I post pictures, videos, and the occasional bit of writing on this site primarily for my own enjoyment. I use it to show what I've been doing, where I've been going, and what is going on in my head.
Enjoy!
Funny how when I wrote the date above, in my head I was saying it with the announcer voice of the Daily Show with Jon Stewart...
Anywhoodle, since my little neck fiasco I haven't been cranking on my boat as much, but I also took two weeks off to play with my lovely lady Aimee while she was back in town for her break from work in Alaska. We went to the drive-in with my 4Runner, ate lots of food, went horseback riding and hiking, shooting and looting (well, not THAT much looting), looked at some artwork downtown (WAY cool Mad-Houses on Capitol Hill), and I spent a bunch of time looking for a new car...
But now that I'm more on the road to recovery and I'm back to sleeping alone, I'm spending Sunday-Thursday working on my boat at the shipyard, and working at InnerSea Discoveries as a sub-full-time "Special Project Support Lead" - which means I have a desk, computer, phone, and an ever-growing inbox goodies to sort through, most all pertaining to the maintenance and ongoing improvements of our 8 vessels.
In more recent news (as in, the last few hours) I finally dragged my photo gear out of storage for a short 30-minute headshot session with my high-school girlfriend Vickie (she needed a photo for her medical school applications). Although not the creative, multi-light, super-action shots that I'd normally be jonesing for, it was good to get the gear out and play a little. Perhaps I'll leave the gear on board for some slacklining shots with the truck?
On the boat side of things, I've got the pilothouse in place, with all metalwork tacked at 4" intervals and prepped for stitching Sunday afternoon. No windows have been cut yet, as I still need to fill in the existing windows and deck penetrations before I can start doing the fun stuff. There is still a significant amount of metalwork to be done, including a safety rail system, lazerette hatch reconfiguration, deck strengthening (to prevent oil-canning), interior bulkhead and furniture anchors, and abandoned random holes that seemingly litter the boat (it will be much, much sleeker when I'm done though!). Living aboard in the Fall is seeming less and less likely every day, but we'll just have to see. Anywho, below are some photos from the past month or so!
Well, after seven years of living in Seattle, I finally found myself IN Seattle for the 4th of July, one of my most favorite holidays! I went sailing with my dad and some friends of his on Augusta for the afternoon, then in the evening I trekked through insane downtown traffic to the marina where I used to keep Rafiki, and where Katy and Charlie have their houseboat (think block party on the water: it was nuts! : ) Charlie and I took (thinking of a name...Rafiki II?) my 12' Hobie sailboat out into the turmoil and fun of Lake Union and barely made it back before the police shut down the lake for the fireworks, and in the process we took on water-balloon fire from unknown enemy craft, no shots were returned. I then spent a bit of time at another houseboat mooching off their 3-story height, and chatting with a nice fellow from Bangkok, who his uncle introduced as "Big." Whether it was the proximity to the Sleepless in Seattle houseboat and the associated Tom Hanks connection, my misunderstanding, or some other reference, I may never know. But Big seemed to have quite an interest in photography, and he was really stoked to be in the USA for a few months (he'd already been to New York, and was telling me how cool it was, and I was jealous... : ) Back in M-F land, I had a good day at the boat today, and successfully raised and tack welded the roof section in on my pilothouse, ending the mean streak that put me on a daily dose of ibuprofen last week. Whose yo daddy, I say!
Today I screwed up, and now my neck hurts (short version).
The longer version would go over the details of how I ended up under a 250lb+ piece of steel that measures roughly 106" x 54". The following is said version:
For as long as I've owned my boat I've had the idea that I'd "raise the roof" on her and give myself a bit more headroom to ease the neck-ache that would ensue from all of the crouching (ironic, yes?) due to the low ceiling that came with her. So when I began work on Rafiki two weeks ago, all projects had something to do with preparing the boat for this rather hefty bit of boat surgery. It would involve cutting out and relocating structural members, grafting in new sheet metal with the old, fairing and painting, then eventually insulating and adding a nice interior finish. But dirt before glory, and for the past week I've been cutting, welding, and grinding like a fiend. Yesterday I made a tool to guide a Sharpie marker around the edge of the cabin sheet metal to establish a series of cut lines so that everything would line up evenly when it came time to fabricate the new cabin sides, and today I began (and accident aside, finished) the cutting. Unfortunately for me, once the roof was completely severed from the boat Gravity raised it's ugly head and we began the Battle for Middle Earth (or the maritime equivalent). I had placed a series of clamps under the roof section to support the weight when all was cut free, and had also designed my cuts in a way that they would prevent the piece from falling inward (like it ended up doing...). Anywho, it all went as planned until I decided that I'd use my He-Man-Woman-Hating power (that's a Little Rascals quote, BTW: I love women) to RAISE THE ROOF. My theory was to lift it up just enough to slide a long pipe section under the roof but above the deck - simple enough in theory. Anywhoodle, between Gravity and overestimating my abilities, the whole thing slid and came crashing down on my noggin, knocking me to the bilge floor and leaving me quite dazed (but glad to have basic motor abilities - no immediatly noticable pinched nerves, broken bones, or excessive bleeding. If this just ends up being a really sore neck, then I'm definitely crossing off one of my 9 lives, because it was a real doozie. Even within the first few minutes after the accident, I made the video above, and had decided that I'd be heading to the Emergency Room ASAP, and even felt a bit foolish for not calling an ambulance. That said, the doctor didn't fret too much about it, but perhaps it was the concept of a boat ceiling falling that he didn't understand: I probably should have told him a small refrigerator fell on my head from a second story building. Anyway, after a series of X-rays and an ibuprofen I was back on the road, although rather stiff. I'm going to visit my family doctor later in the week, but plan on getting that roof raised before the 4th! Boys, we're just not that bright all the time... : )
But hey, I'm alive, well, and for some reason still excited about working on this ridiculous boat of mine! It must be the summer sun.
