Beware of Nay-sayers!

 

When we first moved aboard Nine of Cups, we listened carefully and attentively to everyone because we assumed they had much more experience and were therefore, much smarter than we were. Some were, some were not. We found that lots of folks told us what we should do and many more spouted off about what we shouldn't do. Advice, as always, is cheap and many times unsolicited.

"DON'T go to Maine!" they told us in Texas. "Too much fog, no place to moor or anchor, too crowded, too many lobster traps...blah, blah,blah". Oh, had they been sailing in Maine? Hmm...not exactly... but they heard it from other cruisers. Aha! and therein lies the rub. Hearsay may be helpful or harmful, but first hand experience is the key. Even then, one person's nightmare is another's adventure. Yes, there were plenty of lobster traps in Maine and yes, there was a lot of fog. It was also incredibly beautiful and a fun, learning adventure. We found secluded anchorages in some areas and there was always a mooring to pick up, sometimes for free. It was definitely not as advertised by the nay-sayers.

Of course, right from the git-go, people were a bit negative about our hare-brained scheme to sell up and sail off. “Are you crazy? 24X7 with your spouse? Plus, it's scary out there. Big storms, big waves, pirates.” We managed to sell up, buy a boat, move aboard and sail off despite advice to the contrary.

Through the years, we've received lots of negative admonitions … usually from folks who had little to no experience about the place we wanted to visit. “Don't go to Cartagena, Colombia!” “Don't go to Ecuador.” “For heaven's sake, don't sail down to Chile … or sail down to Tierra del Fuego … or go to South Africa … or circumnavigate New Zealand … or … “. Ah, well, 14 years later, some are still skeptical and we say “each to his own”. We choose our own path.

For sure, we listen and try to learn from others, but we've learned to be cautious, even wary, of the source. We offer the following thoughts on naysayers. Consider your own needs, likes, dislikes. Be prudent, do some research and decide for yourself what's reasonable and what's not. Don't be a dock potato...leave the marina and see some of the world from a new perspective! And for those of you who aren't sailors … this advice applies across the board. Remember, life's an adventure. Don't sit safely in your rocking chair and knit mittens worrying about every little thing. Get out there and take a hike, take a trip. It doesn't have to be far. Take time to discover what's in your own backyard and don't let those naysayers tell you any different. (Hmm...was that unsolicited advice? Probably was. Take it for what it's worth!)

It's Hard to Know Where We Live Anymore

 

When we moved aboard Nine of Cups I told David that I'd be “at home” on Cups when I could maneuver through the boat at night and not need to put the lights on … when I was so familiar with the location of the steps up and down, the location of the handholds and the feel of the sole under my feet that I could feel my way comfortably around the boat in the dark. It didn't take as long as I thought for Cups to become home. Now that we've been away for so long and had various “homes” in the States, it's really hard to know where home is any more.

Even though we travel from port to port and haven't put down roots anywhere in the last 14 years, we always knew where home was … on Nine of Cups. Whenever we left, we knew she would be waiting for us. It was never more than a few months at most though … a trip home or some extended inland travel. She was always a welcome sight when we returned.

Looking back over the past year, it seems almost a bad dream that she's still in Adelaide and waiting, probably impatiently, for the return of her errant crew. I've been in the States since last February and David followed last April. Since that time, we've been transients ... living out of suitcases, sleeping in other people's houses and beds, sharing house chores and putting our sailing life on hold. It's hard to know where we live any more. We lived in Bea's tiny apartment caring for her for awhile. We've taken over a room at my sister's since August. In between, we lived for a week or two in Vegas visiting David's mom and another week or two in Denver saying goodbye to Casey and then recently to spend time with our family there. We were in a different hotel room every night. Cups was always in the back of our minds, but she seemed so very far away. It was better not to think of her until we had a plan to return.

It certainly wasn't our plan to be gone for so long. It was definitely not intentional. Things happened which required us to show up, stay and be responsible. Through it all, though, we knew Cups was waiting for us and we yearned to be back with her and resume our life.

Nearly a year has passed and so much has happened that at times, it has seemed almost overwhelming. Now, however, things are back to as close to normal as we can expect and it's time to go home. David is beginning to order boat parts and think about what to pack for his return trip in a couple of weeks. We've talked about the impact of this lost year. We'll have to learn to live on the boat all over again. Cups will need some heavy duty TLC and a lot of work before she's ready to head to sea again. We'll have to toughen up after our easy land life. With our memories, we'll have to learn to sail all over. Trite as it may sound, home is where the heart is and we're heading there soon.

Jelly, the Ship's Cat - Alive and Well and Living in Massachusetts

 

If you've been following us for a while, you'll know that we once had a ship's cat aboard … Jelly. Actually, Magellan Louise Lemay Lynn is her full name, but that was much too long for a gray-nosed kitten, so we simply called her Jelly. We adopted her the day she was “street legal” from the local SPCA in Clear Lake, Texas when we first moved aboard Nine of Cups. She lived aboard with us until 2007.

People ask frequently if having pets aboard is a problem. The answer: Yes and no. Cats are easier than dogs, I think. They don't need to be walked and they're usually litter-box trained, so you don't have to teach them to poop on a faux-grass mat on the foredeck. We had friends who toilet-trained their two cats, but we never attempted it. It was sometimes a challenge finding litter, so we stockpiled it when we could find it. Stowing the litter stockpile was always an issue. Food was pretty easy … canned tuna was cheaper than commercial cat food. Jelly never developed a taste for fresh fish, so we never had to share our sushi. See our previous blog post on Pets Aboard for more specific information.

Leaving the boat for more than a day or two was always difficult since we had to find a cat sitter. It was not always feasible to find a fellow cruiser who could help which meant it was necessary to find a trustworthy local. Since we love inland travel, this always posed a problem. We know some friends who took separate vacations so that one of them could always stay aboard with their kitty. We love Jelly, but apparently not quite that much.

Checking into foreign countries with a pet is a definite issue. We had to make sure Jelly was always up to date on health checks and vaccinations, which meant taking her to vets who sometimes didn't really see the value in having a cat as a pet. We had to declare Jelly with health officials each time we entered a new country and there was usually a fee involved … whether they checked her out or not. Some countries required advance notice of a pet on board. The added expense to our cruising budget was significant. Our intention to visit New Zealand and Australia was a deciding point in leaving her with my mom since chipping and a long quarantine were involved.

The positives about having Jelly aboard? She was wonderful ... a fun cat, a good companion and an amusing crew mate. She was a member of the family and slept with us in our bunk. She kept birds off the deck … unless they were too big, in which case she ignored them. She could smell land long before we could see it and would pace back and forth in the cockpit like a big cat signaling we were about to make landfall. She could hear our dinghy approaching and would wait impatiently at the ladder for us to board so she could greet us. We've got a hundred Jelly stories. Leaving her with my mom was a hard decision, but in retrospect, the right decision.

Lots of folks who met Jelly have asked about her since then. For a 13-year-old kitty, she's doing very well. She's still sassy, but very sedentary and definitely less playful and energetic than in years past.

Swallowing the anchor was an easy transition for her. She moved in with my mom and the two of them became good friends. Mom fed her and emptied her litter box. Jelly sat on mom's lap in the evenings and snoozed. She slept at the foot of mom's bed every night. When Mom moved recently, Jelly came to live with Lin. Since we, too, have been living with Lin, we've had the chance to renew our relationship and it's been sweet. When we leave to go back to Australia, she'll be in good hands.

Jelly's got her own page on the website … check it out.