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October 30th:

In nautical terms, taking your departure has to do with recording the ship’s last position before making for the vast watery wastes of the open ocean. For the good ship Seaburban and me, it just meant getting off the dock.

After delays, injuries, last-minute gear, and groceries, departure finally loomed Oct 27. About 3 weeks behind schedule and winter gales threatening, it was now or never.
Scrambling around the boat frantically stowing, the weather looked too good to be true. Good omens abounded, including a visit from Glen Wakefield, so My wife Nani and I said our last goodbyes and I shove off.

As I write now, it’s hard to imagine how quick the miles have slid beneath the keel. It has been all boat jobs all day getting Seaburban ship-shape. Fenders deflated and into the forepeak. Drogue rodes into their deployment bags and into the cockpit lockers. Drogues sorted in order of potential use. Chasing down all the hundreds of noises coming from the lockers that make the inside of the boat sound like a war zone. I swear there are more creaks and groans than stores themselves.

The worst of the noises are the unfamiliar. Last night I was convinced the cables had jumped the quadrant and torn through the autopilot warning harness. Luckily, not true: simply a flashlight rolling around a plastic storage bin. This morning, the batteries were coming adrift. Not true: A block banging on the deck whenever a wave came aboard was the culprit. What has alluded me so far, however, is the artillery barrage coming from the upper fuel tank. No idea on that yet but it’s interfering with the zen of a sailboat gliding over peaceful seas.

It’s been lazy sailing so far. With another 6 months ahead of me at least let’s just say I’m pacing myself.

Follow my tracks in real-time:

  • Claude
    Posted at 20:39h, 29 March Reply

    In weather like today having a fellow partner would make the difference of the world.

    Heavy weather conditions are great only when you have enough energy to enjoy it. I wish you the time of your life.

  • Tony Yanca
    Posted at 02:58h, 06 April Reply

    Hi Bert, I came across your voyage on looking for more positive and up-beat news in the world today. As we continue to try to isolate ourselves looking to conquer this extremely serious virus, you’re essentially isolated fighting the elements of Ocean Blue. I’m a surfer in Southern California and I’m always intrigued by extremely passionate individuals who take on these adventures, especially when it involves the ocean. I’m currently listening to some Reggae and enjoying a Pale Ale from our local brewery 🙂 Our Family is healthy and I’ll be working from home tomorrow, but will continue to follow your voyage rooting you on the whole way through. I wish you safe passage and pray that you will utilize all that you’ve learned to help you endure the many obstacles that come your way. You will make complete this voyage and I look forward to your future posts. Take care of yourself.


  • John T.Rice
    Posted at 04:06h, 06 April Reply

    Be safe..pulling for you!

  • Susan Conway Gray
    Posted at 05:56h, 06 April Reply

    What an incredible journey you have set up for yourself!
    I find your reflection on the coronavirus to be incredibly insightful.
    Self isolation as a time to reflect on what we want to become, what legacy we choose to leave behind.
    To many that level of self introspection will appear daunting and even impossible.
    To truly examine our minds, behaviors, and motivations while holding them into the light through the prism of our souls is an exercise most would not have the courage to do.
    But I hope some will take up that challenge.
    Good luck to you!

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