Photos: Horned Puffin taking off, S. Marble Island, GBNP Stellar's Sea-lion, S. Brother Island, Alaska Winston, Renee, and Athena Warr aboard M/V Athena Rose Bow of Wilderness Adventurer, Near Ketchikan, Alaska Spirit of '98 (I live between bridge and the black smokestack)
Well, I suppose that goes to say that I've been busy, but it also says something about the availability to access the internet on a real computer, and not just my stupid iPhone. Busy-wise I was working on my 4Runner, as the sudden death of my beloved Camry "Pimp Wagon" came with little warning and left me ("OMG - how does he SURVIVE?") with only one vehicle - Big Red. After a few weeks of tinkering and improvements the beast now appears to demonstrate some behaviors I'm not too happy with, mainly the 12mpg fuel "economy." I feel disgusted using the word "economy" in relation to this vehicle, because it really, really doesn't fit. Moving on... After I determined that the Pimp Wagon was doomed ($2000 to rebuild transmission...and the engine would still have 295,500mi on it...waste of money), I was offered a fill-in position on one of our company boats, the Safari Quest, so I went up for a week of Alaska bliss. The crew was a mix of old and new, and like usual everyone was wonderful to work with - a real treat for Seattle-Summer-Danny. I spent a fair amount of time with the new 1st Mate learning him up on how the boat ran, and it was a total pleasure working with someone who was open to learn, intelligent, but not cocky. Anywho, towards the end of the trip I pulled out my camera at a popular birding site, S. Marble (Smarble) Island in Glacier Bay National Park, in hopes of something cool to appear before my lens. Low-and-behold, my phoenix appeared, and in a pair! Totally unexpected, two Horned Puffins went tearing by our port side, shot past the bow (and with the exception of GBNP Sarah, unnoticed by all guests) and plopped into the water just in front of the boat! So as we crept forward these elegant diving/flying/walking birds casually swam away, then broke into flight, right in front of my machine-gunning camera. Yay! I've been wanting to get a closer photo of this particular species for a couple of years, and although I'm always yearning for more, this shot makes me pretty darn smiley. I was editing it on the plane ride back from Ketchikan on Saturday, and I could hardly contain myself. Now, when I got home on Saturday night, I danced around like a teenage girl with excitement in my new freedom (blasting the new Britney Spears album like a total fool), but even as I was swirling a glass of cognac before heading to bed, I knew that I would eventually find myself against the grindstone yet again, and even as I write this my to-do list is growing. My steel Titan of a sailboat, Rafiki, sits in the South of Seattle (not unlike the South of France, just a tad more industrial I'm told), waiting for me to bestow my love upon her. Now, I know what you're thinking: Rafiki isn't a female name. But let me interject my opinion on the matter: true, Rafiki is the name of the wizard-Mandrill in Disney's "Lion King," and said character appears to be of the male gender. HOWEVER - I picked the name for two reasons that don't denote gender differences: 1). It sounds cool to me. 2). It's meaning in Swahili can be interpreted as either "friend or companion." Now, what better name for the material soul-mate with whom of dedicated so much of my time? And it sounds cools too! No-brainer. I had considered two other names, Victoria Rose (after my first girlfriend...yeah...) or the Diana K., after my mother. Now, seeing as I like sex, companionship, laughter, home-cooked meals, snuggling, and all the wonderful benefits of my relationship with Aimee, I'd be cracked out of my f*&king mind to name a boat after another girlfriend, so again, a no-brainer. Now, not naming it after my mother was a much tougher decision, but it really came down to matching the name with the boat. A woman is sleek, elegant, loving, nurturing, kind, firm, and good natured, and my Mother is no exception. So when I think of a vessel worthy of my mother's namesake, this rusting steel hulk that is my boat is not what I picture. I'm holding off then, until I find myself with a vessel that embraces it's name, much like a Transformer chooses it's driver, to add a little nerdiness to this topic. Moving on, I'm currently living aboard the Spirit of '98, a 192-foot beast of a ship, formerly of Seattle's Cruise West. In addition to sleeping there, I do regular inspections of the boat to make sure it's not on fire, flooding, or being lived on my anyone but myself and the occasional out-of-town employee. It is most definitely an upgrade from living on the Wilderness Adventurer last year, and I'm quite grateful that the opportunity was offered to me. Pictures to follow, someday. For the rest of the summer I plan on spending the weekdays working on my boat, adding a pilothouse, engine, interior, and then launching it in the late Summer or early Fall. On the weekends I hope to be found uni-cycling, riding my trials or downhill bikes, flying kits, playing with cameras, flying helicopters (both real and toy), do some paddling in my kayak (any whitewater folks out there?), and sailing my face off with my dad on Augusta (or on my 12' sailing dinghy, or an RC boat at the S. Lake Union Pond). The list goes on: drive-in movies, lounging on air mattresses on the lake, climbing trips, Whistler trips, a concert or two, summer festivals, 4th of July parties, smoking cigars, smoking the sheesha (FYI - that is a type of tobacco, not weed... : ), checking out the...entertainment...at Greenlake, 4-wheelin' with my truck (finally!), and just kicking back and drinking fermented beverages. Life is good. Well, I must get to work, as it is a weekday, and I've got some sorting to do this Monday, as there are a lot of loose ends that I need to tie up before I launch into psycho-Danny work mode. I'll hopefully be picking up one of our company's spare Clearwire modems this week, so I won't have to trek ALL THE WAY across the street to Cafe Appassionato for internet service - and that means more CL-ing, blog-posting, and....well, other things. : )
PS - Call, text, or email me anytime you've got something summer-like to do, as I've been missing out for the last 6 years, and would love to do as much as possible with the time I've got!
Well, in truth, only one helicopter, but it was great! I've been in on the Safari Spirit for the last week bringing the boat up to Alaksa for the 2011 season, but on our way up we were tasked with setting up a remote wilderness kayaking station on Lake Patterson, which is connected to the Patterson Glacier (near Petersburg, AK). Our mission was to hike 5 miles into moose, bear, raging bull, and Kooshtika territory and clear a spot for a helicopter to drop our kayak rack and 8 kayaks, and return safely. We won. In fact, we won to such a degree that instead of hiking back from the lake on the last day, the pilot of the sexy little MD500D gave all three of us a ride back to the boat! I had noted that in the past 6+ years in Alaska, I have never stumbled upon the opportunity to take a ride in a whirly bird, or even a float plane - but low and behold, a turbine rotorcraft ride was bestowed upon me in my last few weeks before I head back to Seattle! Anywho, I've got a couple more weeks of work left, but here are the photos from the trip....
