June 6, 2005--Elan Update Part 1:
So What Do We Do Now?
by Scott and Wendy Bannerot

	If you have to pause during mid-circumnavigation to come back home and work, doing charter fishing trips in the Florida Keys is a very fortunate option. Here Ryan and I, with our newly printed business t-shirts, catch a large barracuda (which we later released).

Several times since our departure from Florida in February 1995, the voyage has been on the ropes. The first time was in 1998. The location was Auckland, New Zealand, and the reason then was Wendy's endometriosis and consequent chronic pain problem. Bush doctor Lea'aetoa Tavake got us out of that one when he miraculously cured her (after Western medicine had done everything possible) during a last-ditch return to the Kingdom of Tonga. Unfortunately she'd no sooner recovered, given birth to Ryan, and we'd returned once more to Tonga when she contracted parasitic meningitis, the aftermath of which plagues her, and to some extent our sailing future, to this day. This health complication wasn't the only factor looming over our "open-ended working circumnavigation" as we finally approached the coast of eastern Australia in November 2002. We'd been winding down financially over the years, with dwindling modest investment income, and rising costs eating away at the funds we received from renting out our house in Florida. We'd staved off the inevitable for a couple of years with working stops in port, income no more than a temporary Band-Aid over the flow of red ink. We needed to re-group on several fronts, and Australia would be the place to try first.

We settled in at Lawries Marina in Mooloolaba, ramping up freelance photojournalism output for fishing and sailing magazines, and making medical appointments for Wendy in Brisbane. We were down, but not completely out, and although marina-bound, we were still living aboard and enjoying a foreign port. Ryan attended a delightful pre-school, Elan got some much-needed attention, and we hung in there on the bucks. By mid-2003 our visitor's visas were coming to an end, Wendy wasn't having much luck on the medical front, and it was time to make some serious decisions. When the summer fleet began to depart for the Pacific Islands, it hit harder than expected...we'd hoped to find a way out there and be moving along crisply for New Caledonia, not sitting in port preparing to put the boat in mothballs while we went home to sort things out. We got our first taste of post-cruise depression, even though in theory at least it wasn't over yet. Here's what we ended up doing.

Re-entering our former society full-time for a while gave Ryan and me a chance to do things like play and coach tee-ball - we're the last two guys in line.

Australia had really taken us by surprise...an immense cruising area and overland exploration destination in its own right, incredibly varied, and populated by some of the friendliest, most down-to-earth people we'd ever met. We were surfing every day and enjoying everything about the place...heck, we could live here awhile no problem if only they'd let us. One thing led to another; we researched the immigration website and discovered a catch-all residency application category that might apply to our rather unconventional circumstances. We decided to go for it, collecting all the necessary material and beginning the big paper chase prior to getting on the plane for the U.S.A. I had job possibilities with two charter fishing operations, fishery analysis as another potential option, and by coincidence a series of timely feature articles on Australia. We'd need to apply at the embassy in Washington, D.C. and wait for months. This would give us time to sort out medical, house, and financial issues, so Elan went on the hardstand and we were off to visit family and complete our residence application in the USA

During the seven years we'd spent on "the big trip" my parents had stored some of our possessions and treasures from our travels, including my technical library and a large and growing slide archive. We'd deposited my charter fishing boat (a 20-foot, outboard-powered, center-console Seacraft) and trailer in an abandoned limestone mine specializing in underground vehicle storage, and placed other equipment in the un-rented portion of our Florida house, all in anticipation of needing to come back one day and resume our business endeavors - primarily the charter fishing business and various writing jobs. Now our lives were scattered between several locations and across 1400 miles of the USA Wendy needed surgery, we all needed to settle somewhere, and the bills would need to be paid. No way around it - we bought a used car, rented a U-Haul truck, hitched up the Seacraft, collected everything we owned from our parent's houses and drove back home to Tavernier, Florida, reluctantly told our long-term renters we'd need the house for a while, and suddenly we were back getting ready to jump in to the grind.

	Wendy and Ryan enjoyed settling in to the house for a while. Preparing meals in a full-sized kitchen was a novelty.

I didn't perceive the full impact of all this until recently. The mental jump from seven years of cruising to "normal society" is a big one, even if you still have a foot in the door in the form of a voyaging boat awaiting your return to an exotic port. I'd owned the Florida house for 18 years, but never lived in it. Those first nights in the house were a little uneasy. The windows were open, and we could hear people and vehicles. The thing didn't rock at all, and it didn't swing on the hook...it just sat there, concrete on a hard coral reef skeleton. Furthermore, by going back into business, we needed to spend a considerable sum of money first before we could expect the outgoing cash tide to slacken, and hopefully start to come back in. Would the customers still be there? Could we book enough work to accomplish our needs? How would Ryan do socially, and what about school? Would Australia accept our residency application, and if not, what would we do then? Could anyone or anything ever fix Wendy? This was only 15 months ago, and beneath all the layers of worry, the possibility of sailing along a lovely blue ocean pointed for some idyllic island chain seemed infinitely far away.

(Check back soon for Part 2 of this article.)