November 2, 1980

We have been remarkably lucky in so many ways. This was a very special day for us 30 years ago, but means so very much more to us now. Maybe because we keep on changing the venue and the adventures we enjoy together, our recipe for matrimony has, thus far, been a success.

We even have many of the people who were a part of our wedding still part our lives.

This year we have started yet a new adventure. New Zealand has granted us “residency” (like Green Card holders in the USA). This will allow us to travel, work and live in either or both of these wonderful countries -- which we will continue to do.

Whilst in New Zealand, we will still live aboard “GRACE” and she will keep on taking us cruising to beautiful locales.

Sally has been doing more writing and is enjoying participating in the local culinary scene. There is nothing like changing your career every 10 years or so to keep things fresh.

This season, we have acquired a small racing dinghy called a “Flying Fifteen”. If all goes well, we will soon begin to race her in the local New Zealand fleet regattas. This is a bit like going back to Geoff’s childhood days of sailing a “Beetle Cat” on Cape Cod. The name our new boat comes with is “September Song” – perhaps apt given our ages!

PIG TALES:

Readers will remember how vital pigs are to the culture and economy of Vanuatu. (Payments of bride price, rank promotions, and general wealth). We also saw them running wild throughout French Polynesia, and rooting through the surf at low tide on Niuetoputapu, Tonga. During the course of our sojourn to the Pacific Northwest of the USA, we have learned that here too, a pig can equate with the ultimate in hospitality.

Opting to avoid the southern hemisphere winter, we flew back to the USA. s/v GRACE is happily resting in the water on the pilings in Whangerei, NZ. After spending some time with family on the East Coast, we are now back in our house on Bainbridge Island, doing much-needed maintenance.

E-mails arrived from several different friends: sailing up towards Indonesia, anchored in Santorini, Greece, and reaching the mainland of the US after a circumnavigation. Just when we started to miss the many and widely dispersed friends we have made at sea, the kevlar-like line which connects us to fellow cruisers was strongly yanked. American cruisers, whom we met whilst sweltering in Fiji, recently invited us join in a celebration in the Cascade Mountains.

Since we first moved here in 2004, we have had hardly any time for local sightseeing. The Pacific Northwest, when it is not raining and the skies are not gray, can be amongst the most glorious places on Earth. We set off early Saturday morning, took the ferry to Seattle and then drove into the Cascade Mountains. Despite previous weeks of utterly crappy weather, as we set off the sun made an appearance – highlighting what a special day it was to be.

Although we arrived quite early a huge pig was already skewered (on a stainless steel propeller shaft), attached with hose clamps, weighted with anchor chain, and slowly being spun (using a bicycle wheel) by one of the young guests over hot wood chunks in a bathtub. While appearing to be a “Rube Goldberg,” this home-made system really worked well. Nothing beats a sailor’s ingenuity. Hour after hour, different people took turns slowing rotating the pig while he glistened in the heat. Why does "participatory food" taste so much better than pre-made or "autocratic" food?

There was no brining or special spice needed to flavor this pork. As the wheel turned, the pig’s own fat melted into rivulets and basted the flesh beneath. With his ears pinned back, his tail erect, and his teeth showing a permanent smile, the pig transformed over the next 5 hours from pink flesh to glossy meat, encapsulated by crispy, crackling, caramelized skin.

We are not vegetarians, although have tremendous respect for those who are. Most of the time, living in the western world, we don’t see the faces of the food we consume on a daily basis because, when we get it, it is sealed in cellophane and plastic. But meat still comes from the same animals as the one we ate on this beautiful day. Perhaps there is a difference in that we were able to look this particular hog in the eye, and, in our own way, thank it for its sacrifice on our behalf. When you can stare at the face of your food, you are bound to appreciate it more.

The sense of community, of togetherness, family, of being bound to nature in such a spectacular setting was invigorating.

The occasions for the celebration were a graduation and an anniversary. Clearly a powerful excuse to have friends and family travel from far away to share. Everyone helped to cook the pig. People brought food, flowers, drink, children and dogs.