So today I sit in an air conditioned little hole in the wall, typing away on a computer that continually wants to spell-check me into typing in Spanish, and I want to kill it! : ) Anywho, I´m still coughing up a lung every once an awhile from the evil sickness I picked up soon after arriving, but it isn´t holding my entire body hostage like it did for the first week or so. I left Christian back in Manzanillo on Wednesday night after doing some shopping for health-food items to get him through the week of sickness that was looming at his doorstep when I left, but I´m afraid that he´s probably eaten all of the frosted dounuts by now and is moving onto the pasteries. When I got into ¨Z-Town¨ as some the old white folks call it, I caught a cab to the marina area and then rather promptly found a little hotel that isn´t exactly a hotel – but for 150 pesos/night, who can complain¿ I just had to use one of those upside-down question marks – they´re so fun, verdad?¿! Anywho, my ¨hotel¨ has water and power, (and cable in fact), but the shower head I busted off on the first try (it was rather corroded from lack of use) and the lack of opening windows makes it a bit of a hot box when I use the room (so I stay out a fair amount during the day). Anywho, it is a quiet area where I´m staying, near the water and in the artsy-tourist district, so I have lots of chances to buy Mexican bobble-head armadillos and things that say ¨Zihuatanejo¨ on them, and I suppose that is a big bonus for some folks. I, on the other hand, wonder what the heck I´m doing, and often find myself pondering the idea of purpose, and what mine is in life. What to do for work, where to live and why, things to chase, and places to invest myself. Those things are driving me a bit mad, and the armadillos aren´t helping. Vacation for me would be best experienced as a 3 or 4-day weekend at home: I like where I live, and purpose is easier to find there. My lady, boat, work, schooling – they all wait for me at home, and I long for them here. Anywho, I´m hoping to rock out some serious work on Rafiki starting in early May and not stop until the boat is livable and comfy, but in the mean time I´ll just be working on the Wilderness boats, having my cake, and eating it too!ç
I catch an 8:00am bus tomorrow to Acapulco, then have to scramble my way to the airport by 4:00-something in the afternoon to catch my flight back home to Seattle. Sometime between now and Seattle I´ll hopefully be able to get in a meal or two, throw back a cocktail (I attempted to drink a 1.2L bottle of Corona last night, unsuccessfully), and shake off the dust that is continually forming around my ankles and blanket (well, I don´t exactly have a Linus-esque blanket I carry, but you get the idea).
Finally, the pictures:
#1 – North Manzanillo Anchorage, taken from Altair (view from hotel at top is Mind-blowing)
#2 & #3 – Myself and Aimee, taken two weeks ago with my new beauty dish and grid
#4 – Christian with a flash bounced off ceiling (a blue-green ceiling), Melaque
#5 – Cool painting in an empty gallery, ethically bad of me, but had to do it.
#6 – Contorted dog, in a random alley while I was wandering around Zihuatanejo.
I think I've caught a traveling nervous disorder, although I'm not 100% certain since it hasn't happened in three's just yet. The first symptom occurred on January 4th, 2011, when Aimee and I were held up at customs in super long lines, and our flight left without us (my first missed flight ever). Then this morning, not even two months later, I found myself standing at an empty gate, wondering why my flight wasn't boarding at a mere 5-minutes to the scheduled departure - and the attendant told me that it had boarded at a different gate 25 minutes prior. So much for getting to the airport super early in hopes of blazing through security (which I had). Anywho, I was quickly put on the next available flight which turned out to be only 30 minutes later, and I was on my way once again! International connection crisis averted! Fast forward one gross Burger King breakfast and seven hours later, and you'd find me casually laying on the oddly soft crab grass at the Manzanillo Aeropuerto, waiting for some form of Christian (maybe a Catholic, a Baptist, or even someone resembling the friend I'm meeting) to appear an sweep me away to an aquatic Mexican paradise. But no one was there, so I opened my new TSA locks on my Pelican case (first time traveling with it in a non-work related journey) and snapped off a shot of me on said crabgrass (again, surprisingly soft!), and contemplated nothing - it was great. Minutes later and with a slowly-clearing cache of city-life opening my brain up to more brilliant colors and smells, a Christian tried to creep up from behind me, but I saw him and foiled his plot to startle me (that's Danny - 2, Christian - 0, for the record). After a good embrace, hello, and introduction to the kindly and providing Kip (or Christobol) who was giving us a ride back to Melaque, we cranked the A/C worked our way to the beach. Past the truck filled with maniquins, around the roadside machinegun turrets, to Grandmother's house we go! We arrived at the Bungalows at San Pedro 20-something minutes later, and upon exiting the car Christian began singing "Maria....!" in his best WSS immatation. And yes, I just abbreviated a classic. Anywho, out onto the second story veranda peeks a slender, beautiful woman with a voice like...well, a French-Canadian Chinese Jazz singer. And, low and behold, if she isn't just that! Now this may seem a bit odd here in Mexico, but in fact this small town is nearly run-over by Canadians! Seriously, population density almost puts the local Mexicans in the minority! Seriously? Well, for what it's worth, the tacos are cheap, the language barrier isn't inpenetrable, and the mood is positive and mild. But then again, it IS Sunday night, and we caught the tail end of the 7-o'clock mass as we were strolling the streets looking for a specific pizza joint with a Pink Floyd poster of painted ladies. Fast forward two hours, we ate the pizza, I attempted to teach 13 to Maria and Christian with a non-suited deck of Mexican cards (40 cards, apparently...), and failed. So then it turned to magic tricks using the before-mentioned Mexican cards, followed by more laughs and ultimately, failure. : ) I've got internet access tonight, and some time to unwind, so I thought I'd hit up the ol' blogger before we said off for a few weeks (I have no idea when I'll be in a city again, except for when I fly out of Acapulco on the 12th. In the photos above, you'll see an aerial photo of the bay, and another of the bay we're anchored in. If you look directly south of the "M" in Melaque, where that line meets the beach is where we are, and it's a nice anchorage. Sandy bottom, northern protection, limited swell wrap, and easy-access tacos. Mmm-Mmmm-Good.
Today was cold, and I just happen to be installing two watermakers on the back, exterior deck of the WND, and I had snow blowing in my face for a good part of the day. Yay. Anywho, weather complaint aside, the work has been enjoyable, forgettable, and ultimately satisfactory. For my first three weeks I installed new overhead recessed lighting for the dining room, lounge, bar, and purser's office using run-of-the-mill Home Depot lighting, and for the last week I've been installing two 1800GPD reverse-osmosis watermakers, a project that I'll be finishing in mid-March when I return from Mexico. I leave for Manzanillo on Sunday morning quite early, but I'm already packing gear, buying supplies for Christian (top of the list: Starburst and Jolly-Rancher jelly beans... : ), organizing computer files, and cleaning off the desk. Interestingly enough, the only time my desk looks like I want it to is when I leave for somewhere, but it's otherwise overflowing. Anywho, here are a few photos from the project: I've been quite slow in updating the ol' blog recently, and it kills me...inside.
For the first time in my life I had an email account hijacked, raped, pillaged, and plundered. Fortunately it wasn't a critical account, but the way the hacker went about things was quite tricky, and well tailored to my lifestyle. The violator sent a message with the following text:
-----Original Message----- From: Dan Blanchard Sent: Wed, Feb 23, 2011 6:50 pm Subject: Please respond it's very urgent
It’s me, Danny , I really don't mean to inconvenience you right now, I made a little trip to UK and I misplaced my luggage that contains my passport and credit cards, I know this may sound odd, but it all happened very fast. I need to get a new passport and a ticket, but I'm short of funds to pay for my ticket and other miscellaneous expense. Please, can you lend me some funds to get a ticket? I'll be willing to pay back as soon as I get home.
