Jan 19, 2005--Preparing New Crew Members for an Ocean Passage
by Scott and Wendy Bannerot

(SetSail asked our Cruising Contributors: If you ever sail with crew, how do you prep them for an ocean passage? Do you go over nav issues, weather, safety, medical, food, etiquette, etc.? Here is Wendy and Scott's reply.)

	Crew member Paea Tavake keeps watch as we exit the fuel dock at Musket Cove Resort, Malololailai Island, Fiji, bound for Vanuatu.

We did not anticipate having crew other than friends and family when we embarked upon our intended world circumnavigation nearly ten years ago, yet unforeseen circumstances have made this occasionally very helpful. The motivation for us has been, very simply, to increase the safety margin of offshore passages due to missing or partially incapacitated regular crew, and, since 1999, the presence of a small child aboard. We have been extremely fortunate with every one of the individuals who decided to take the plunge with us. In each case the guest crew member has performed admirably, had a good experience, and adapted well to life offshore, and the majority had little or no prior experience.

Paea Tavake enjoying a koala in Australia after completing the passage from American Samoa via Tonga, Fiji, and Vanuatu.

Way back in March 1995, a backpacker line handler for our Panama Canal transit named Hans Dahlseng, from Norway, implored us to contact him if we ever needed crew. We promised to do so, privately believing this was a remote possibility. Lo and behold, 17 months later we were heading west from French Polynesia and Wendy's sudden and severe endometriosis was making offshore passage-making for her an exercise in severe abdominal pain. From Maupiti (western Society Islands) I faxed a heads-up to Hans and to a surfer friend from Hawaii we'd met by chance at Christmas Island, Eric Vogt, and by the time we pulled in to Pago Pago, American Samoa both had leapt at the opportunity and were on their way to meet us at their own expense.

I think having served fairly extensively as crew on various boats helps me to increase the likelihood of make incoming crew feel comfortable. Yes, we generally go over the basics of safety, galley duty, watch keeping, medical issues, the basics of weather, passage planning, and timing. We explain navigation fundamentals but leave this topic mostly for hands-on teaching under way. To us, however, the most important issues are teaching someone who lives on land how to be happy and comfortable at sea. We explain that the rhythm of life offshore is fundamentally different than terrestrial life. Sleep comes in shorter doses, and it's important to sleep well around the clock, night or day. The ability to relax off-watch is of utmost importance: close the door to the cabin, read a book, listen to music. Help yourself to snacks and beverages, and stay well-hydrated at all times by drinking plenty of water. Take one thorough shower every day, no matter how rough it is. Use the head comfortably and with impunity, and do not be shy. Everyone has to go, and in a boat you will be going in close quarters to your crewmates. No big deal.

	Scott shows off a small shark mackerel captured by crew member Mike Jayne at Majuro, Marshall Islands.

Now some of that may sound obvious but in my experience those simple actions make an immense difference in crew morale. Compare a semi-dehydrated, semi-constipated, stinking, greasy-haired, itchy-scalped, sleep-deprived person, no matter how good their intentions, to someone in a clean, well hydrated, well-rested, comfortable, and relaxed state, even if it's the same person, and the difference is stark. I find that sometimes I need to cajole crew members into upholding these standards, because particularly if it's rough, the first thing people do is develop mild lethargy ("Oh, I'll shower tomorrow...I'll just lie down in my watch clothes...I don't feel like struggling with getting a drink from the fridge just now", etc.). I also demand that they wear good equipment so they stay safe and dry on watch--sea boots and quality foul weather gear if it's sloppy, and a harness at all times. And I make every effort to avoid exceeding any crew member's limits by asking them to perform tasks that could be risky to themselves or the boat. It's strictly conservative canvas, and "wake me up immediately if anything whatsoever changes, or you have the least question about anything you see happening." We also prepare hot, nutritious meals in virtually all weather conditions.

And last, regardless of the passage conditions, comes maybe the most important lesson of all, one that I learned during a year aboard a high seas longliner: maintaining a good sense of humor aboard ship at all times. For example, by the time Hans, Eric, and I were descending out of the tropical waters of Tonga and into cooler, more boisterous conditions en route to New Zealand, we'd all settled into a comfortable routine of galley duty, watches, and offshore living. Eric and I had spent most of our time in the tropics, so we were bundling up more, and of course, being from Norway, Hans was sitting out on watch soaking wet in his t-shirts, reveling in the stiffer breezes and cooler air. Eric's newly-purchased foul weather gear was not living up to the price; it was, let's say, overly breathable, and as a result Eric was shivering and wet on watch. He never complained, but he understandably wasn't saying as much and the mood on board seemed to shift down a small notch. I fitted him up with a spare set of gear and boots, and then I waited until he was settled in to his watch before bursting through the companionway in an absolutely hideous--to the point of deeply disturbing adults and terrifying children--mask and nearly sending him overboard in alarm. I got Hans too, and Eric a second time belowdecks. That, and a system of Viking points based on archaic Norwegian law, compliments of Hans, kept us all on our toes the rest of the way in to Auckland.

Wendy and Debbie Mclean, shortly after Debbie completed a boisterous passage from New Zealand to Tonga as crew aboard ELAN, mainly for the purpose of keeping 8-month old Ryan safe. This took considerable courage for someone with no offshore experience, particularly when the seas got big, and she never wavered in her duties aboard.

These principles later helped, on successive cruising seasons, Kiwi auto body tradesman Dave Lowe and housewife Debbie Mclean make their first offshore passages, both from New Zealand to Tonga, and more experienced Kiwi friends Ken Kiddie and Hans Swete when they joined us one year for the passage from Tonga back to New Zealand. Two years later Mike Jayne, a young adventurer from Alaska, hooked up with us through mutual friend and best-selling author Peter Jenkins, and did a great job on the long passage from Vava'u, Tonga to Majuro, Marshall Islands. He helped immensely with 15-month old Ryan, and eased the watch schedule for Wendy, who was recovering from a bout with parasitic meningitis. Later the next year, with Wendy and Ryan home for medical attention and family visits, my old fishing industry compadre Capt. Skip Nielsen joined me for the 27-day passage from Majuro to Nuku'alofa, Tonga and then to Vava'u. Skip fished literally around the clock the entire time on board, catching blue marlin, sailfish, striped marlin, wahoo, mahi mahi, skipjack tuna, and hammerhead, blue, and mako sharks. Most recently, old Tongan friend Paea Tavake, wife of famed bush doctor Lea'aetoa, sailed with us from Pago Pago, American Samoa to Australia via Tonga, Fiji, and Vanuatu, turning in a stellar performance despite never having made an offshore passage.

Good music, good food, good hygiene, good naps, a sound, safe, and sensible routine, and lots of laughter make for a happy ship, regardless of experience.