10.25.06

Landfall

This is what our younger daughter had to say a few weeks ago about our then impending land life:

Hello, my name is Anouck. I am seven years old. In the past there has been ups and downs. In about two weeks we will be in Switzerland. The boat will be hauled out and we will move into an apartment. I think it will be quite different. Since I have not lived in a house for a year it will be very hard for me and my family for that matter, to get used to this. See we have not even slept in something that is not moving. And what is what I have to say.


Perhaps Rike is right (as she often is). Humans may not really be meant to spend all their lives on the water. We need to get back to land once in a while, if only to crave what we seek on the water. Therefore our temporary transition to land life (which is only a few days old) feels pretty good to all of us as we traded our ocean view for a mountain view in an apartment that is less than half the surface of our boat.

Even if southern France was a great way to end our 18 months of "bumming around", we all felt the pull of land as the time to haul Cénou out approached. While we enjoyed the short sail to St Tropez and skinny dipping in the cool clear water, it was the hikes on the islands of Port Cros and Porquerolles with the fragrance of pines and soil that reminded us where we really come from. Our eyes took in the shapes of windblown trees and bushes the way, early in our trip, they had gazed at the endless formations of waves. The girls happily gave in to their ancestral needs by gathering pine nuts for hours. Last but not least, Anouck finally learned to bike.

Nevertheless, the ever demanding sea was still requiring our attention. Because no single anchorage could protect us in all conditions, the near gales that succeeded each other kept forcing us to make decisions as to which anchorage would be best to take the brunt of the blow. Life became a routine of sorts. While it may seem strange to people who are on land, and probably view our experience as one giant vacation, we are discovering that most long term cruisers take vacations, often once a year. No, they do not charter boats, or go to a seaside resort. They go home, or visit friends and family on land for an extended time. They take a break from the cruising life.

Leaving the boat is the quickest way to give a nice change of pace for us and the girls. While this may not make up for the fact that Anouck and Celine have not had friends to play with since we last saw Zia back in mid-August, the girls at least get to see their grand-parents whom they have not seen for two years. As for us, and especially for me, a break from the responsibilities of cruising with one's family is a welcome respite. While some people relish to tell the tales of deafening winds and heart stopping waves, I take pride in the fact that with luck and care I managed to keep us comfortable and safe during the thousands of miles we covered. Rike has her own reasons for enjoying the time off the boat which, if I could get her to write a Cruisenews, she would explain much better than me I am sure. Still, she is well aware that her role in all this has been more than central, if that is possible. Without Rike's willingness, steadfastness and great organization there is no doubt that our cruising life would be in peril. Nevertheless, the sea is not her environment and because of that the benefits of time off the boat are pretty obvious.

There is no doubt that cruising has brought us closer as a family, but both Rike and I keep thinking that while that is very nice and worthwhile, we still need to provide the girls with the means to experience independence, which is the great victim of cruising. Although I do not allow them to operate the dinghy, this might change next year if Celine is able to start the engine which, right now, she can do fifty percent of the time. With no friends to play with it is even harder for Anouck and Celine to express themselves beyond our confines. For that reason and linguistic reasons as well, we are hoping to have them go to the local school for art classes. We have not asked yet but it seems that should be possible during our four month break.

Meanwhile we have left Cénou safe and secure on the hard in the south France (Port St Louis). I opted to un-step the mast as locals said winds up to 120 kmh (74mph) were clocked during the winter. To expose 86 square feet of mast surface to the wind that would undoubtedly generate vibration on the whole structure, just did not seem like a good idea. The cost of un-stepping, at only 100 USD, was a bargain. Now that the mast is off it will make turning the halyards end-over-end a snap while giving the rig a good check much easier.

We have a list of things to do over the winter, but luckily all of it is minor. We have to repair the outer skin where the U-bolt at the water-line threatened to pull out before crossing the Atlantic. This is from a failed repair that was done in the US. About five rivets that hold the wire conduit in the mast need to be replaced, and we have to service our windlass. Otherwise a summary look at the rig did not reveal any issues and the regular maintenance Cénou received has payed off.

So, we wish everyone well

Claude, Rike, Celine and Anouck