Bali to South Africa – Fall 2024

HELLLLLLLOOOOO out there. My day started as soon as it possibly could - at midnight. Watch Team 3, and I had the ever-elusive 12-4 watch. We were sailing with 5/6 sails after dropping the even more elusive fisherman sail that my team put up the prior morning at dinner. Always a joy to be sailing, but if I were some sort of sailing propagandist (which, at this point, if someone printed out every blog I'd ever written, they'd probably have enough evidence to point to it), I would instill a love of sailing in everyone onboard by making sure the engine-alternative is as loud as possible. We come up stoked!!! To still be sailing, although the briefing foretold a future where the wind would die out… but not yet. Kackie passed along a standing order from Tomer that we were to jibe when the True Wind Direction went below 90. They'd thought it would happen at the handover between our watch teams, so we'd have to double the people working - but a glance at the TWD and it still read 100. Off watch team 2 went to bed, and Ali and myself (also Allie) (known as big + old Allie for lack of confusion) filled in the rest of our watch team of the 20 minutes they missed of the new season of Outer Banks. It's a show that is objectively bad but shockingly addicting - think Emily in Paris, Sex and The City, and most things with Vince Vaughn. Anyway, our watch team has recently gotten hooked on watching Outer Banks before watch (and occasionally after) - maybe it's the treasure hunting, or maybe it's making fun of dialogue like "Do you guys ever go to the beach and feel your life just gets…..better?", but we squeeze in "just ten more minutes" in all hours of the day. After an hour-long dramatic retelling of 20 minutes of the best television you'll ever see, it was go time - TWD dropped to 89 - time to Jibe.

Will took the helm, and Philip, Ali, Ava, Ainsley, and I got to work sail handling. We struck the running backs, centerline the staysails, then centerline the Main as Will turned our stern through the wind. We were joined by special guest star Tomer! Ava and I struck the main preventor and re-ran it to the port side while Philip, Ali, and Ainsley took up the sheet and prepared to ease it back out on the other side. Then, Ainsley eased the main as Ava and I took up on the preventor and Philip, Ali, and Tomer passed the flying jib, before joining Ava and I on the preventor to get it as tight as possible. When I was a student, my best friend in the world (Emma Lingberg, still my best friend today) nicknamed the Main Sail Preventor the Jennifer Aniston line. As it is so hard to sweat/take up, we were convinced if we did it enough times, our arms would resemble Jennifer Aniston's. The jury's still out.

Once the Main was set, Ali, Philip, and I passed the jib to the other side while Ava and Tomer eased the Forward Staysail, and then we moved to re-ease the Main Staysail. Now that all of the sails were happily flying on the port side, we re-set the running backstays and handy-billed them to our heart's content (45 minutes of sweating and re-tying rolling hitches until they were tight). We glanced down at our watches and saw the time - 3:30. Time to wake the next watch team. (Don't worry we did do all of the hourly boat checks in between) (Multitasking at its finest). With only four students per watch team - our jibes don't always look the same as they do with all hands on deck, with all sails passing at once with great synchronicity. But the hours of 12 am - 4 am fly by, and each member of the team is constantly handling a new line or different sail. It rocks! We were so awake at the end of our watch that Ali pitched staying up to watch a little Outer Banks…. Ava and I were intrigued, but Philip told us we sounded insane, so we thought better of it. Anyway, jibing rocks — only slightly demoralizing to go back to bed and soon be woken by the sound of the engine going on and sails coming down, but we exist at the whim of the weather. Our last few watches have been dreamy - our watch before this one, we saw the sunrise. We were greeted by hundreds of dolphins jumping out of the water and playing in our wake by the bow, and then we got to put up the Fisherman sail and enjoy some of the best sailing on our trip so far and the best sailing possible on Argo!

We woke again for lunch - Ali had made everyone some Broccoli, Zucchini, and Chickpea Pasta, and we feasted! Tomorrow, we will arrive in South Africa at a port known as Richard's Bay - or, as we have dubbed it, Ricky Baker Bay. This, then, is our last night of offshore sailing for the trip - our last day of extended passage for the rest of our lives for some of us! I've waxed poetic about passage before (at least I've spent a lot of words trying to do so), and I could spend hours trying to think of the right words to capture it. I don't think it has hit me yet that I may be included in that group of people doing this for the last time. That said, I'm sure it won't be. This is a feeling you chase - an adventure that stays with you—South of Madagascar. Crossing the Aguhlas. No propeller. (Okay, now we have a propeller). There's no question about it - we're true sailors, and not even the crustiest old salt in the pub is going to argue against that. We'll round the Cape and have earned our stripes with the hardened and the brave. It's easy for passage to lull you into a false sense of security. Days slip into one another and then out of memory completely. Nothing seems notable through this lens - this is my life, this is every day - so it is rare for pen to meet paper and feel the need to capture these moments and the feelings that arise from them. But sooner rather than later, all of the students and I will leave this all behind. And then will we all realize how extraordinary this all is. Seeing no one else for days, weeks even. At the complete mercy of the wind. Awake at all hours of the night, retelling any number of useless miracles over dinner. `being the only audience to a pod of hundreds of dolphins. Whales breach while we clean our dishes at dinner and curse the chefs via the gopher, an ever-damned messenger. Small birds far from home. Large birds with no home in particular. One day, this will no longer be my home. And I will yearn for the memories of each day written off as monotonous at the time. Because once we leave here, we will never only have one place to call home again. Part of us will always be here - with these few people who understand exactly our experience. WE CROSSED THE INDIAN OCEAN!!

The chanting of Moritis by Morning made it so that Mauritius had no chance of ever sneaking up on us. Richard's Bay and its comparatively short passage of 9 days did. We blast Africa by Toto and Waka Waka by Shakira and South Africa's own Johnny Clegg every time we enter a new time zone. I love South Africa - and look forward to the days ahead - of safari and braai, rugby, hiking, exploring, saying lekker with the best of them. But I think everyone would agree that our arrival is bittersweet. The end of this passage marks the beginning of a lot of "lasts." The chorus of groans and boos that rings out whenever someone mentions how few days are left. We will cherish this time together—our last and the future firsts that they will surely inspire. A sort of gateway drug to a life lived in the present. To building community wherever you wander. To pushing yourself to expand your comfort zone and reaping all of its rewards. But for now, we plan our first South African adventure - heading to the half fish market and half ice cream store - which, in my opinion, is Richard's Bay's most unique tourist attraction.

All my love to all of those still reading.