During the sail between Uruguay and Brazil we decided it was time for a short story competition. The topic was a memorable moment onboard and the boys had two days to write their stories.
The winner was the story called Avalanche written by Zach, an American who enjoyed pushing his own limits. He joined us in New Zealand without any sailing experience and stayed on all the way to Brazil.
AVALANCHE
There were nine animals in the show plus The Trainer. There was a cheeky meerkat, a humorous orangutan, a mangy honey badger, an old toothless bear, a boastful mockingbird, a cowardly lizard, a stray dog, a clumsy cockatoo, and The Trainer’s favorite (and star of the show) a rare Northern Gazelle of exceptional beauty and intellect. Each animal had its own little part, and each knew pretty precisely what was expected; though they were all animals at the end of the day with the same onerous needs and occasional dangers. All who beheld the spectacle of The Trainer and his animals were awed and none left without the kind of rich story that makes one’s friends suspicious with envy. Though spectators all were amazed, only veterans of such a circus can understand the miracle that was the Alpha Kilo Traveling Show of Wonder-Beasts.
Tonight’s performance was to be an improv. The train had climbed mountains before, but none like these. These mountains were steep and treacherous, the track was bent in spots and threatened derailment, the snow had built up in heaps and mounds and loomed ominously. And though the weather was clear, the wind was up. Whether by simple fortune or divine providence, The Trainer was in the middle of practicing routine with some of the animals when calamity struck. An avalanche came roaring down a particularly treacherous peak and slammed into the train with an incredible thunderous crash! The train jumped off the rails and began sliding down the mountain, enveloped in a furious whirling of ice and snow.
The orangutan had been in the middle of his act when it happened, and lay listless in the snow near the train at the bottom of the mountain. The cockatoo also had taken quite a shock and lay flopping. Even the dog, unusually sure-footed in the snow from years of wandering stray, was having difficulties gathering his footing and wits. The old bear lay moaning on a flat-car (though that was not unusual). The lizard peaked timidly out from a boxcar. The other animals lay about the train, still in their cages. But Lo! The Trainer quickly gathered his stricken beasts and set about righting the train, which had slid to a stop next to another Eastern track, bound for the same direction but hailing from a different pass.
The gazelle, quick in wit, resumed routine where the orangutan had left off – much to the relief of the other animals who liked routine and didn’t like changes. A bit of prying and leverage mixed with some elbow grease from The Trainer and, unbelievably, the train was back on a track! The Trainer calmed the animals, tended the minor injuries sustained by the orangutan and the bear, and the train was off once again. All of the animals had somewhere in their simple, primal minds a sense of calm belonging that hadn’t been there before. The Trainer was there, and the show must go on! And go on it did.
The second story was written by Tibo, who was our first crew member to join in New Zealand. Being French, our oldest hand soon decided he was the only one to be in the galley and became chef from there on..
My most beautiful neoprene hoodie set up on my bald head,
Close encounter of the third kind was written by George from Czech Republic. George is a professional photographer and a mountaineer, he joined us in New Zealand a couple of weeks before we sat sail to South America.
Close encounter of the third kind
The last story was written by Nico from Argentina. He joined us in Punta del Este, Uruguay.
The winner was the story called Avalanche written by Zach, an American who enjoyed pushing his own limits. He joined us in New Zealand without any sailing experience and stayed on all the way to Brazil.
AVALANCHE
There were nine animals in the show plus The Trainer. There was a cheeky meerkat, a humorous orangutan, a mangy honey badger, an old toothless bear, a boastful mockingbird, a cowardly lizard, a stray dog, a clumsy cockatoo, and The Trainer’s favorite (and star of the show) a rare Northern Gazelle of exceptional beauty and intellect. Each animal had its own little part, and each knew pretty precisely what was expected; though they were all animals at the end of the day with the same onerous needs and occasional dangers. All who beheld the spectacle of The Trainer and his animals were awed and none left without the kind of rich story that makes one’s friends suspicious with envy. Though spectators all were amazed, only veterans of such a circus can understand the miracle that was the Alpha Kilo Traveling Show of Wonder-Beasts.