Please respond as soon as you get this message, so I can forward you my details to send the funds to me, OR you can drop a message via the hotel's desk phone if you can. The numbers are, +447024035615.
I await your response Dan Blanchard
----End of Message-----
I find this quite crafty, in that the story probably came off as a bit believable in my case, as I do more traveling (vacation or not) than the average Joe, and would likely contact friends and loved ones via email, as nobody these days really memorizes phone numbers. Anywho, I hope nobody was fooled into calling the hotel, or emailing the Violator with Western Union wire transfers (although if you did, thanks for being such a good, if not a bit gullible, friend! : )
In other news, I've been working on the Wilderness Discoverer for the past 3-weeks, and will be continuing to work there until the boats sail to Alaska in early May. I had originally planned on working on my boat during this time, but it's freaking cold, and I had to opportunity to make some good money on a heated boat - so yes, I make lemonade. When the boats are gone I'll switch over to Rafiki mode, and spend the summer working on her, and her alone! I don't plan on working for $$ over the summer, so my weekends will be spent adventuring, drinking, eating, and socializing to my heart's content, and the weekday will be a wonderful bliss of checking account depletion and sailboat completion.
Also: I'm leaving for Manzanillo on Sunday morning to visit my friend Christian in Mexico, and I'll be spending two weeks with him exploring that neck of the world while at the same time sailing to Acapolco, where I fly out of. I'm still back and forth about bringing an onslaught of camera gear down with me, but we'll just see how I feel when the time comes.
(The first video is a slideshow of all of our favorite pictures from the trip - the audio has been disabled by youtube's music licensing department, but you can just pretend! : )
What a wonderful place, this Munda is! We all agree that everytime we move from one place to the next in the Solomon Islands, it is nicer than the last, and it hasn’t failed yet! Munda is in the mid-section of New Georgia Island, on the SW facing side of the island. There is one main road that leads from the northern end of the airstrip (where the Japanese landed all of their war-mongering equipment prior to the Battle for New Georgia), and then south to Pt. Munda, where the US Marines landed after forcing the Japanese out of Guadalcanal. The “downtown” section of Munda consists of a Police station, an airfield, a Post Office, four near-identical stores (although one has air conditioning, which is a real treat), the Agnes Lodge, an ANZ ATM, and a wharf for a landing craft to unload it’s supplies. It would take a healthy adult about 7 minutes to visit every one of these places, and buy a betelnut on the way. Once you’re out of town (about 100m), the homes start appearing, and they’re beautiful! They have plants, gardens, nice siding and roofs, and most folks will say hello even if you don’t – a real fine feeling. There is also a significantly smaller amount of rubbish laying around, and in general it is quite a bit cleaner than any of the other places we’ve been so far. Last night when Aimee and I were taking an evening stroll, we were stopped by a man on the side of the road who wanted to show us some of his carving work, so we went with him! Normally, however, I deny myself the pain of such ploys to get money out of tourists, but so far in the Solomons no one had treated us like that, so I was willing to give it a go. And we couldn’t have made a better decision, as we later found out after spending a total of about an hour and a half chatting with Harold, who besides being a great carver was also a Dive Master, spearfishing guide, father, husband, and just all-around nice person. He showed me exactly how he would procure, process, stencil, polish, carve, and finish his work, and he let me look at the various tools he employed to get the best results. Of course, over the course of talking about carving, life, etc, he mentioned some nearby plane wrecks, and how he would go spearfishing off them…..and my eye, ears, and brain went into a tunnel-minded euphoria… : ) I wanted to see his guns (he said he made one of them), and he was more than excited to show them off, much like his carving work, and I just soaked it all in as best I could. I really wish I had had a camera with me at the time, but this gun was epic: nearly 7’ in length, with an 8’ spear, fully hand-made from the full length stock (with intricately carved grip, and “Harold Pao” in the side) to the hand-formed tip. It used a wooden cantilever made with rubberband and a SS pin as a trigger mechanism (Christian, I’ll make you a drawing if you remind me), a PVC tube as a front guide, a 3/16” stainless steel shaft made from a piece of an old fish conveyor belt system, and standard nylon line attached to a spoon handle, which was then drilled and fitted to the shaft as a slider. Amazing. And he said he brought in a 15kg Sierra with this rig, which he had been using for 5 years. Anywho, we bought a couple small carving bits from him, including one manta ray pennant which he hadn’t finished (but that’s why I wanted it). See, I’ve been wanting to get into trinket-making for awhile now, as it would give me something to do in my travels, and allow me to make gifts for friends back home that weren’t of the mass-production nature – something unique. So when we were swapping paper for pieces, I asked Harold if I could have a piece of shell to take home with me, so that I might get some tools like his and try my hand at carving some oyster – and he more than obliged by picking out 4! beautiful, full-sized gold and black lipped oyster shells and giving them to me. Like they say, “give a man a fish, and you provide him a meal – but teach him to fish, and you give him a life.” Same thing with carving – I’m totally stoked to go back home to Hardwicks, pick up a set of files, blades, etc, and get to work! When we left, Harold told us that if we ever do make it back to Munda, that he’d love to take us diving, fishing, and just get to know us better – and the feeling is mutal. He had a beautiful family, they were kind and giving, and I’m already looking for an excuse to come back and go diving….and maybe spend a lot less time at the hotel, and more time with the locals.
Anywho, earlier today we check out the “War Museum,” which is in fact a private collection of WWII relics that one of the local men put together over the course of the last 8 years. Landing gear from P38’s, Hellcats, etc – tons of helmets, knuckle-dusters, bayonets, machine guns of all sizes, ammunition, grenades, dog-tags, belts, bones, cooking supplies, ID plaques off of machinery (which I found to be quite interesting), shaving kits, a model plane made from scrap metal and bullets, phones, chemical weapons canisters, bombs, wing sections, and all sorts of other bits and pieces from the war that came and went on soil than belonged to neither side. Anywhozzle, after getting quite the history on the area and the battles that were fought here, we headed back to base, I drank my half-frozen Coke I had left in the freezer, and headed off for our final dinner at Agnes. Tomorrow we head off to Tetepare Eco Lodge, where there is no power, so this bit of writing won’t be…well, fresh when you read it! There is the possibility that we’ll be out of phone/email/smoke-signal range for the next few weeks, so we’ll just have to see how that goes. One last, final note: We were walking down the quiet jungle road when an approaching boy walking in the opposite direction passed, singing the latest Eminem song in the top-40 category, and we both were a bit befuddled by the whole scene, recalling how in the 1930’s headhunting was finally fading away, how in the 1940’s this place was bombed and shot to heck, and how even in the late 1990’s it had become a police state because of the violent political unrest – but here we were, walking in the mangos and the local boys know the Recovery album better than I do (which says a lot, actually, as I’m quite a fan).
