Stahlratte Tales Continued

True to his word, Woods filled me in on the rest of his time on the big sailboat, from the romance of being a sailor turning to restlessness to motorsailing and landsickness...

"next order of business, the continuation and conclusion of the boat story. where did i leave off last? i think i was snorkeling in the reefs, loving the boat and the crew and the food--that night we had a barbecue and party on one of these islands where there was nothing but coconut trees and white sand. the food was excellent and the party got loud and a bit too much, so i headed down the beach in search of firewood for the bonfire and seashells. it was a great night out there on that island. away from the people and the noise i found silence and solitude. the next morning as the party-goers rose, the sickness began to spread. all that over-consumed the night before were feeling pretty lousy. i was up early, however, helping the crew prepare breakfast and get the sails set as we headed a short distance to another set of islands 10 miles away. i was still loving sailing. we stopped for the day and i partook in more snorkeling, and it was here, unfortunately, that i took my waterproof camera into the water to take some pictures of the reef, and it fried itself and died. very disappointing. the day was rather lethargic from then on, and i was beginning to need a project and realized that in order to survive on a sailboat, one must always have a project or two on the tick, in order to not go stir-crazy. fortunately, on a 106 year-old sailing vessel, the upkeep is endless. had i joined the crew, i would have had projects all day.

[Woody did end up purchasing a decent new camera in Bogota. He claims it works better than the bomb-proof $400 version his darling sister got for him...what the effff. At least we will be getting more pictures some day.]

the next morning we began the 30+ hour sail to cartagena. unfortunately the wind was not quite right, so we had to ¨motorsail¨ the entire way, which i found very unpleasant. the sound of the old diesel got right into your head, your stomach, and twisted them and banged them about relentlessly. for 30 hours. i helped set sails, then tried to get used to the rhythm and sounds of the boat and the open ocean. it was difficult and i found myself sleeping much of the day, but still feeling good enough to eat and talk. many others were losing themselves over the railings and not at all enjoying the trip. my time would come…

because i had slept so much during the day, i was up late talking with rollie as he had a 4 hour nightwatch. while we talked, rollie and i, we sailed into a storm. thunder, lightning, and wind--the whole works. it was quite thrilling. walking on deck became a game, a challenge to step and grab and remain stable and standing. i finally went to bed, listening to ¨the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald¨, over and over while we rocked endlessly. then i woke up and knew i had problems. for the next 4 hours, until landing in cartagena, i was wishing that i had never even thought about sailing on a boat on the ocean. i was so weak that i could only stand and walk for maybe 2 minutes before i had to sit, or better yet, lie down to rest awhile. and it was hot.

to get my bike on shore, we had to lower it into the dinghy, and then i had to sit on it while we motored to the dock. unfortunately for everyone involved, the water level was 3 feet lower than normal, which meant that the dock was 3 feet higher than normal, which meant that we had a beast of a time lifting the old girl up onto solid ground. prior to loading the bike into the dinghy, i didn´t think that i was going to be able to do it--but i made it to shore, barely, and once upon, i felt immediately better. not good, but much better. i looked up at the buildings and realized that they were tilted, and then they started to move. i thought that i had better go tell the builders on site that they had some issues here, and that they had better take a step back to look at what was going on. so this is ¨landsick¨, as the sailors call it. that last morning Pierre, one of the crew, asked me if i thought i might want to stay on board the stahlratte to work....i told him that i had better go ride my bike awhile...."

What did I tell you? Woody is not a man of the sea. Love him to bits, but he belongs on dry land, admiring the waters from the shore. I'm off to rest up as I've got a "race" mimicking my little brother's daily life --- hiking through the thick brush, riding bikes, kayaking and trying to get un-lost the whole time. I suppose this is what we posers do when we can't go out and live the great adventure in real life.

-- luludilly