Tonight’s performance was to be an improv. The train had climbed mountains before, but none like these. These mountains were steep and treacherous, the track was bent in spots and threatened derailment, the snow had built up in heaps and mounds and loomed ominously. And though the weather was clear, the wind was up. Whether by simple fortune or divine providence, The Trainer was in the middle of practicing routine with some of the animals when calamity struck. An avalanche came roaring down a particularly treacherous peak and slammed into the train with an incredible thunderous crash! The train jumped off the rails and began sliding down the mountain, enveloped in a furious whirling of ice and snow.
The orangutan had been in the middle of his act when it happened, and lay listless in the snow near the train at the bottom of the mountain. The cockatoo also had taken quite a shock and lay flopping. Even the dog, unusually sure-footed in the snow from years of wandering stray, was having difficulties gathering his footing and wits. The old bear lay moaning on a flat-car (though that was not unusual). The lizard peaked timidly out from a boxcar. The other animals lay about the train, still in their cages. But Lo! The Trainer quickly gathered his stricken beasts and set about righting the train, which had slid to a stop next to another Eastern track, bound for the same direction but hailing from a different pass.
The gazelle, quick in wit, resumed routine where the orangutan had left off – much to the relief of the other animals who liked routine and didn’t like changes. A bit of prying and leverage mixed with some elbow grease from The Trainer and, unbelievably, the train was back on a track! The Trainer calmed the animals, tended the minor injuries sustained by the orangutan and the bear, and the train was off once again. All of the animals had somewhere in their simple, primal minds a sense of calm belonging that hadn’t been there before. The Trainer was there, and the show must go on! And go on it did.
The second story was written by Tibo, who was our first crew member to join in New Zealand. Being French, our oldest hand soon decided he was the only one to be in the galley and became chef from there on..
green kitchen gloves to enhance the rich red tone of my sailing jacket I feel ready for another watch in the Drake. Out from the hatch I hear George shouting me to clip on, and shortly after dutifully doing so I end up in the cockpit, grinning at the captain's camera. Seas are thick, foamy, packed with reasonably high and cresty waves taking the boat up and down, wind gives exhilarating blows in the sails, in a word interesting though demanding steering conditions to come.
Clipping next to the helm I'm about to take over from George when I suddenly take a glimpse of a green behemoth coming on our port side stern. The wave is huge, and almost on us ; forgetting about any watch duty I frantically look for the closest reliable holding point, finding nothing better than the stern railing. That should do, but I'm not sure I'll be able to keep the grip for I have no vertical hold ; anyway the colossus is about to strike. And so does it, rolling the boat on her side like a cork tipped over by a moody child, and for a second I think I'll be able to hang on. It was before the liquid coat pours its powerful arms all around me, and I soon realize there's no point struggling, I'll be taken. For two seconds or so I feel water all around me, much warmer than I expected, a surprising pain in the left leg, an overwhelming though not unpleasant sense of absolute spatial landmarks loss, and out of reflex I start to swim.
Soon after I realize despite wet I'm not drenched, and my movements aren't totally free. The explanation is simple : my harness is entangled in the now ripped apart radar's reefing point, miraculously still tying me to the boat. Another red strap is coming from this strange knot, following it with my eyes I end up realizing next to me is George, stunned but also lying on the transom. I scream him not to move, he doesn't seem to react. Then looking a bit upper I see Alex, looking at us in a mostly amused fashion, and Issa a little bit startled on the background, but very soon jumping behind the wheel. In the meanwhile Alex fishes Papo (on starboard side), me between the railing and eventually George whose leg seems to bring him back to a (painful) state of consciousness. Groggy for a few minutes I watch Alex cutting the radar free, and I can't do much more than pulling back on the deck sheets dragging in the water. I eventually manage to clutch to the front hatch to help getting Theresa downstairs despite herself, then George, and I end up behind the helm with Alex, already trying to recollect second by second this episode of our odyssey that will be engraved as the Drake swim...never to be forgotten !
Close encounter of the third kind was written by George from Czech Republic. George is a professional photographer and a mountaineer, he joined us in New Zealand a couple of weeks before we sat sail to South America.
Close encounter of the third kind
Southern Ocean. January 2012. Friday about tea time. It had started like any other our watch. It was raining, fog, visibility something around 200 metres. We were doing about 9 knots with the main and the jib up. We changed with Italian guy called Papo at the helm every 15 minutes and German blind mother named Theresa was „watching“.