Anywho, the bugs are biting and I’ve got an early morning of ATM running, Lodge paying, packing, and eating ahead of me!
Cheers,
Danny
Connie’s House, Chea, Solomon Islands, 12.21.2010
Writing hasn’t been a routine thing for me lately, so I’m going to try to do some makeup here for the past week! On the morning of the 15th we all packed our gear up and headed down to the docks in front of Agnes Lodge, and we were joined by some Aussies and Kiwis that were doing research work on reef life in the South Pacific, with the Solomons being one of their sampling sites. Also joining us were two more Austrailia women that were taking some time off from their jobs in Honiara to see the more rural, beautiful, and authentic side of the Solomon Islands. After waiting a bit for our boat driver to do some shopping for the Lodge, we all piled in the open boat and made out way SW, past Rendova Island to the north tip of Tetepare Island, where the Tetepare EcoLodge is located. On the ride over we got the chance to fly my kite while underway, and run the camera up with it to get some aerial shots of the boat, the lagoon, and to give us something to do on the two-hour journey. Fortunately the weather was calm and sunny, and we arrived at the newly constructed jetty without a hitch. After being shown to our rooms which were rather basic: no power, all-natural building materials, shared shower and toilets, etc – but fine for us! The Lodge is also the hub for researchers who work with the local turtle, coconut crab, crocodile, and reef life – so we had plenty to learn, see, and experience while we were there! Margaret was our cook/hospitality manager while we were there, and every meal was the perfect fit for each day’s activities. Fried bananas, sweet potatoes, fish, rice, papaya, pancakes, coffee/tea, bush lime juice, and all sorts of other delicious foods were put out in perfect portions three time as day – pure heaven! After each feeding we would take off to some activity or another – snorkeling off the jetty was our first and perhaps most favorite activity of all. From the jetty you could swim left or right, although most of the time we went to the right, where a series of coralheads are marked with bouys that serve the dual purpose of warning off boats, but also guiding snorkelers to the various sand spots, coralheads, and reef walls. It was during these snorkeling trips that we discovered lobster, moray eels, sea urchins, parrot fish, huge shells, sea cucumbers, green sea turtles, large groupers and jacks, butterfly and bannerfish of every variation imaginable, in addition to goby’s, barracudas, tubefish, and hundereds of other species. Of course the last, and most exciting on this list of critters, is the “Dooooooooogggggonnnnngggg!!!!” – also known as a Dugong, much like a manatee. Dirk and I first saw them on our second trip out to the lagoon, a big one and a small one – and we were totally stoked! On our first trip we had chased them around in the boat a bit (which seemed a bit aggressive to all of us, considering that it’s supposed to be an “Eco” lodge), but after half an hour or so of chasing and then jumping in the water, we had bailed without any real close encounters of the Dugong Kind. So when, on our last day, we all four jumped into the water for a post-lunch snorkel and finally spotted the critters moving through the water, we were elated. This time we all got a close-up view of the critters, and I was able to swim alongside them at a distance of about 4’ for about 10 seconds (which seems like a long time when you’re there). These little sea monkeys are nose-breathers (like the sea-lion), have no dorsal fin, have a single tail fluke, and two rounded pectoral fins. Their faces are rather fat and featureless, but unique and interesting no less. Prior to coming to Tetepare (and throughout our stay) Dirk had been singing his love for this mysterious creature, and by the time we left, we were all droning about Dugongs – and in return we got to hang out with them for a bit! But second to the easy-access and amazing snorkeling (in my opinion) was the interaction we got to have with the turtles in the area. Tetepare is one of the nesting grounds for the highly-endangered (maybe it’s critically endangered – I forget the hierarchy of near-extinction) Leatherback Turtle, and the researchers and locals at Tetepare are doing what they can to re-habilitate the population, and we got to go along for the ride. It just so happened that December is a big portion of their breeding season, and while we were there we got to witness both the laying of eggs, and the hatching of a pre-existing nest. The blacksand beach where they nest is the spot where, on average, seven Leatherback turtles come to nest, but only in 3-year cycles. When they do have their eggs, the female will come to shore at 10-day intervals and lay a batch of approxametely 60-120 eggs, then repeat the cycle about six times before returning to feed for the next three years. On this particular beach, due to it’s blackness and therefore heat, the eggs take about 60 days to hatch after they’re laid, as opposed to the 80-something at other beaches. So the Momma Turtle comes in, digs a 3-foot hole in the sand with her rear flippers, then goes into a trance of egg-laying that lasts for nearly two hours before she heads back to sea. Now, just for reference, we’re talking about a 1000lb+ turtle that is over 6-feet long and 4-feet wide. But when she goes tail-down and starts laying eggs, her “trance” is so focused that the researchers are able to walk all around, catch her eggs as they fall into the nest, and cook them up into omelets, all without the Momma Turtle moving. Ok, so maybe they don’t make omelets out of them, but they could. They actually take the eggs and count them, and then take them to a man-made nest in the sand at a different, more secure location on the beach where the eggs can be monitored and protected by the full-time ranger staff at the beach. Wire mesh grids are places over the nests, held down with heavy rocks, and then the nest is marked and labeled with a post. The mesh grids serve as a barrier against the local Monitor lizards, which have an uncanny ability at smelling the eggs, consuming them, and leaving nothing behind. The Monitor’s ability at finding eggs is so precise that rangers in the past have been able to follow the lizards to washed-over sites of recently-laid eggs and use them as bloodhounds to locate the lost nests, of course shooing-away the lizards before they consume the helpless eggs. After approximately 60-days the baby turtles will hatch from their shells, and begin to dig their way through the 3-feet of sand to the surface of the beach, and then the long-haul across the beach to the open water of the lagoon. The researchers are actually able to tell when the first of the new turtles is about to breach the surface, down to the day, by observations to the surface of the sand above the nest. Once the little critters start moving upwards, the sand above them fills in the voids that were their shells, and the surface of the nest forms a concave bowl above them, indicating their upward movement to those above. It was such an observation that got the attention of our in-lodge researcher that brought us out to the beach for the first time. After having a simple fried-rice dinner, we watched a beautiful sunset and settled in around the suspect nest, waiting for the first signs of movement. At around 9pm, we were told that just down the beach an adult female turtle was making her way up to the high-ground, a sign that she may be planning on laying her eggs that night. With great excitement we moved in a hushed mass towards the spot where it had been sited, keeping our bodies low to the ground, as not to provide a silloette that might scare the turtle away, as there was a near-full moon looming overhead. To our dismay, minutes later the turtle turned around (once it had gotten to the top of the beach) and re-entered the water. But