Magic Dragon anchored in Mopelia Lagoon.

April 8, 2005 - WHY GO CRUISING?
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

We've heard all these and many more pithy phrases from those who have gone cruising in their own sailing boats only to find that life afloat did not measure up to their dreams. I'll never forget, in a calm anchorage, the sound of weeping wafting over still water and a man's voice saying, "But it was YOUR idea to sell the farm."

So why on earth do it? We ask ourselves this question from time to time after a particularly uncomfortable passage when the gods have tossed a succession of cold fronts in our path to dampen our enthusiasm, or a procession of rough seas to sap our will. We've been at it for many years. What is it that keeps us leading this life? Is it because of the freedom it gives us? It cannot be entirely that for boats are hard taskmasters and require constant attention, afloat on an element that seeks to destroy them. I suppose it is because we have the illusion of freedom - subject of course to winds and currents, political stability, piracy and so on. But still, we FEEL free.

We have a feeling of remoteness from encroaching rules and regulations. We need have no set hours, no time-clock, no neighbors unless we want them, few obligations, and no ties other than those we choose to live by or those dictated by the implacable gods - the seasons, the weather, El Nino...

If it is variety that is important, we can vary our cruising areas from large cities or crowded coves to isolated islands or remote coastlines. We can sample different foods, customs, languages, nationalities, climates, hemispheres. Sometime we discover the facts behind the headlines.

Jane in cockpit with a birding field guide.

We peak into others' lives, those of both Earth People and of fellow voyagers. We may share anchorages and adventures with all manner of mankind of all ages and stages, from a range of social and economic levels, nationalities and tastes. We have privacy if that is what we want, or we can accept and return hospitality wherever we go. Wherever we are, we are at home in our sheltering carapace. Cruising is one way to do our own thing without depending on others, one way to pander to champagne tastes on a beer budget. Self-reliance is the name of our game. There is no need to pack and unpack, to decide what to take. We have it all with us. Our lives have continuity in the midst of change, a familiar setting wherever we may happen to be. Our boat is our womb with a view, our very own self-contained earthbound space ship.

Everything takes a little longer - reaching a destination, getting ashore, tying up the dinghy, hauling provisions on our backs. Time loses its meaning. Just doing laundry can be a major undertaking, though in the tropics, less so for there we may wear very little. Self-sufficiency is vital, for if we can do most everything ourselves, we can live richly on a modest budget. For those who must depend on the skills of others, blue water cruising can be an expensive business.

	A gathering on Magic Dragon.

"Boating is a disease," our old friend Bill reckoned. "Fortunately a healthy one." He liked to point out just how multifaceted and challenging life afloat can be. "Believe me," he used to tell us, "no other sport demands one quarter as much as sailing." Bill liked to enumerate the skills a cruising sailor should have. "Knowledge of design, of boat construction, ship handling in all weathers, meteorology, piloting, navigation, marlinespike seamanship, rigging, sewing, painting, carpentry, metalwork and plumbing, as well as electrical and mechanical skills. Even cooking," he added. "Yes, and you can enjoy sailing to a ripe old age." Bill certainly did.

Fortunately, crossing oceans is only a small part of cruising. Some people glory in the vastness of the ocean. They welcome hardship. They relish the challenge of survival. They choose to sail to the most inhospitable places. We are just the opposite. Ocean voyages are to be endured till we get to the next landfall, though passages can be delightful. If the weather is favorable, that is.

Trouble is, weather is something that we can do little about, other than in the planning stages. We try to plan a cruise to avoid being where hurricanes are likely, and to stay clear of winter gales. In the old days, we copied radio weather broadcasts, drawing up our own weather charts from the information. Now with onboard weather fax software, we let a laptop computer draw the maps for us. Not that that guarantees anything at all. To be able to understand and interpret the interplay of stacked isobars, active fronts, deepening lows, fast-moving troughs and cyclonic depressions is quite another thing. As for taking evasive action, that is not always possible. But at least we can prepare the vessel for bad weather before it hits.

Reef walking.

Seagoing days are taken up with routines of watch keeping, sail trimming, navigation, meteo observations, cooking, cleaning, eating, sleeping, baking, and boat maintenance where necessary. We catch fish if we are lucky. If we catch more than our fridge or mini-freezer can deal with, we bottle it. We keep binoculars handy so that we can identify the sea birds that visit or follow the ship. We listen to the news on short wave. We listen to music. Like so many other cruisers, I keep a journal. Since I have a fairly settled stomach, I am able to read for hours on end. I may travel from century to century, or to outer space in the comfort (or discomfort) of our own boat. I am never lonely, for when reading I may encounter people I'd never otherwise get a chance to meet. As for keeping fit, the motion of the boat and the swaying and bracing of our bodies is a form of isometrics which keeps us from getting out of shape in the confines of a small seagoing vessel. Cruising folk tend to be an active, healthy lot.

Even in relatively good weather, an ocean passage may not be easy. It may be too hot or too cold.

Dangers lurk. Scalds, breaks, dislocations, burns, crushings, food poisoning, denghe fever, malaria - we've heard of them all, as well as diabetic coma and childbirth at sea. So far, we have been uncommonly lucky. An adequately stocked medicine chest and more than our share of luck have kept us safe so far. A galley or engine room fire or explosion at sea is a possibility always to be guarded against by means of smoke alarms, overheating alarms, fire fighting equipment and extreme care. Collisions are another hazard that small boat voyagers are constantly seeking to avoid, collisions with other cruising yachts, with ships, with semi-submerged containers, with reefs, with islands, with whales. We keep what we call our 'whale kit' handy while passage-making, containing flares, EPIRB, drinking water, signaling mirror, fishing gear, emergency rations, and a host of other such items.

Rather than dwell on the dangers and shortcomings of blue water cruising, we prefer to think of its pleasures. Free to go wherever wind or whim takes us, or we don't have to go anywhere. Like migratory birds we may choose to head for lower latitudes when temperatures drop, or we can stay put. Winter too has its charms. We can be swept up into the local scene, or we can simply stand back and watch. Or we can leave. We have privacy if that is what we want, or we can accept and return hospitality wherever we go. Friendships are quickly made because of the transitory nature of our lives, but they are perhaps more intimate in nature because of just that.

	Snorkling.

The delights of ocean voyaging are many. Landfalls are always exciting. There's the thrill of exploring new areas, or revisiting familiar places. There are moments of euphoria while swimming, gunkholing, sightseeing, rowing, sailing, snorkeling, chewing the cud of contemplation. Those of us who appreciate the simple things of life have the advantage for there are always sunrises, sunsets, night skies.

Cruising in a sailing boat is not everyone's cup of tea. But for eternal vagabonds, meandering under sail (or iron horse, for that matter) can be a recurring delight, a surprise party where we never quite know what each new day will bring. We are sometimes offered houses ashore to house-sit while their owners are away. Just the other day we answered, as we always do, that we prefer to stay on the boat. We are lucky. It suits us both.

We are often asked, "When are you going to settle down?" Miche,l who has been playing with designs for a small habitat, asked me only this week, "Do you want to keep leading this gentle existence or do you want to put one foot in the grave?" We've been laughing about it ever since.

The following excerpt we first came across years ago on SUNFLOWER. I copied and framed it.

Houses are but badly built boats
so firmly aground that you cannot think of moving them.
They are definitely inferior things,
belonging to the vegetable not animal world, rooted and stationary,
incapable of gay transition.

From Racundra's First Cruise by Arthur Ransome