Overwhelm

We are T-26 (T = moving aboard day).  Now that I am officially unemployed, I have been throwing myself into Getting Rid of Stuff.  I've been packing non-essentials like pictures and photo albums, sorting out/donating clothes and selling stuff on Facey or filling boxes for the charity shop.  I have to say, I'm pretty rubbish at it.  I find myself walking in small circles sometimes, from kitchen to laundry to bedroom, picking things up, putting things down and getting distracted.  Facebook is the worst! Don't ever try selling stuff on there! It's so easy to get led down a little Facebook lane where you amble along, enjoying the Facey sights, reading everyone's comments, looking at all the pretty flowers in the hedgerow etc etc.  And before you know it, when you pop your head up out of the bubble, you find 45 minutes have passed and you have achieved NOTHING! In fact I nearly made an offer on a ping pong table yesterday.  We're moving onto a boat.  And I was tempted by a ping pong table.

Henry the Ford

The hardest thing to sell has been Matt's beloved tinny and 1966 Ford Falcon.  He's had the car for 28 years! and the tinny nearly as long.  They've both had a lot of love - mainly in the pre-kids days - but have been languishing for a while now.  Matt actually used the Ford as his main car until Tilly was born 9 years ago  No seatbelts in the back meant the start of Henry's retirement.  It's still a huge wrench for Matt, and not a decision I've ever wanted to be part of.  It had to be completely his choice.  Making fun adventures happen can cause sad things to happen along the way.

Thinking inside the box

We've also started two weeks of holidays in Aus, so the kids are home.  I had these delightful thoughts of us all working together to pack up the house.  Laughing and chatting and wiping away the odd tear from happy memories, as we sorted through our possessions to decide what to keep and what to "pass on with love".  Instead the kids are making the most of the holidays and my inattention by running totally wild; creating "dyes" in the treehouse from blueberries and glitter glue, playing "mustangs and mountain lions" (I blame Netflix), racing around the house and through every room.  I find myself miserably wading through piles of dressups, sketchbooks and strange glittery puddles to get from one room to the other.  Getting them to brush their teeth seems like an achievement, and them helping to unpack the dishwasher is a major undertaking.  The civilising reins of school have barely been loosened and they're kicking over the traces already.  I can hear the shrieks from the bottom of the garden from here.

The dog is a saint

... er ... yum?

To add to the challenges of the kids on holidays, the siren call of social media and really not enough time to half the things we need to do in order to rent the house out: we also have the internet playing up and one of the cars now needs a lot of work and money (didn't know that).

Plenty to get on with then.  I might just have a little peek on Facebook before I get back into it.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times ...

This has been a week of contrasts.  It's the end of Term 2 in Australia, and the start of the 2-week winter hols.  This was the last week of school for Tilly and Sasha and the last week of me working at their school.  This school is a very special place.  It looks like a normal Aussie Catholic school from the outside but is actually a subversive underground club for lots of lovely people and families.  And you're not allowed to be a teacher here unless you have superpowers, including a heart twice the size of a usual human heart and a passion for guiding and shaping young people to be the very best version of themselves possible.  So although we are very VERY excited to be a step closer to dropping the lines and heading out into the wild blue yonder, we are very VERY sad to be leaving this part of our lives behind, at least for now.

Heart-filling stuff

The staff at the campus where I work organised a fabulous morning tea, to say happy birthday to one member of staff and goodbye to me.  Everyone brought a plate and there was so much yummy food and cake.  I was given flowers, cards, a million hugs AND some very nifty drinks holders for the boat! There were speeches.  Very beautiful and touching.  I may or may not have cried, quite a bit.  Other people may or may not have cried too. 

There were some wonderful cards from the students too, and as the week went on, and as I said my goodbyes to each of the borrowing classes that came through the library, I got more hugs, some hip-hip-hoorays and wonderful bon mots from the students.  “Make sure you don’t sink Mrs Stewart”! (do my best!), “you’re the best librarian ever” (thank you), “are Tilly and Sasha going with you?” (hope so!), “I’m going to miss you” (going to miss you too) and the most-heard “will you come back to us?” (I very much hope so).  One class hug was so enthusiastic, my toes scrabbled to keep hold of the ground.  I’m going to miss every single little person that I’ve got to know over the last few years, every little parcel of fun and fears and quirks and worries and hope.  My heart is very full.

