Current Update

If you have to go against it, the East Australian current is a bitch.
After 5 months waiting out cyclone season in Sydney I’ve now
sailed back up to Coffs Harbour.
On the way (and around midnight of course) the current was so
strong it turned the boat around 180 degrees to face the direction
we were coming from.
Intense squalls of wind and rain had us under shortened sails
and with the engine near full throttle we pushed against the
current at a slow walking speed for 24 hours. ( 2kts for sailors
who are reading this.) I began to think Thali, my new Argentinian
crew, would quit once we got to Coffs (and I wouldn’t be far
behind her.) Fortunately Thali is a para glider pilot, cool under
pressure, and resilient, because she is still committed to this
adventure. Going with the current from Brisbane down to
Sydney last year the speeds had been astonishing, although that
passage was also not without its challenges. It had been a long
voyage from Tahiti, the boat was in need of repair and I was too.
So I was very grateful when my friend, Steve Jackson, took me into
his family, and his home, for some much needed rest and relaxation.
Steve has an apartment with views of Sydney harbor on two
sides and we celebrated new Years Eve there watching the fireworks
along with Mathilde, who had crewed with me from
Tahiti to Fiji, and my friend Adam, who I’d met in Jamacia.
Adam had now sailed his own boat, a Contessa 26, from Quebec
to Australia, singlehanded. Once my boat and I were in better
shape the plan then was to sail down to Tasmania.
I worked very hard on the to-do-list because the passage
to Tasmania is not to be taken lightly. It entails crossing
the treacherous Bass Strait in what’s termed as
“The Roaring Forties” being on the 40 th parallel of latitude.
Here the westerly winds of the Great Southern Ocean build the
waves as they circle the globe unimpeded except by the three
great capes. The Cape of Good Hope off south Africa,
Cape Leeuwin off South Western Australia, and the infamous
Cape Horn at the bottom of South America. Ah, and then there

is little Tasmania still joined to Australia by the continental shelf
in Bass strait where the shallow depth and wind can heap the
waves up until they break.
As the boat was repaired and upgraded though ( including the
addition of mini Starlink -yes I can now watch movies in the middle
of an ocean, and more importantly get instant weather forecasts)
day by day I began to feel myself getting better too, so when Thali
signed on for the voyage I was ready to go – or I thought I was.
At 1.00am on Thali’s second day onboard, while thankfully still
in the marina I started to pass a kidney stone and spent the next
12 hours in the ER. On discharge with the stone unpassed I was
advised not to be far from a hospital for the next 3 weeks.
Thali left for a while to go para- gliding and as I waited I watched
what had been a very narrow weather window to get to Tasmania
disappear completely. So we are heading North now. To exactly
where I’m not sure but toward the top of Australia is the plan,
despite the tough journey so far up to Coffs. There are times on
a passage like that when you quietly question why you are doing
this. On reaching Coffs Harbor I received this WhatsApp message
from Cammi Li, a new friend I’ve made in Sydney. I’m sharing it
for everyone out there on an ocean somewhere.

From Cammi Li:
I think I finally understand why you love sailing so much now.
Because for you, sailing is not just something you do – it is a state
of being, a way of facing life itself.
The day you left, it was raining, and your leg was still hurting.
I wondered whether you might delay the departure. But then
I watched your little boat slowly and steadily heading out into the
ocean anyway.

Thalia once said that true sailing is not always sunshine and calm
seas – it is about facing wind, rain, uncertainty and the unknown.
Later, when I watched the tracker, all I could see was the endless
ocean and wind, and your tiny boat moving steadily forward
little by little through it all. That deeply touched me.
I suddenly understood that some journeys ultimately have to be
walked alone.

Even with attachment, loneliness, fear, and danger, we still have no
choice but to continue forward.

These days I kept thinking about you both, yet I didn’t dare interrupt

you with messages because I didn’t want to distract you. The only
thing I could do was quietly watch, quietly care, and in my heart travel
with you.

Life is very much like the ocean.
There are storms, darkness, moments where we lose direction and
courage. But even then your heart keeps moving steadily toward the
course you have chosen.

Watching you sail has given me a lot of courage to face my own life
difficulties with more calmness and strength.
You once said that some of the deepest impacts happen in places you
cannot see. I think you have already done that.
And now I understand why you love ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ so much.
“A man can be destroyed but not defeated.”

No matter what lies ahead, no matter the condition of the body or life
itself, still choosing to set sail.