished lamp, square chocolate taste so tasty. It's cold outside and we're not above that with the waxed jackets and sweaters, mittens and heavy to steer. Where is the reality of a time alizéen, has long dreamed of and symbolizing for me this trip? Playful breezes, headwind, cold winter. Not really, Atlantic at this latitude can not play the tropics.

Day after day, we win in the east, and lies on the road map. Sextant, magical instrument. Initiation is accomplished, and I now tu the sun, I can be in the liquid universe around us. Visual impression of being in the same place on the moving carpet, denied by those items on the map.

breezes crazy that we receive on the bow require us to make long edges, and the timing of a point often disappointing in view of the zigzag stitch drawn on paper. La Coruna is on starboard, a hundred miles. Dream of call which goes ... Once again, back one day, alone can decide on the continuation or stopping, pointing the nose of the boat to where I see fit, to chart the points arising from my decisions. Patience ... "Before being captain," says the proverb. I now know that anything is possible, if I want, and when I can. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....

Last night shift. We will see the earth, the earth today. For now, we distinguish only the bow, embedded in a dense curtain of rain. Rain and wind, rumbling sound: the storm is near.

all fours, I'm progressing forward. At the hawse, well watered by the seas launched horizontally, I pull a good length of chain and hit back at the foot of a brace, while the rest with water: the mast for lightning, continuity of the iron allows the "launch" of lightning ... in theory! I prefer not having to check visually. An arrival, it watered! I soaked it returns to the cockpit where Elijah, dripping and stoic, working to negotiate the highest waves.

And, as always, just after rain or shine. And the first light of day we are left with a quarter amount, not wanting to miss when we descry the land.

And after the nice weather comes the mist ...! Since yesterday, the goniometer being broken, only estimates allows us to locate the island of Yeu. So we are all on deck, meaning outstretched, eyes fixed on imaginary horizon, crossed a half-mile slick that by padding that surrounds us in its cocoon. The boat heeled only makes its way by a light wind. What a contrast between the calm of the elements and the tension we feel!

is very vague at the beginning, a sort of dark aura which contrasts with the gray room. And then, very quickly unfolds the tall Lighthouse Dogs Perrins, the northwestern tip of the island. Intense emotion, joy exploded. We managed a perfect landing.

We see the land for the first time in fourteen days from Terceira in the Azores. We reached the road between our wire two islands ... And this vision out of the mist at this precise moment, holds the magic for me, as it is true that sea I felt the feeling of being out of nowhere to get anywhere, to be beyond time and space ... The immateriality, maybe the sea? What could I wish What else back?

Diagram Of A Labeled Viking Ship

PROFILE




Many dream about it, some do ... Going to sea and live on board for one year or longer. A lifestyle choice that requires certain provisions ...


When we speak of the "big start ", it is often the ideal boat issue, destinations, means of subsistence ...

But" what about "the sailor or crew? Yet thereof will depend largely successful or failure of the experiment.

Some are probably more talented than others accéder.C there is what I propose to speak here ...

I think we should first wring the neck of some beliefs, including the statement, if it is tinged with humor, in my opinion reflects a rather simplistic conception of the world think there marin.Je the "boat is the way the slowest, most uncomfortable, etc. ...", or "the two happiest days are those when you buy a boat, and when it is sold ..."

Whoever, in the depths of himself, thinks that there is some truth is certainly not ready for departure. For it is no longer making circles in the water, but to radically change lifestyles, and precisely the move constantly between day where we buy and when it sells.

Therefore basically a love boat strong enough to devote his time (and money, I will return) and make it a lifestyle. What for one will just appear and inconvenience for the other performance and satisfaction. This avoids a lot of people, simple observation.

must also naturally have a taste for travel. But secondarily, because if the journey is the priority, why not a camper? As I read recently, "navigos" rarely see the inside of the countries visited. It is undoubtedly true (unless you have sufficient means), but it seems to me that this is not the priority, it remains the sea

leaving, it is well to penetrate that what was a recreational navigation (weekend or holiday) will become a way of life of its own (how many O), and his boat habitat for many months or more.

For some who build, the result will not only mark the end of their efforts, but also and especially the access to this new life they sometimes wait a long time.

Presumably to start a business as long term, their love of the sea and sailing is puissant.Cependant can sometimes see some automakers, too, without wanting to admit, found their happiness with their hands to shape the object of their dreams, more than in his later use ... and start building the "meter longer.

After all, why not? "The Faith is more beautiful than God ... "

There comes the moment to cast off." Hoist the jib, everything is paid

...". Obviously, let alone run, with all the stench that the word has a pejorative, free posting of consumer goods which we make our ordinary experience will be better that he not only suffered, but waited, hoped to see.

For what good from a boat sailing, if only to recreate board or call the conditions of life that we just leave?

I mean the thousand and one ties that link us to the world and its vortex : Television, radio, newspapers, magazines ...

Some exclaim that these lines is the time of Christopher Colom, is that neither Neanderthals or australopithecines.

I reply: do you really tried to do without all these things if necessary?

So if you leave, make a small this.You see that it adapts very well, and found the flavor of the evenings, the warmth of the meetings and the taste for good books.

But of course, as he navigates each veut.On is free.

Ah, freedom precisely! Is not it that we Research along the great listening? Yes, it's probably one of the keys to happiness, and happiness on the water. But we must not delude ourselves.

If one leaves one's chains, is to find others.

Without doubt it is freer, the guy who goes with his backpack. Because the boat asked that we take care of him (but when you love, you do not count) and where a ... Free

also pointing the bow where you will, yes, but in a still frame, taking into account the seasons ...

And probably most importantly, to enjoy his new life, one must also be free in his head. Freedom does taste good unless it is accompanied by an absence of worry, or at least reducing, wherever possible.

financial concerns: they can ruin a large cruise began auspiciously. If life on the water stress generated by lack of resources, I doubt that happiness is the rendezvous. But again, everything is a matter of scale, and each a minimum ... .

family or emotional concerns, in the broadest sense. A topic rarely addressed, yet important one.

loneliness is not like me for a "lack of freedom." It would Instead, to simplify things ... That said, there are also two solitudes, at sea or not. The vast majority of "travelers sailors" being a couple, I think there are still some provisions are needed for long distance sailing smoothly.

A couple is two people. Two guys, a man / woman ... What is important is to look in the same direction, with a goal and common tastes. I do not know if on earth there are "differences that enrich," but I think they separate at sea aboard plutôt.A or stops, there are few loopholes, and no doubt a couple s 'intends to moderately earth does not end up turning their backs on mer.C is also a frequent cause of failure of the trip.

Suitcases emotional, but also those that are left behind on shore. And it's not the easiest to manage. To those who remain, and are concerned about the departure of carrier pigeons, or sadden them, I would say that "love is wanting happiness of others, without necessarily taking part."

The boat is solid? The valiant crew? The bags not too heavy, and freedom awaits you ...

It seemed to me that curiosity and altruism, combined with some extraversion and a provision for languages were advantages to the credit of a successful trip.

Nobody's perfect, and everyone does it with a. However, some have more facilities than others to fit the mold sailor. This does not hold true to the size of the boat, but the possession of values in line with this kind of vie.Une life so different than here perhaps more than elsewhere, the 'important c' is to love. "