in the hushed words being exchanged by the locals, I thought I made out “she’ll be back” in a matter-of-fact tone: and that was that. Later that night the clouds overhead parted to reveal a spectacle of sparkeles that was the Milky Way, and served as a reminder of how small we all are, in a literal sense. With Orion’s Belt and the Southern Cross looking down on us, we slipped into a light slumber. Not much later, at 2:00am, we were waken with news that indeed the female turtle from earlier that night had returned, and this time was in the process of digging the nest, and was about to start laying her eggs! Once again we shuffled along the beach in near-silence until we reached the site where the huge turtle and begun the process of excavating the sand from her nest-to-be. Five distinct lengthwise ridges divided her massive shell, extending from her 10” thick neck to her stubbly little tail, and the flippers worked in practiced precision to form the walls and floor of the nest. Only moments after we arrived, she sighed, breathed some deep breaths, then began the laying process. At that instant flashlights turned on, rangers started moving about and talking, and some started handing the eggs up from the nest as soon as they dropped. Clipboards with paper were brought out, reference photos taken, flipper tags were cleaned and ID numbers recorded, and a tape measure was brought out to take not only turtle dimensions, but also the location of the original nest. From what we were told, once the laying process begins, the surrounding activity has little affect on the process, but I have my doubts still. Perhaps the ol’ girl is only concerned with dropping her eggs and leaving, but even so, I can’t help but thing that the appearance of humans would make any animal (especially one that has been harvested by humans) quite on edge. After the laying was done (something like 110 eggs were laid) the mother used her massive flippers to delicately pile sand back on top of the nest and disguise it from predators as well as possible (of course, the eggs weren’t even in the nest, but she couldn’t see that). Several divots were made in the sand near to the nest to act as diversions to those seeking the location of the nest, but after those were made she began her retreat to the ocean. Slowly, with breaks to catch her impressive breath, she made her way down the beach and back into the sand, returning to the black of the night, leaving us alone in the moonlight. We then returned, tired to a lesser degeee than she, to our places of rest on the beach. After a night of sleeping on the hard sand, with whatever scrap of clothes we brought along as a pillow, we were all thoroughly happy to return to the lodge the next morning for breakfast. Some were a bit sad that we hadn’t seen a hatching, but most were content with witnessing the awesomeness of the egg-laying, and were already looking forward to the next event after breakfast (most likely snorkeling). So after another meal of pancakes, fruit, and coffee or tea, everyone split in their various directions for the day, then re-grouped for lunch later in the afternoon. It was then that talk of returning to the Turtle Beach was discussed, although there had been no interest expressed in spending another uncomfortable night on the hard sand. So the plan was formed to return to the beach after dinner, wait for a few hours for the baby turtles to reach the surface, then return for the night sometime before midnight. Well, just before dinner the call came in on the radio: the baby turtles had breached the surface, and were making their way towards the water. Yikes! We all ditched the idea of dinner (although plenty hungry from the day’s activities) and piles into the small boat (which was about as stable as a slow-spinning top) and headed back to see the little critters make their moonlight journey (although they were in fact a bit early, moving in the light of evening). When we hit the beach there were people already standing around the nest, and a hole that was made the previous night now had a baby turtle in it that appeared dead – not moving at all. A short wave of sadness swept over some, even though we all knew the poor chances that they had from the beginning. But then it moved! With much excitement, we watched with encouraging words as the little critter scrambled his way towards the setting sun, and towards the water. About 30 minutes later we watched our little buddy get smacked by his first wave, then shortly after disappear into the dark water. A bit later another turtle surfaced from the nest, but at the rate they were surfacing, we’d have been there all night – so we jumped back on the boat and made our way back to the Lodge, blasting away at stars with my green laser that I dragged along. The next evening we went out in search of Coconut crabs, but other than one that had baracaded himself in his cave, a crabless night. One highlight, however, was the finding of a glowing mushroom species, yet to be identified. I was able to get a decent picture of the topside of the bell, and the photo should be posted above. Also worth mentioning were the Dugongs, which are similar to Manatee’s, and feed in the lagoons of the Solomon Islands. Tetepare alone was the only place we had heard of seeing such aquatic mammals, and during our stay we were fortunate enough to spot them twice. Both times we were snorkeling when we spotted them slowly cruising along the bottom, keeping their eyes out for the eel grass on which they feed. There was a larger one, maybe 8’ long, and what we could only assume was it’s sub-adult calf, around 6’ in length. The second time we spotted them, I was distanced a bit from Denee, Dirk, and Aimee, and had the opportunity to get quite close (within 4’) of them while they swam past us. Those few seconds (that seemed like ages) of swimming alongside the two of them were super-spiffy, and it’ll probably be another lifetime or few until I get a chance like that again. After spending our 5 nights there at Tetepare, we left one afternoon and skirted the southern shore of the island, working our way to the southern tip. From there we crossed Blanche Channel, the body of water that separates Tetepare from Marovo lagoon, and made our way towards Connie’s place in the village of Chea. After stopping once for directions, our boat finally made it to Chea and deposited us on the coral wharf. As we were coming to tie up, we came upon a dugout canoe with two girls in it – and one of them was White Connie! There are, in fact, only two white folks that live in the village, and although she is only a part-time patron of the village, Connie is known by all. Years ago she started coming here, mingling with the locals, and forming relationships that eventually caused her to find herself building a home here in this island/jungle paradise. When she built her place (which is situated above the village, on a hill), the agreement of sorts was that when she isn’t there, the locals could use the house as a children’s school, and in return the family that lives there would do minor cooking and cleaning for the month or two when she visits. Pretty sweet deal for the locals if you ask me! As part of a way to say thank you, and to support the locals at the village, Aimee and I bought this awesome carving that Loister (the mother of the family that stays there) had obtained through what amounts to barter. See, when a local needs some cash in a pinch, they often will barter whatever they have, and in the case of carvers (which there are many), non-complete carvings are often given away at bargin prices to those that have cash. So Loister, being a smart woman, has an assortment of carvings she’s obtained over the years, and one of them caught our eye so much that we had to bring it home. We felt that if we were going to buy a carving, it should be from someone we know and appreciate, and not just from any ol’ carver at the market. This piece is a turtle/shark combo that’s about two