Cape Town to Canada

Labour of Love — A Gift from my Mother

It took me a while to break the news to my mother that we were going cruising. I knew she would ask all those questions to which we had no answers and I knew she would worry — that’s what mother’s do!

Once my Mom got over her initial sadness, and stopped imagining us slamming into waves the size of whales and stopped picturing the keel of Summer Love being ripped off by a partly submerged container and realized that we’d sooner get run over by a taxi in Cape Town, she set to work and made us this beautiful quilt.

Starting with the mariner’s compass my mother carefully cut out around the pattern pieces and sewed them together. She pieced together the stars, the planets and the sunbursts before adding the rows of flying geese — her subtle way of suggesting that we too fly south during the long, cold winters.

We have returned, only twice in the past four years, but delight in this gift every day.

Note to self: Perhaps we should take the hint!

[Top photograph: Quilt on Summer Love

Middle photograph: Quilt on Lily B]

Mar 26

Speaking of penguins … if you sail out of Cape Town with the south easter on the stern, 6 hours will get you to Dassen Island —home of the African Penguin. Here we are anchored at House Bay, where where you can dive off the boat and pick up West Coast Rock Lobster (Crayfish to South Africans) in rocky crevices hidden by kelp. If you stay overnight EVERYONE does anchor-watch. If the wind changes from SE to NW (which it often does without notice) you could end up on the beach.

Mar 25

View high resolution

From the archives:

Rounding Cape Point on Summer Love with the back of Table Mountain jutting out west. This is NOT the southern most tip of Africa, that’s Cape L’Augulas to the east.

South of here? Well, there’s not much, just the treacherous Southern Ocean and Antarctica — fit only for penguins.

Feb 22

View high resolution

“One day in late January, I cried into the blackness, “I can’t take it anymore.” I chided myself out loud. ”Hey, Einstein, what are you going to do, go home? Missed your chance. Now take it, or die trying.”

I got up, turned on a light, pulled a shotgun shell out of its box, and placed in on the shelf next to the shot glass. Because I usually filled the shot glass with whiskey on Wednesday and looked at it lovingly until Saturday, I knew my headlamp would fall often on the printed message: Double 00 Buck Shot, Magnum Load. Translation: If you want to splash your brains all over this cabin, this should do it nicely. Just do it. Otherwise, quit your weeny bellyaching.

— Alvah Simon, author of North to the Night

OK. So it’s not so cold and dark here in B.C.

I shall quit my weeny bellyaching.

Feb 13

On grey days like these when the sky is opaque and my mind is as muddy as the sea, I turn to my photographs.

To remind me of brighter times.

From the archives — The Greek Isle of Simi

where the sky is bright blue. No blemishes, no bruises, just blue

and where the lack of rain is evident. It’s the price they pay.

I know the sky is blue here too, one has to be patient or one has to fly above 35 000ft to witness it !

But worse than droughts or months of dull grey skies is that I’ve now got the song “Little Boxes” stuck in my head.

Argh!

Jan 23

View high resolution

Back to the archives … these structures proved to be very useful when sailing in foreign waters!

Looks like it could be a great weekend getaway too.

On second thoughts,

no — bad idea —

I can’t sleep with the light on.

Jan 13

It’s a little chilly here this morning, but at least it’s not raining.

Jan 10

A Chinese pencil box, a hand painted fan and a Waterford crystal champagne glass.

I wrapped each one carefully and put them in a tote bag. I looked around the living room and then stopped. No. Just a few pieces at a time. I left the tote at the front door to take down to the boat later.

Under our bunk in the aft cabin was a large compartment which housed the emergency steering gear. The marine plywood was painted with white enamel so it was clean, dry and a perfect place to ~~store~~ hide my treasures. Plastic was for sailing, durable and safe, but a girl deserves a few fine things when she’s in port. Next, I took down twelve Irish linen napkins, a dainty porcelain olive bowl and a pewter wine bucket.

It did not take Robb long to notice that Summer Love was starting to sit rather low in the water. He paced the dock, scratching his chin then checked the dock lines and the bilges.

I said nothing. (Which is not often).

A week before we sailed from Cape Town we hauled Summer Love out of the water to check the hull and sea-cocks. Everything was good, except the waterline, so Robb decided to paint the anti-fouling a little higher to stop green goo from growing on the hull. After all, this was a race and we didn’t want barnacles and slime slowing us down.

The water tanks were full, the diesel tank was almost full. We had enough salami, cheese and olives to get us across the Atlantic, and of course, beers — there were plenty.

So, Robb put it down to that. Summer Love was laden with provisions.

Four weeks later, we found Brazil and were placed 3rd in the cruising class! Much celebration was necessary. It was time to open the Moet et Chandon. I dug out the wine bucket and the crystal glass, two of the napkins and the olive bowl, set them on the cockpit table and filled the bucket with ice. I pulled the champagne out of the fridge and plunged it into the bucket.

It did not take Robb long to notice. He shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s it. It’s all that extra weight which slowed us down — we could’ve come first! Now, what else have you got stashed away?”

I just smiled and pointed to my empty glass.

Time would tell.