ALL HOPE IS LOST! oh wait ... no ... it's ok. Sorry.

~~~







Today the officials of ARC told Cap'n Mark that we could not sail unless we got a new, larger life raft. The one onboard now is certified to carry four Desperate Souls. ARC cleverly pointed out that we have five potentially desperate souls. Our argument was strong; we could easily fit five on the raft if needed, and our route is so well-traveled, we would not have to wait all that long before being scooped out of the briny deep.

ARC were not impressed.

Forgetting for a moment that a new life raft would cost around £4,000.00 pound sterling (that's around $78,860,093.92 dollars - U.S.), the more damning fact is that we could not purchase one in time. We had a very real problem.

Salvation happened a few hours later. Jim, the captain of the British monohull "Ino" most graciously agreed to trade his 6-person life raft for our 4-person, since he has a crew of four. When we arrive in St. Lucia, we will trade back. If not for this, we would have been in trouble. Safety in numbers, even before we head out to sea!

As it stands now, we could actually carry one extra person in our life raft. Therefore, if the boat sinks and we are forced to get in the life raft, we could still pluck one other even-more desperate soul out of the sea. Heroes! That's us. How could someone be an even more desperate soul? Perhaps they had been watching Bee Movie and they jumped.

It's been repeatedly stated, by many a seasoned sailor, that it is better in an emergency to stay with the real boat if at all possible. Dudley, a crewman on the Ino, put it best when he said, "One should never step down to get into a life raft; only up."

1st runner-up in the quotes department was that guy in that movie who mumbled repeatedly, "never gitoutta the boat ...never gitoutta the boat ... " Of course, if memory serves, I believe that he had just been attacked by a "F***** tiger".




This morning, Barry, Tom, and Keith walked to a nearby bakery for fresh bread.



After which, we crossed the street for a cup of espresso. While it was quite good, Barry is not used to the strong stuff. He finished his, but I don't think he enjoyed it like we did. He said it was too much, but Tom said he needed it in order to turn into a pirate.





Please don't mention to Tom's wife that he is a pirate.





~~~

No flag, no country!

~~~

Keith, Louie, Tom, Galina, Mark, Zhenya, and Barry

On Sunday, Crew and Captains of all ARC participant boats paraded around the shark-infested harbor in a display of international cooperation that made the U.N. look like a dysfunctional and archaic entity. Ahem.

Many of us, including the crew of Maverick Dream, did not promenade together. Instead, we each walked under the flag of our home country. In our case, Tom and Louie held the flag of the Netherlands.


Tom and Louie

Zhenya and Galina represented well their homeland of Russia.

Galina and Zhenya

Mark was asked to do the honor of carrying the European Union flag, and Barry (England by birth, Malta as his home, with 36 other addresses in his career) joined him.


Mark (with EU flag) and Barry (waving)

I walked with the Americans, or, fat people. We all made the circuit around the harbor in grand fashion, along with proud countrymen from countless other countries.


Tum tee tum can you seeeee

Ze Germans

The parade was not long, but it was filled with the spirit of the ARC event. All of us have been busy preparing for the long journey westward, and the anticipation is palpable. Each time we met a new person, we were greeted with a real smile and a firm handshake. There is a subtle message in each of these encounters; we are all well aware that, should we get into a difficult situation at sea, the closest of any one of these people would come to our aid. And vicé versa. That was the serious side of this display. The other, much more overt side of it was an iteration that these are people who love to live, and know how to laugh - except Sean and Xavier (they know what they did).

Once the parade ended, we gathered and held a flag raising ceremony.

The band played on, while a skinny Santa Clause (or two) threw flour in the air and a group of Vikings tussled amongst a throng of pirates. This was foreshadowing of the Grand Dinghy Race that was about to begin.

The object of the Dinghy Race, as far as we could tell, was to cheat, swindle and befuddle your way to an ill-defined finish line in the water. The first one to do so ... was declared nothing ... as no declarations were made. Mostly, it was a chance to put others into the tainted waters before they could do the same. While these high jinx were ongoing, many of us had already started remembering all the work that must be done before we could begin the audacious undertaking of piloting a floating camper across one of the planet's largest bodies of water.



Today has been about that very business. We attended a seminar on boat rigging, picked up hardware, flares, and a spare bucket from the boat shop, cruised the grocery store for preliminary items (more compete food details later), and arranged for the long-overdue purchase of a new dinghy for the Maverick Dream. This week of preparation seems like the team bus ride to a big game. There is an abundance of enthusiasm, but we are all checking our gear and making mental reviews of the play book.