feet across, and perhaps 18” tall, and will eventually find itself hanging over our bed in Seattle. When we came here, we were told that you should never be guilted into buying something, or to buy a carving without really wanting it – and with the exception of a little mask and some small nut carvings (all quite inexpensive), we held true to that bit of advice. But enough of carvings! Like I said, Connie’s house is situated on a hill that overlooks the lagoon, the football field, and the fringe reef that protects the lagoon from the raging seas on the outside. On our first day in Chea, Connie took us out to the “Tumba” or outer islands, where the lagoon and ocean meet. Our purpose was to go snorkeling, and although the weather was picking up, we felt we couldn’t pass up the chance to have a local guide show us here favorite swim spot. So we piled into a dugout canoe maybe only 2-feet wide, 20-feet long, and had a 15hp Yamaha outboard strapped to the back, and blasted our way precariously out to “The Wall.” Once we finally got out, Denee, Connie, and Aimee took off like torpedos and left Dirk and I completely in the dust to wonder where our significant others had gone. After a slightly-frantic trip down the length of “The Wall” searching for our sweeties, we finally caught up to the Olympic-grade swim-trio and spent a few minutes actually enjoying the various caverns and valleys that littered the this beautiful coast. That afternoon we returned to Chea, fully exhausted, and were welcomed by a glorious meal that Loister had prepared for us. Now, there are some things in the world that most people can recognize and revere, like a comfortable bed or a good massage, and I think that Solomon Island Sweet Potatos should be officially added to the ranks of unforsakable foods. Along with Fijian Kasava chips and the Popo (mango) soup that you mix with rice, I cannot imagine better island food. Eggplant I could never taste again, and I would have not regrets – but the above mentioned items are what makes life here wonderful. Also we have been so lucky as to sample a variety of reef and peplagic fish, crayfish (spiny lobster), and pork. The piggy wasn’t the best ever, but one can never complain about variety in a place that lacks refrigeration (outside of the big cities). Anywho, about two days later my dad showed up to Chea, and after an hour or two “talking story” with the locals, we all piled into the boat from Solomon Dive Adventures, and made our way south. In the hours before leaving Chea we were witness to the strongest wind and rain we had yet to experience, and none of us were too excited about the 1.5hour ride down to the dive lodge. I wore only my swim shorts, while others clambered around in rain jackets and tarps, doing what they could to keep dry. The odd thing was that the water we were floating on was in the mid-80’s, but yet we were freezing our asses off from the wind chill. Once we stopped (just under two hours later, and in complete darkness) I was able to plunge my feet into the warm water again, and the cold went away instantly. While we were unloading during a break in the weather, we met Lisa, the owner/operator of Solomon Dive Adventures, and got a tour of the facilities. They had showers and toilets (basic), a nice covered dining area, comfortable private rooms for both couples, and Lisa had made a bed up for my dad in her house. After a dinner of fried fishes, fruit, rice, potatoes, and everything else wonderful, we had a dive-briefing of sorts and made our plans for the next day. We’d start off on an easy refresher-dive at a spot called “Treasure,” then if everyone was comfortable, we’d do our post-lunch dive out at one of the islands off beach. It was so, and it was there that we got our first taste of truly epic diving – world class by no doubt. Fan corals with radi of 8’ (16’-span!), hundreds of reef fish, and nudibranchs plentiful enough to keep Dirk’s interests perked for the entire week! I had just taken my new underwater housing down on a test dive earlier that morning, and I was able to start clicking away at everything and anything underwater, and I love it! Like any true gear junkie, however, I was crying for bigger external strobes within a dive or two, but regardless I was able to take what I thought were some killer photos. 5-dives later (including one chaotic night dive) I was finally able to put the camera down on occasion and actually SEE what was around me, and take in all of the cumulative beauty underwater. On one dive in particular, we were able to HEAR the beauty, in that an active underwater volcano approximately 18-miles away caused tremors loud enough to rattle your entire body while on the dive – and it really made me aware of my surroundings, as I was under a big overhang when the sound of impending death zipped through the water. Of course, pissing yourself underwater goes quite unnoticed, so no real harm was done to my ego. Once Christmas came (on a Saturday, the Sabbath for Seventh Day Adventists, the biggest religion here) everything was shut-down, so we all decided to begin a 10-day anti-wellness fast, where we all got sick for a minimum of 7 days out of a 10-day period. I was the first, followed by Aimee, Dirk, Denee, and Connie. Each of us had our own unique way of being sick, but in general it included: two days of burning fever, multiple days of weakness, a day or few of coughing, and lack of appetite. Missing a meal at SDA was a bummer, because their food was plentiful, nourishing, and we even had a goodie-box packed with cookies, candies, and drinks that we could get into anytime we desired. But after Christmas we left SDA and headed to Cherapoana Island, where the food was substantially less is quantity and variety, and missing a meal wasn’t really an unfortunate thing. Half of us were too weak or congested to dive, so most of our time was spent either reading, journaling, drinking hot beverages, or a combination of the three. But after 5 days and 4 nights of that, we were all back to health and our time was up. So we headed back to Chea with Connie and my Dad, where we returned to the comfort of fire-ant-free bedding (we were eaten by these evil critters, especially Denee and Dirk, at Cherapoana) and Loister’s simple, yet nourishing cooking. The next day was spent relaxing and preparing for our long journey home, doing a bit of kite flying (the local kids just swarmed when we ran up the camera), and thinking about food that would await us back home. On that note, let me say that food was by far our biggest obsession while on this trip, period. While at Cherapoana I dedicated an entire page of my notebook to the various culinary delights that I craved, and I’m still working at fulfilling said list’s highlights. Corn dogs, cheesecake, burgers, Thai, Mexican, Italian – the list easily covers over 50 different items of my desire. Anywho, the next morning we said our good-byes, loaded the fiberglass launch/panga/banana-boat and headed to Seghe for our flight to Honiara. With only a 15hp Yamaha outboard pushing the 8 of us (Roy, Loister, Connie, Dad, and the 4 of us) and our luggage, it was a bit of a late-morning bake, as the sun was out in full, blue-sky force. Once we arrived at the airport dock (funny, right?) we proceeded to the “terminal” (a 25’ x 15’ shack) and attempted to check in. The problem, however, was that we had booked our tickets online, and very few of the places with internet also have printers – so no physical tickets for us. This problem was realized when the clerk/baggage handler/manager/runway staff told us that we needed physical tickets, and that they had no computer system in Seghe. Umm….ok? Fortunatly for us, they were able to contact somebody via cell phone (oddly, cell phones are rather common in the middle of nowhere) when the radio didn’t work, and they got our seats confirmed. Yea! So that ordeal snuffed out, we went through security (wait – no we didn’t! there is no security for the small planes here), laid our bags