This Grade 6 student blew me away.  What a very special lovely person.

I’ve been worried that Tilly and Sasha would struggle to say goodbye to their friends and teachers at the school, but, although sad, they’ve been quite relaxed about it.  I’ve come to the conclusion that this is because they don’t know. They think this is quite normal, that this is how all schools and communities are.  They haven’t been around the block a few times, like I have, I know what a jewel this place is.

A beautiful journal, beautifully inscribed.

What an awesome boat gift!

When we finally left, laden with school books and bags and gifts and hats and precious dinosaur pictures, the light was fading and there was a distinct chill in the air.  I cried again walking to the car across the oval, away from everyone.  I know that we so lucky to be doing this, taking a chance, one long holiday to spend together as a family, living in nature and exploring the islands and beaches and coastline of Australia.  We are so lucky, and we’ve also worked hard and saved hard to be able to make it happen.  And I know there will be challenges and hard parts along the way.  I just thought the hard parts would be on the boat!

So now it’s the first morning of freedom.  Freedom from school and work.  Also freedom from earning an income and someone else being responsible for our kids’s education.  Scary, much?! But I know that we’re one step closer.  Now we have some real work to do, move aboard, get rid of a house full of stuff by giving it away or selling it or storing it, then finding someone to rent the house.  We’re facing forward, chins up, ready for the hard work and the adventuring to begin. 

Past lives ... working on boats

We've had some people asking about our past, before kids, when we used to work on boats.  We met working on an awesome 50m private yacht with a crew of 12.

This is a beautiful boat that just goes round and round and round the world, slowly, and the owners or their friends fly out and join the boat for a week or two.  Matt was on board for 2 years and completed a circumnavigation.  We met when I joined in Palma, Mallorca and we left the boat a year later in Seattle.  It was an absolute blast! We worked hard and played harder.

Some of the lovely crew - in front of a glacier in Alaska. Brrrr!

Anti-pirate shotgun training from ex-Naval Seals for the Straits of Mellacca passage.  It was nerve-wracking.

Matt in his loathed "whites" at Portofino

Refuelling in Malta.

We left this boat reluctantly, mainly because red-flagged vessels like this one (ie UK registered) don't recognise Aussie maritime qualifications, and vice-versa.  So, so annoying.  (10 years on, nothing has changed.)

We joined a smaller boat with Matt as Captain and me stewardessing and another English guy as deckie.  It was a total rocket machine, Italian designed and built, and turned heads everywhere in the Med that season.

Transiting the Corinthian Canal,

On the bridge.

A spot of sewing on the aft deck.

Before I joined the 50m where we met, I'd worked on a couple of 50 foot sailing yachts on the Med/Caribbean circuit.  The first one was a lovely Chuck Paine design that I single handed in the Caribbean for a season for the private owner, who'd fly out occasionally for a week or two.  The other was a wonderful older Swan 51 that was run as commercial vessel, going round the Med regattas and taking paying passengers on for weeks at a time; racing or transitting.  I did several Atlantic crossings, one back from the West Indies back to the UK that I skippered and used the passage to take my Yachtmaster Ocean.  I loved both the boats and have very fond memories of those years.  Sadly I don't have any pics of the Swan, no camera (actually it was lost during a riotous night in La Gomera, the Canaries, and was never replaced) and pre-iPhones!

Such a beautiful boat.

My brother came out to visit and we had a great time in the BVIs.  I'm the one with skin like an old handbag!

We both loved working on the boats but were very ready to settle down back in 2007, and bought a few acres in the Whitsundays to build our dream home.

The weekend of many "firsts"

We took the boat out for the first time at the weekend.  Matt had the weekend off (rare) but the weather forecast was NOT looking good! We had gales in the week leading up and we were a leetle bit nervous about our plans.  Putting the kids off sailing for life wasn't part of the plan, but we just thought we'd go anyway and take it easy.

And it turned out fine.  We were going to head off Saturday lunchtime but Abell Point Marina - not renowned for it's depth - ran out of water so we couldn't get out! After checking the tide tables and marina depth chart, we turned on the sounder as we sat there in our berth and had 0.2m under the keel.  Not knowing the boat yet, or exactly where the transducer is mounted, we decided not to risk it, and took the kids over to Shingley Beach for a play and to let the tide come in a bit.  We bumped into friends there and the kids collected rocks on the beach ("this one's got glittery quartz in mum, look!").  After an hour we rounded the girls up to head back to the boat, explaining that sorry, no, we couldn't take the rocks back to the boat.  However the friends kindly offered to take them home for us! Arrrgh! "That's so kind" we lied, through gritted teeth.