Papo was steering when he saw first piece of ice in the water. About 30 cm right next to the boat. A while after that, we saw another piece and we realized that that was not a coincidence and that somewhere in our neighbourhood had to be an iceberg. OK we couldn’t rely on Theresa so one of us was steering and the other one was watching at the bow and we still kept changing every 15 minutes. We started to meet bigger pieces around 2-5 metres and more often and few times had to do evasive manoeuvre. Communication worked though. Just one drawback, “no one” was watching when we were swapping places with Papo.
The end of our three-hour watch was here, finally. I was just explaining to Tibo and Alejo where we had been sitting and watching from when Alex shouted from the cockpit “And what about that one?” and was pointing out in front of him. I couldn’t believe my own eyes. A huge iceberg loomed up in the mist right in front of us. Estimated 150 metres wide and we were heading straight in the middle of it! And not very slowly. Alex swerved port side so that we could see the beauty to our starboard. Unreal sight. Gorgeous, light blue killer. It would’ve probably sunk us effortlessly.
One could hardly thing of such things though. We had to work, taking down the main took us another hour. The iceberg was already gone and I went to my bunk after tiring 4 hours with mixed feelings. It’s hard to describe it but one can barely experience something so dangerous and so beautiful at the same time. I will never forget that quickly approaching, from the fog appearing silhouette.
Our first encounter. By far not the last one though...
The last story was written by Nico from Argentina. He joined us in Punta del Este, Uruguay.
After a couple of crazy of days preparing everything in Buenos Aires I could catch a flight to Punta del Este , where I was about to get aboard the sailboat that was going to take me to cross the Atlantic Ocean.
I arrived to the marine and from the land I saw the boat with the tallest mast in the whole marina. When I got to the boat I should it and I did not received reply at all, so I decide to call Alex (The captain of the Boat). He picks me up with the boat’s tender and took me to it. In the boat I ask if the crew where still awake. I knew that this guys were not Latin , they have dinner early and go to bed early, so I imagine may be there where all asleep. Alex told me that there where awake and waiting.
When I arrived to the hatch I could see from above one guy sited at the dinette table totally naked. At first time and automatically I didn’t understand to much why a guy was fully naked sit it at the table.
I dare to step down and into the boat, and as a surprise I realized that not only this guy was totally naked at the table, the other two guys where naked to. At that point and without a minute to understand the situation the first naked guy stood up, poor me a glass of wine shuck my hand and told me “…welcome…”
After a couple of seconds I start to think the situation, a lot of thoughts came trhu my mind. From the worst ones, like: I am going up to a nudist boat fully with sex maniacs that will try to rape me the first night. To anothers not so bad like: It is an unusual northern sailing tradition to receive the new crew members naked, may be they were all just hippies and like to be naked or they were playing naked poker wasted between them. The last thought was that they were only playing a prank to me, to see how I react. Finally I saw Alex laughing and all the rest the same so I knew it that they were just playing with me (as they were).
The night continue with wine, cheers and Stories about the trips. For sure I will never forget how I met this bunch of criminals.
Alex handing a certificate for winning the short story competition!
I arrived to the marine and from the land I saw the boat with the tallest mast in the whole marina. When I got to the boat I should it and I did not received reply at all, so I decide to call Alex (The captain of the Boat). He picks me up with the boat’s tender and took me to it. In the boat I ask if the crew where still awake. I knew that this guys were not Latin , they have dinner early and go to bed early, so I imagine may be there where all asleep. Alex told me that there where awake and waiting.
When I arrived to the hatch I could see from above one guy sited at the dinette table totally naked. At first time and automatically I didn’t understand to much why a guy was fully naked sit it at the table.
I dare to step down and into the boat, and as a surprise I realized that not only this guy was totally naked at the table, the other two guys where naked to. At that point and without a minute to understand the situation the first naked guy stood up, poor me a glass of wine shuck my hand and told me “…welcome…”
After a couple of seconds I start to think the situation, a lot of thoughts came trhu my mind. From the worst ones, like: I am going up to a nudist boat fully with sex maniacs that will try to rape me the first night. To anothers not so bad like: It is an unusual northern sailing tradition to receive the new crew members naked, may be they were all just hippies and like to be naked or they were playing naked poker wasted between them. The last thought was that they were only playing a prank to me, to see how I react. Finally I saw Alex laughing and all the rest the same so I knew it that they were just playing with me (as they were).
The night continue with wine, cheers and Stories about the trips. For sure I will never forget how I met this bunch of criminals.
Alex handing a certificate for winning the short story competition!
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