on the grass and coral runway, and we waited. One warm orange soda later the Dash-8 landed and began to disembark a group of pasty whiteys – something we could say after being thoroughly bronzed and sun-bleached for the past two months. : ) But seriously, there are some pretty freaking corpsey-lookin’ folks that come off those planes – even by PNW standards! Anywho, as the plane was coming to a halt, a previously-observed crazy person began his routine of throwing trash around, yelling, and moving in quick, jerky movements. This fellow then began sizing up the disembarking passengers like a mother hen as they claimed their baggage, still moving in erratic, jerky movements. It was about then that we noticed the writing on the back of his shirt, which stated in bold letters “OFFICIAL” or some other equally authoritative title, obviously not meant for him. But those tired passengers didn’t know any better, and it made me laugh. Minutes later we said our good-byes, loaded onto the plane, and took off over the serene tropical islands. Leaving this place is a bitter-sweet: I craved food and homelife, but knew that I was leaving behind one of the most exotic, wonderful, and beautiful places in the world (with not known date of return). It was a feeling like getting married, I suppose, in that you think it could be the last time you ever do it, but there is a slight possibility that you may have a second chance. Or third, fourth, or fifth. I don’t mean to knock marriage, it was just the first thing that popped into my mind when searching for something you do with little chance of repeating again. I suppose getting crabs or shooting someone in self defense could be other examples, but we’ll just leave it at that. Getting back to our travels, the four of us got off the plane in Honiara and within 30 seconds of entering the airport I spotted the cabbie that picked us up when we flew in from Fiji, and he gave us a ride back to our hotel. The first time we came in, he drove us all around town trying to find a place that had two rooms, and after an hour or so of failed attempts at cheap lodging, we ended up at the Quality Inn (from Hell). The Chester house, where we stayed after the Quality Inn, had two rooms reserved for us, beds made, and Holy Crosses removed for us heathens (seriously, the room had a removable cross on the door, and ours had been removed, just like the last time, in different rooms). Weird. That night we treated ourselves to what we thought would be sushi, but actually turned out to be a Japanese restaurant that was out of sushi – but we ate their anyway, as we had some remaining Solomon dollars that we needed to spend. Speaking of Solomon dollars, we got (at best) $7.5SBD for every $1USD, but when we sold them back at the Westpac bank (we later found out that they were the worst exchange rate in town – who knew) we got $1USD for every $10SBD. As it turned out, the remaining cash we were left with was spent (every last dollar, except for some change I forgot to get rid of) on trinkets at the airport: a book on warfare by Tom Clancy, some coconut soap bars, and some jewelry for Mom’s birthday. Later that afternoon we were in Nadi, Fiji, drinking our first decent beers in over a month, and checking emails via wifi. We were one flight away from our home lives, school, work, my boat and truck, and food – limitless food. After loading up around 11pm local time, we taxied and leveled off at 42,000ft, and did our best to get some shut-eye. And by that, I mean we watched movies until 2am. : ) When we woke, it was about 9am Pacific Coast Time, and soon the California coast came into view – one more flight and we’d be home. Oddly enough, even though there are millions of flights per year, I still feel that making it to your destination without a fatal component failure due to laziness of some airline minion is a miracle. I don’t mean to demean airport maintenance folks, but I’m pretty sure they don’t pay those guys enough to REALLY give a damn, like say a Professional Engineer might (these “Professional” engineers, architects, etc have to go through ridiculous testing for YEARS before they can put their stamp of approval on something, and once they do, they become HUGELY liable for any failures, etc). Anywho, with relief we landed safely, but with frustration we were delayed by understaffed and over-worked customs agents, and therefore missed our flight to Seattle – by no close margin. Thankfully we made it on standby status on a flight that had us in standings 11 and 12 – a real miracle in my book! Three hours later we were picked up by my Uncle Jim at SeaTac and taken home. Our home.
The End.
Epilogue: January 15th, 2011.
The diving was epic – out-of-this-world-AMAZING. Turtles were sweet, Dugongs awesome, water temperature: 85-degrees Fahrenheit. Food: basic, but nourishing. Beer: total crap (in the Solomons – Fiji Bitter all the way!). People: poor but friendly (more friendly in Fiji. Economy: Sad in Solomons, think developing nation. But in the end, we are back in Seattle with less than 8 hours of usable daylight, sub-freezing temperatures, and back to wearing long-undies and gloves on a regular basis. I bought my first French press coffee brewer (it’s a mini – 12oz) last week, ate a lot of unhealthy but thouroughly satisfying junk food, worked on my 4Runner, organized my tools and storage unit, and Aimee began school at Seattle Central Community College, where she’s taking Painting, English, and Math classes. I bought a new bottle of Johnnie Walker Green Label Scotch, a new Hookah (twin-hose with a wide and heavy base), and ended my moorage contract at my marina on Westlake Avenue. Concerning that last item, I’ve decided to give up my moorage on Westlake because they informed me that they had made a mistake in my contract, and that I was paying about 40% less than I should have for the past year, and that my rate would be corrected for 2011. On top of that, I didn’t really want to renew a year-long contract when half of that year would be spent at Delta Marine Shipyard hauled out while I replace rigging, put in a new engine, build a pilothouse, and rebuild the interior of my sailboat. I’m a bit sad about it, as it was quite affordable and I have great neighbors, but cash is king, and I’ve got to save it. So I’ll be hauling the boat out in late January (my contract ends on the 31st) and continue working on it in a covered environment until early summer. Eventually I’ll re-launch and begin living aboard, and Aimee will be able to call “our apartment” “my apartment” once again. I’ll eventually be looking for work, as I won’t be returning to the summertime Alaska work with American Safari Cruises – so if anyone sees a job posting that I might be interested in, or know of work that is available for a person such as myself, feel free to contact me by leaving a comment below, or calling/emailing me! : ) I’m currently entertaining a position at a local boat building company, guiding whitewater rafting trips, caretaking an island in Connecticut, photography jobs including teaching, driving boats in the Seattle area, and anything else that allows me to stay in Seattle, pay the rent, and keep me off the crack. Ok, the crack part is an exaggeration – I’m pretty sure I can’t afford a habit like that anyway. : ) Currently I’m at 30,000ft, southbound for Santa Barbara, California, to visit my Mom for her 50th birthday – yay! I’ll be here for 4 days, then back to Seattle until late February when I fly down to south of Puerta Vallarta, Mexico, to spend two weeks with my friend Christian on his sailboat. Other than that, I don’t have any travel plans scheduled, and I’ll be doing the 7am-5pm shift, working on Rafiki until I start working at said unknown job in the early summer/late spring (when the boat is back in the water, and I have time for work). Anywho, I must go, as the process of editing, uploading, pounding the keyboard, re-editing and re-uploading has driven me a bit to my wit's end - so Kana Tabua!