We explained to Tilly and Sasha that we'd need them to sit quietly in the cockpit whilst we dropped the lines and got the boat out, which they did.  There was quite a bit of wind about (25-30knts) but Matt chose a bay around the corner (it took about 90 mins to get there) that was sheltered from the cold Southerlies.  The wind was dead astern the whole way and I wasn't keen on putting the sails up for the first time with so much wind about plus the potential to accidentially gybe.  We could put up preventers or alter course to get the wind more abeam but just decided to enjoy the sunshine and motor.  It was absolute heaven being back on the water.

The motion was kind and the girls loved it.  We showed them how to leave the cockpit and move around the boat (cautiously, stooped, one hand holding on at all times! Don't grab these, they're sheets and will wobble, hold these lifelines or these shrouds ..... ) and they took to it like ducklings to water.  Tilly found her place on the pulpit (Iron Will has the best pulpit) and spent ages up there, mesmerised.  While Sasha, who is currently convinced she has "special powers" was delighted to find that - when we had the auto-pilot on - she could steer the boat using these "special powers"!

We dropped anchor in about 6m of water with not another boat in sight.  Woodwark Bay is a beautiful area, only a few miles (as the crow flies) from our home!  We launched the tender for the first time - christened Little Willy or Wee Willy! - and Matt took the girls ashore for some beachcombing whilst I prepared dinner.  When they came back we enjoyed a spectacular sunset, and felt very lucky.

We passed an uneventful night at anchor, waiting for the wind to drop and it not happening!  Matt and I woke up a lot.  I felt like it was every 10 minutes but of course it wasn't.  I was confident we weren't dragging, and Matt had fixed up a snubber for the anchor, so it wasn't snatching too much, it was the wind generator! It's right outside our aft cabin and whenever a gust came through it was hum and buzz so loudly, and so fast, it would even set off the overspeed alarm! We didn't even know there was such an alarm!  Anyway, we survived the night.  The next day was about more beachcombing, covering Matt in the girls smelly socks, and lounging around enjoying life aboard.  Tilly and Sasha have found their fave spot below decks, the partition between the saloon and the galley, which is the perfect height for perching on, and also has a handy pole for swinging around on.

I have to say, we are loving the giant beanbag on the aft deck! This is my fave spot on the boat.

Eventually it was time to head back, in order to have enough water to get back into our berth at the marine.  When we left our sheltered bay, it was back to brisk winds, but on the nose this time.  In fact, so precisely on the nose that we would have had to fall off in order to sail.  I defer to Matt as skipper in all things marine - and am very happy to do so - except where sails are concerned, when he defers to me whilst he builds up his experience.

I was, as you may have gathered, nervous about putting the sails up.  I'd prefer to have had the standing rigging checked beforehand (we have it booked in - it's an old boat and one of the starboard forward swages is cracked) and I'd also prefer light airs for the first time, whilst the kids are on board and we are figuring the boat out.  So in the absence of these two factors, we chose to motor.  I felt like I was being overcautious and mumsy.  However, afterwards we found out that one of the backpacker boats, a retired maxi, had had a passenger airlifted off the evening before - they had left Whitehaven Beach and raised their sails, when one of the jibsheets got caught around a passengers legs during an accidental gybe and pulled her through the stanchions, causing severe injury and degloving her lower leg.  Absolutely horrific.  We'd heard one side of the Pan-Pan messages on the VHF whilst we were at anchor the night before, and later heard the full story.  It really brought home the dangers of sailing and the power of nature.

So we gently motored home, enjoying the sunshine and the spray as Iron Will nosed into the waves.  It was too wet for the pulpit this time, so the girls watched the water through the portholes in the cabin, looking for dolphins, and eventually fell asleep.

We berthed successfully at the marina when we got back, although we collected a small crowd who watched with interest as Matt maneuvered a large heavy boat through narrow channel into a tight space .... the steering is heavy and Iron Will definitely needs lifting out and having a good bottom scrub!

We were very sad to get back and no-one wanted to leave the boat and return to Sunday evening jobs at home and the real world.  Good thing we won't have to for much longer!