I’ve given myself the week what unfolds in Darwin towards Timor. Three basic options remain:
- Someone makes contact from my yacht club posters, with a sailing plan to Timor
- We find a boat to buy that’s sea-worthy enough to make the trip
- Maintenance on Allan’s boat gets quickly enough to an adequate enough state to make the trip
Allan has been pretty clear that I shouldn’t rely on him, as he can’t guarantee timing. But… I suspect it is fair to say we’re both growing in enthusiasm for the idea of his yacht and my bike accompanying the two of us to Timor. Allan still makes no promises, and I should have no expectations, but I think its fair to say there’s much interest. And that makes it tricky not to have a growing expectation!
Allan has bought a new life jacket, is buying a new dingy, and has even bought the “courtesy flag” for Timor which I’ve learned is a legal requirement when a vessel from one jurisdiction is a guest in another geography. None of these purchases woudl be necessary without Allan taking a stray and his motorbike to the next stop en route to London. But still – no promises!
I’ll check with Allan as the week draws to a close, but I suspect we’re both shifting gears to “get S.V. Huey ‘splashed’ and pointed to Timor asap!” Other options may present in the meantime, but actually I’m developing an inkling to turn other options down in favour of travelling on a yacht, moreover on a yacht with which I’ve played a small part in the dry-dock maintenance. It’ll make for great memories and good stories.
To that end we’re in a waiting pattern for a range of goods and services. We’re waiting for $7k of “dyneema” rope delivery to splice stays for the mast. There’s a fitter and turner working a new roller furling system to simplify stowing the mail sail. There’s a new motor in transit for the “water maker” that derives drinking water from seawater. We’ve now got a marine mechanic booked to service the auto helm, so that in the right weather we can relax while the yacht sail itself. (Sort of.) Then we’ll need to book a crane for mast re-installation. Followed later on by a second – larger – crane to haul all 18 tonnes of yacht off the dry dock and back into the water.
I can’t figure out why Allan thinks I’m overly optimistic to hope we’ll be on the water before Christmas? Any thoughts?
There are no immediate or concrete impacts from a longer stay in Darwin, but I do have itchy feet as it compromises the overall practicality of getting to London in a workable time. But I can’t see any reliably faster way to make it happen, so I might as well enjoy the waiting. Hmmm – do I need to introduce myself again? Waiting. Bah! My waiting muscle has well and truly atrophied. Waiting is not one of my top 1,000 competencies.
With all this waiting for others, we’re really just pottering around in the meantime. It isn’t hard to see where the phrase “messing around in boats” comes from. Nor is it hard to see why Allan scheduled a full six months for maintenance.
Regardless, it is all really rather pleasant and peaceful. Even as I write now on Huey’s deck in the middle of the dry dock, there’s a peaceful atmosphere and beautiful sunset:
Not to overstate, and in a bit of contrast to the peace of this moment’s scene, it was something of a culture education to take the bus today to buy a new VHF aerial for the top of the mast. Just one more reminder that living in a city of 5 million people is only one life experience among many. I’ve touched a veritable tapestry of different expressions of humanity, of community, even before I’ve left the borders of this vast but sparsely-populated land.
I’ve also been walking, weather and distance permitting. Dinah’s Beach is only a bit over 1km from the CBD, so I walked last night to get some groceries as the sun was setting.
I ended up in a half hour chat with a shirtless shipping chef. He’s offered his own two bobs’ worth on my best transit options, although I think we’re still in the same circle of others’ repeating ideas. The iPhone’s night shot mode belies the post-sunset timing, picking up the park’s peaceful beauty with an eerie boldness:
Juxtaposed against this peaceful beauty, there’s a looming darkness on my horizon now just four days away. There’s a court booking for our divorce this coming Monday, 8 days prior to our 25th anniversary. Even now with all the planning, work, and anticipation of this adventure, I’d fly home and leave the trip behind on a dime if there was any opportunity to cancel the court case and reconcile. I can’t currently see how even 25,000km of bikes and tents will shake off the 25 years of marriage. I can’t see how anything will, actually. And with a growing commitment that marriage really is “until death do us part”, its a pretty bleak path forward whatever happens from here, without reconciliation. Our marriage falling apart is my biggest life failure and grief, for which accountability fundamentally sits with me. My wife and my kids all know that I remain theirs no matter what. And that I will come running if ever there is a welcome for me in their world.
I’ve met so, so so many blokes recently who have been broken over relational issues. Our culture just does not know how to support a fella through these challenges. The stories they’ve poured out when I share why I’m on this ride. Oh the stories! Yes of course I’m hearing only one side, and there will (almost) always be at least one other. But oh our law and courts and systems crush the men. Strip them. Spit them out. And we wonder why our culture is falling apart. It has got to change.
All I can do is take one day at a time. I’m determined to find a positive posture into my next chapter. I suspect that will take all the stubbornness I can muster, and quite a bit of time. There’s that “waiting” nugget again. I might have to update my core competencies.
1 Comment
I was a pleasure to meet with you last Sunday, sorry I had to rush off.
From what I have read so far is awesome, live the idea and concept.
Hope all goes well and mission will be accomplished.
Cheers Trevor C3 Darwin