Dec 15, 2004--Home Afloat for the Holidays
by Scott and Wendy Bannerot

	Tony Herrick and Wendy, Christmas 1995 at Christmas Island, Republic of Kiribati, just before dinner aboard Elan.

Wendy carries the Christmas traditionalist torch aboard ELAN. Ten Christmases have passed since our departure from Florida in 1995, seven of which we've spent aboard. Provided she's given a free hand to get into the full swing of things--and what I'm talking about here when I say a "free hand" can get fairly extreme--she's completely happy doing it on the boat regardless of location. Part of her fun comes from improvisation. Doesn't matter where we are, we have some kind of fully adorned tree, presents, and a huge feast; she festoons the boat with all manner of decorations; and she invites people to come share with us whether she knows them or not.

The first year, when we had anchored only four days previous outside the lagoon of Christmas Island, Kiribati, was the only year we did not have Christmas lights. Even for Christmas 2001 moored out in Pago Pago Harbor, Tutuila, American Samoa, she was running full lights off the inverter, power budget be damned--"full" means all around the lifeline, up and over the transom arch, and with a string running from the bow to the masthead and back aft from there to the transom. I must say that in the twilight, with the majestic, rain forest-covered mountains in the background, that her efforts produced a spectacular profile. The Samoans loved it. Two other wives in the anchorage followed suit, with the husbands joining me in having to run the engines during the day to try and make up for all of those holiday amps.

Ryan testing out his new scooter at Bundaberg Port Marina, Christmas Day 2002.

I thought the light thing had run its course in Pago, but despite her solemn promises to cut down on the amount of stuff on board prior to a busy 2002 season of island-hopping to Australia, I came home one mid-December evening to find the lifeline and transom arch glittering once again at Bundaberg Port Marina. She'd hidden a huge string of lights at some undisclosed location for all of those sea miles in anticipation of another Christmas afloat.

Fond family memories seem to fuel Wendy's enthusiasm for Christmas. While I certainly have those too, I never remember "getting" the part about people being extra nice or helpful to each other just because it's December. Why not simply do it all year long? As for the material side of Christmas, Wendy and I were so happy to have each other, a boat, and a situation that permitted us to take off around the world; anything more lost much of its meaning. Being in remote locations also magnified the pleasure and value of human relationships, especially making someone else feel happy with something that you could do for them. That first year afloat at Christmas Island in 1995, we met a South African single hander named Tony Herrick. He was making a beeline for home having purchased a second-hand Westsail 32 in San Diego. Wendy invited Tony out for Christmas dinner. She'd bought a roast back in Tahiti and stuck it in the back of the freezer, and the look of sheer joy that the sight of a completely unexpected roast beef dinner put on Tony's face, way out in the middle of nowhere, was worth the entire holiday.

	Christmas aboard 2002 was a big one-this is Ryan and Scott testing out the feel of his new surf board.

Three more Christmases passed, all spent dockside in New Zealand, before the Christmas that changed all Christmases came along...that was our son Ryan's first holiday season in 1999. He was then four months old, and we left the boat near Auckland to fly home for our first holidays stateside since departure, so he could meet his family. Whatever your feelings about values and material things and Christmas, one thing seems certain: it's a big deal for kids, an opportunity to begin shaping them in to fine young people, and, well, just plain fun. We've tried to wrap up the material things for him with themes like companionship, education, and athletics, trying to choose things that are not only fun and captivating, but that engender mental and physical stimulation and closer contact with us. We also emphasize giving to others, and it seems to have taken strong root in his values, sometimes almost to a fault. He has on numerous occasions encouraged kids to play with his toys and then said, "You can keep that toy forever, it's yours now."

Ryan on his "kissmas bike", Christmas 2001, Pago Pago, Tutuila, American Samoa. This turned out to be the bionic bike, enduring incredible abuse on deck en route to Australia, and is still working now at Ryan's friend's house in Oz.

Early December 2000 found us pulling in to Majuro, Republic of the Marshall Islands. Ryan at 16 months had now sailed from New Zealand to Tonga, and from there to Micronesia, logging well over 3,000 offshore miles. Majuro for Christmas made the whole crew happy…an exotic tropical locale, the presence of some well-stocked stores for Wendy to shop, and Ryan, well, he was quickly caught up in a pack of brown laughing kids, rapidly learning to speak Marshallese, and for him every day was like a holiday anyway. Those happy times flowed down with us to Pago Pago for Christmas 2001, the first year Ryan truly began to absorb the event. I remember the loads of gaily colored bicycles that appeared for sale on every street corner, and how much Ryan wanted one. Wendy and I of course decided to find him one, hopefully with enough quality to withstand the beating it would take living on the deck of ELAN. Meanwhile Wendy insisted that it had to be a surprise, and so she carefully explained to Ryan that those bikes he was seeing were actually for other kids, which he accepted with surprising equanimity. Consequently I had to endure the excruciating pain of walking everywhere with Ryan while he pointed and exclaimed, "Daddy, Daddy kissmas bikes, kissmas bikes…not for Wyan." Finally, late on Christmas Eve when we were dinghying back out to the boat after unwrapping presents at the house of local friends, including his new bike, he made a solemn announcement as we pulled alongside. "Daddy, Mommy, thank you for my kissmas bike." I've of course told him the whole story and now when he wants to mess with me he repeats the old "kissmas bike, kissmas bike…not for Wyan" line to me.

	That's Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus coming to visit Ryan on Christmas Day 2002, Bundaberg Port Marina, Australia. This simple gesture by a lovely retired British sailing couple spread an incredible amount of joy around the kids of the marina.

Christmas 2002, when we docked near the mouth of the Burnett River in subtropical Australia, heralded a new era of vastly increased athleticism and mental ability for Ryan, reflected in his gifts of a scooter and a surf board. I went a little too far on the latter and opted months later to add a less dangerous foam board to his quiver, luckily before the first board hurt him, but this early exposure got him standing up surfing with ease since the age of three, and of course he can now ride the higher performance board too. Our first outing was Christmas day, and these outings together by now exceed 100. The following year we put the boat on the hard in Mooloolaba, not too far south along the coast from Bundaberg, and did another traditional round of holidays with family in the U.S.A. in the midst of other pressing business, which will be the case again this year.

Ryan opening presents aboard Elan at Bundaberg, Australia, 2002.

What can we say about Christmas afloat after the past decade? Missing relatives is not a huge factor for any of us, I think because we have been able to visit off and on and because we and our families are very secure in our love for each other. While I would have said prior to departure that Wendy was in the greater danger of not liking Christmas afloat, the reality has been that she's absolutely loved it. I think Wendy simply loves Christmas wherever she is, no more, no less, and that she has transferred this tendency to Ryan. For my part, I distinctly prefer Christmas afloat, and I have taken particular joy in the two most remote Christmases to date, Christmas Island and the Marshall Islands. Somehow they seem the most beautiful and pure. That said, I live the enjoyment of Christmas almost entirely through the joy of Wendy and Ryan, and for those we might be able to touch with the good fortune and joy of our lives.