It was the day before Christmas. Jeremy, a solo sailor on a 53-foot boat from Leicester, England, invited a select number of people to his, apparently, annual Christmas breakfast. Males only. With a, I don’t know about this vegetarian thing you’re on, I haven’t shopped for it, so there won’t be much for you to eat, but if you’re up for a laugh and a giggle, come by at around eight-thirty.
Eight thirty came and went, but the rain was relentless and didn’t slow down until eight-fifty. I made my way to Jeremy’s boat on the far side of the marina. While crossing the outhaul area, I came across Maria, a Canadian from Nova Scotia, married to Marco, a South African from Durban. Marco had left South Africa seventeen years ago and hadn’t been back until now, and just like us, they are also waiting for a weather opportunity to go further south. “On your way to the sausage party then, she said.” More of a statement than a question.
Although no longer a downpour, the rain was still steadily coming down when I stepped onto Jeremy’s boat, and consequently, nobody outside, except for Roger, a single-handed sailor, on an Alberg 30, a classic cruising boat from the seventies, smoking a cigarette under the well-appointed bimini, a canvas top for the cockpit.
Down the steps, three people are around the table, and two are in luxury fauteuils. This is one fancy boat, an Oyster built in England. A small table between the fauteuils is home to the booze, whisky, rum, Baileys, you name it. A big dish full of cooked bacon and sausages is in the center of the big table. Perry, a Chinese guy, also a single-handed sailor, much younger than any of us, hardly speaks any English but pretends he does, eats a fried egg on toast, and helps himself to the bacon and sausages.
Jeremy puts a plate with toast on the table and asks, “Anybody up for a fried egg ”? He is the ultimate host, with a steady stream of coffee, tea, beer, and eggs coming from his galley. I also notice the small jars with candy on the table and some small chocolate bars beside them. Introducing John from Washington DC, sailing with his wife around the world, an expert on anything marijuana-related. THC Cannabis gummies are a big and legal seller in South Africa, and John knows all about them, knows where to buy them, knows how to make them, and in addition, has a seizable supply of them on hand. And a small portion of that is on the table.
Within minutes I have a mug of coffee and a glass of Scotch in front of me. Is this the sailor’s life? No, not at all, but today it is.
There are eight of us. Four are solo sailors, all going around the world, all single, all divorced.
John lives on his boat with his wife, who is spending Christmas with her mother in Lithuania. His boat is on the hard, meaning out of the water, getting some repairs done. They are relatively new to the sailing world, but went in all the way, sold their house, gave away their belongings, flew to the Seychelles, and bought their boat to begin their voyage. They have no plans.
There is Gary, a fellow Canadian who left Canada with his wife Annie thirteen years ago on a three-year-long circumnavigation. Do the math, it doesn’t quite work. There are quite a few cruisers with that mindset. When they get to a marina and like it, they might stay a couple of months. These two actually stayed for three years in Fiji. Loved it.
Marco, Maria’s husband, is also present, sticking to beer and enjoying breakfast. He is going to reacquaint himself with his family in Durban after a seventeen-year absence. Time to introduce his wife of ten years.
We, on Code Blue, were the last ones to arrive in Richards Bay. That was on the seventeenth, and we can’t wait for that next weather window to arrive. Jeremy and Roger have been here for almost three weeks and would kill for a passage out, but Annie and Gary couldn’t care less. When it comes, they go, but if it takes another three weeks, that’s good too.
Perry decided to try the candy. Each square of a chocolate bar has infused into it five milligrams of THC. Some of the gummies the same, and some, from a different package, have an infusion of something like forty milligrams. A warning on the package says that novice users should not start with more than five milligrams. Perry ignored the warning. John tried to stop him, but too late. About ten minutes later, Perry turned green, literally. He ran upstairs, woofed his cookies, came back down, found a place to sleep, last we saw of him that day.
Meanwhile, John and Roger were popping gummies without any noticeable ill effects. I stuck with the coffee and Scotch.
Many of these circumnavigators run into each other on occasion. And although not written in stone, because of prevailing winds, hurricane seasons, and some other factors, chances are you’re on very similar routings. Jeremy and Roger met in Tanzania, and also Marco and Maria. Gary knew John from the Seychelles. And had we not been so late in the season, I’m sure we would have run into some sailors off and on coming from Australia.
I bid my farewells by eleven and saw the lot, but not Perry, all in good shape, at two at the potluck lunch. Perry, by then, had woken up and had made his way back to his boat.
A memorable Christmas day.
