The notion of simplicity can be seductive. At a life stage of school aged kids, a home in suburbia, and a busy work environment, what could be simpler than to cruise in the Pacific for a year?
My analytical brain might however try to describe the transition of the last 3 months as an aggressive reductive process, where the force of physical safety and logistics for a family and crew, forces the priorities of the day. The myriad of non-critical sailing and other factors of life drift away. Success in work life is arguably no different: to prioritise ruthlessly and don’t waste time on what doesn’t have impact.
The difference in adventure sailing (aka fixing boats in exotic places) is that priorities are abundantly obvious, but change frequently and with impunity. Sometimes that does bring a type of simplicity I suppose. There are major new forces to respect and contend with: weather, breakages and distance. A trifecta of these factors is inherently stressful: and a day out of Minerva Reef, we managed to foul our propeller at sea in heavy weather and dragged a colourful mass of sail fabric through the water for a day like a small parachute.
This contrivance of problems couldn’t be addressed right away. It would be madness to dive into the tangle of ropes in those conditions, and we sailed through the night without being able to do anything. My mind churned on what we would do if we couldn't free the sail, and how we would get through the reef passes into Fiji? But we had to wait until the sea state calmed before attempting anything.
They next morning, the waves did calm. We hove-to to settle QuickStar into a stable motion with the wind abreast. Serendipitously, our crew member and friend, Diver, was an ex navy diver. He could advise and spot the dive, and separate fact from my naive ideas of what was ahead. I donned a wetsuit, knife, snorkelling gear and beanie to protect my head, and attached a rope to pull me back to the surface if it all went awry. The rope was also a tether of information - Diver ran through tug-signals. We settled with just one - a series of short sharp tugs meant get out of the water any way you could. And it might come from either end of the rope. My undisciplined mind filled with images of the head of a hooked tuna head we had seen just before at Minerva Reef (all that was left after the body was snapped up by a shark before it could be reeled in), of 2000m of water below, and a solid hull slapping the water above my head.
And so, abundantly focused on the present, and filled with adrenaline, I dropped into the shadow-water beneath QuickStar. Being under water has always invoked a calmness and I swam down smoothly to the prop and rudder. The rudder was clear and the prop would counter-turn by hand amongst the wallowing jellyfish of sail which was a promising sign. A couple of dives later, the prop was freed. The clarity, and mild euphoria lasted for days afterwards.
Diver helped me back onboard from the transom, and the state of the crew was immediately different. Jokes and smiles, and we relaxed with the knowledge that we could again use the engine when needed. We turned round to the wind, and QuickStar surged again toward Fiji.
Aubrey