~~~

Are zee papers een order?!?

~~~




















Today the Maverick Dream was boarded by a Safety Inspector for the World Cruising Club. We were told to produce life vests, a grab bag of survival gear, flares, a life raft, a manual lever for steering the rudders should the wheel fall off, a knife, and a long list of other gear. With a couple of small exceptions, our craft passed inspection. The same fella will return on Tuesday morning to follow-up and make certain that we have a medical book and a certificate verifying that our life raft is up to snuff.

The inspection went something like this:

Inspector: "You will need _______ (insert some piece of safety equipment here), in case your craft were to sink."

Cap'n Mark: "Yes, we have that, but our craft will not sink. It is a catamaran, and they are extremely safe."

The inspector would look at our optimistic Cap'n and envision the skipper of the Titanic as he declared his craft unsinkable. This happened repeatedly, as one might imagine. With every declaration of confidence from Cap'n Mark, there came deeper inquisitions from the Inspector. It was, in fact, The Spanish Inquisition.







Not so unexpected.

Your humble scribe, for one, was pleased to have an Inspector who cared enough to distrust us and dig deeply.

We are already working out jobs on the boat, as well as a watch schedule:

During the day, all will be on watch.
6:00 pm to 8:00 - Dinner (all on watch)
8:00 pm to 10:00 pm - Barry and Tom (co-watchers)
10:00 pm to 1:00 am - Cap'n Mark
1:00 am to 3:30 am - First Mate Louis
3:30 am to 6:00 am - Keith

We're all comfortable with this schedule, because it puts Mark and Louis on watch during the most intense times. I am an early riser, and my watch means I get to watch the sun come up. Barry and Tom are early to bed types, so they too are happy. Neither Mark nor Louis have any faith at all in the rest of us, thus proving they are fit to lead. All happy.

In the next couple of days, we will take the boat out for a bit of fishing and a lot of training. In addition, we will be taking day classes on various safety and skills subjects. By the time we set sail for realsies, we will be a Swiss freaking watch.

We are getting on well, but I miss Ellen and Ro.




~~~

Roight! Whot sall 'is then?

~~~

The Little Green Man stands guard over our table at Heathrow

London, in the state of England -
While it's long since been proven that the Finest People in the World travel by night, an international red-eye is always a good reminder. Wedged between a woman who never had a thought she didn't verbalize and an Icelandic family of five, the Staff and Management of The Nationals Post set out for Londontown. The good ship and crew were scheduled for a prompt 19:15 departure, and - true to form - we embarked at precisely 19:52. As the Cap'n explained it; there was a "minor glitch" with one of the craft's onboard computer systems. The plane went completely dark, then lit-up like a bowling alley on dollar beer night, then went to normal lighting. Twice. Once this was done, we were "air worthy". So the turn-it-off-and-turn-it-back-on-again rule also applies to A330's.

At Heathrow, we purchased one of those universal adapters that allows one to plug anything into anything. We promptly plugged Norse into one end of it and Cantonese came out. Then we found a spare outlet and plugged in our Mac, iPod, camera, and hairdryer. Planes started losing altitude, so we disconnected the camera.

We have an uncanny knack for landing in ques behind horrible people. Today, it was at the the Krappy Koffee Kiosk at Gatwick. A Jamaican gentleman had just purchased his go-juice. The cashier made an minor counting error, and shorted him £1.00. He began a slow-burning scolding, noting to the lady that, "he cannot afford to endure such costly mistakes". After the cashier politely apologized and handed him the additional pound (she hadn't yet shut the drawer), he demanded his receipt.
"I already gave you your receipt, sir."
"No you didn't. I need that receipt!"
"You put it in your pocket."
"It's not here. GIVE ME MY RECEIPT, NOW."
"Ass", said we.
He glanced at us, but continued to the cashier, "You are incompetent. Now give me my receipt."
"Sir, I gave you your receipt."
We jumped into the conversation again, since we knew we would never see him again, and besides, we could take him, "Perhaps did Jamaica mistake-ka?"
He fumbled through some other pockets and finally retrieved the receipt.
"Here it is. I have it."
He then gathered his pocket leavings and leveled his bony finger in the cashier's face.
"Focus" he said with a dead-eye stare, and he started to leave.
"Don't forget your coffee too!" we inserted helpfully and with a big smile.

The best part about being a traveling American is that nobody knows where you live, and everybody assumes you have a gun.

We are now blogging as we await the arrival of Barry the Fine Gent from Kent. Together, we will fly from Gatwick to Gran Canaria. Mark will be waiting for us at the airport to whisk us away to the Maverick Dream. No question; he'll be there waiting for us. No question at all.

http://www.worldcruising.com/arc/



~~~

Nationals Float

~~~

Now that the hottest action in MLB is the vote for Blooper of the Year, the staff and management of TNP is going on an international excursion in a wee tiny boat.

We will head for London this week. From Heathrow*, we will board a bus, or trolley, or skipjack - whatever they call them over there - and head to Gatwick.
Call it tourist dumpster hopping.

At Gatwick, we will meet up with a fine English gentleman of good seasoning who is flying in from Malta. You youngsters know Malta from the swell crosses worn by those fire fighter guys for some reason.


Home of the venerated milk ball


Post-pleasantries, we will board an aeroplane and head south to the Canary Islands. After the initial diplomatic gestures of exchanging gifts and smallpox with the natives, we will meet up with three more men; Two Dutchmen and one from the dark side of Pluto.

The purpose of all this scurrying about the planet is to board a small catamaran and sail it across the Deep Blue Sea. No really.

I will try try try to post updates on our off-season adventure ... if the seas are kind and the satelite uplink works. WATCH THIS SPACE.

* Exploding trash bin free for 10,956 days

~~~

YEAH YEAH YEAH

~



I don't want to be in a band anymore.
I don't have the patience to put up with the guy who's in the band because he owns the PA system.
I also don't want to be the guy with the PA. Dear lord, no.
But my friends and I do enjoy coming up with names for bands.

Most recent name ideas:

*Krystal Matt and the Pre-Op Trannies

*The Horse You Rode In On

*?php if($about_to_rock = 1) {echo "We Salute You!";} ?

What, you think you can do better???




I am a little jealous of these guys





~

Torre Reform

~~~



"Don't worry about this one. If you miss it, we lose." -Caddyshack

"His job is on the line. I think we're paying him a lot of money.
He's the highest-paid manager in baseball, so I don't think we'd
take him back if we don't win this series." -George Steinbrenner 

Newsday / Paul J. Bereswill



When Joe Torre gets the official bitch slap that has been promised by his felon owner, the Yankees will have chucked into the dumpster a manager like no other. Sure, there are managers who make better decisions, think deeper into the game, and inspire players more, but not under conditions anything like New York. Joe Torre did more than any other manager working today could have. He worked with overpaid, spoiled, elderly athletes.

He worked under the public humiliation heaped-on by Steinbrenner. Only God and Billy Martin have any idea how the private conversations went - and they aren't talking; probably because they're fighting.

After winning the World Series four times, going into a dozen post seasons, and steering his team to an amazing comeback in the 2007 regular season, Joe Torre won't be spending much time in the unemployment line; that is, unless his taste for the game has been forever spoiled by the taste of money being jammed down his throat.

AP Photo/Kathy Willens



He'd make a fine Secretary of State. Think how different the world would
be with a baseball mind in that job, rather than a football fan. I'm hoping
he writes a book, or manages the D-Rays and spanks the Yankees
in 2008.

Whatever happens, Joe's life is about to get better.

October  8, 2007

	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9		R	H	E
Cleveland	2	2	0	2	0	0	0	0	0		6	13	0
NY Yankees	0	1	0	0	0	1	1	0	1		4	12	0

~~~