The beauty of the locale led to hikes through the forest to a raging river, rock climbing, tractor riding (and repair), telescope viewing, target practice with both bows and arrows and BB guns, croquet and even practice in fly casting.

There was a special “tent” set up surrounding a seat over a hole in the meadow for life’s occasional necessities. Every detail was considered, yet none seemed contrived. The two of us slept snuggled in sleeping bags in the back of our car, awoke to the mists climbing up the mountainsides, replete from having had one of the nicest 24 hours in a long time.

Leaving the pig and its remains, we headed east past towns with odd names like: Wenatchee and Index, Twisp, Concrete and Startup. One, a replica of a Gemütlichkeit Bavarian town, another, just like a mining town in the old West. We followed the dry shores of the Columbia River and into the North Cascades Park. We ascended to more than 5,000 ft above sea level. Glacier-dug turquoise lakes dotted the ravines between the steep peaks. As we crossed back towards the West, the skies socked-in again reminding us that the weather patterns on land must be studied in detail – just like at sea.

Back to the pig. Some might tell you that eating meat is cruel. Doctors might comment on the cholesterol content of pork. But neither doctor nor philosopher can denigrate the profound sense of welcome, belonging, and being a part of something special that this pig roast was for the two of us. Geoff stated that he “would not have missed this particular experience for anything.”

So, even though we are not always at sea, we continue to live life to the fullest and savor each opportunity to have yet another adventure.

Thank you -- pig -- for being the symbol of our pleasure on this occasion. (and to Brenda and Dan for including us).

TRAVELING IN A FAIRY TALE
(Who would have thought we’d turn into birdwatchers?)








The last several months we have crossed the Pacific a couple of times by air, lived on land and at sea -- been though yet another tsunami alert and visited family and friends.

We are finding that we need bits of autonomy and of community -- although the preferred mix of these is different between the two of us and varies from one week to the next.

While we were in the US, we visited with family on the east and west coasts. That was wonderful -- It was important for us to visit with those we love and miss.

Back in New Zealand again, we decided to do some coastal cruising this season. The beauty of this lifestyle continues to be that one can reach places not so easily accessible by land.Surprisingly, the Hauraki Gulf falls into the less accessible category. Although near Auckland, the Gulf Islands require a boat and some effort to reach.

Many of the Gulf Islands are part of a marine park established by the NZ government 10 years ago, and are relatively protected from people and animal pests. This means that islands are usually not crowded and the home to some interesting wildlife.

As we sailed between Islands, we passed through sheets of floating Shearwater who all took off in flight at once to avoid us. Sailing along and discovering you are sharing the same waters as very tiny blue penguins in the wild is a truly extraordinary and memorable experience. (as cute as they are, these penguins are very cagey and do not like to sit still for a proper photo -- we tried our best).

On Great Barrier Island, GRACE was claimed by a pair of endangered brown teals fighting off others for our attention (and breadcrumbs).

We feasted on cockles that we dug up ourselves, meticulously brushed clean, and cooked in a garlicky wine broth. Oh well, so if one of us got a bad one, perhaps the night of discomfort was worth it for the hours of pleasure we had in finding and gathering our own food.

In these islands, certain populations of birds are down to the “last 2500 in existence” and we were privileged to see at least a few of various species.

We awoke at anchor to hear bird operettas – each species with its own little aria.

We shared walks with Pukekos, rare flightless Takakes, Putangitangis, Wekas, Kakas, Kakarikis, Shags, Australasian Gannets, Pied Stilts, Saddlebacks, Tuis, and so many more – the names of the birds as evocative as the music that many made.

We hiked the green leafy canopy on island hills surrounded by Jurassic-like tree ferns or ancient
kauri trees. In the evening, we would hear the crackling of shrimp on GRACE's hull, or the flapping of fish as they jumped to the surface to escape bigger predators below.

From the craggy, barren rocks sticking out of the ocean, to mellow green hills with sheep dotting the nooks and crannies, to enormous fallen trees with root balls full of places for elves to hide, New Zealand continues to delight us.

We don’t know the names of many of the animals, plants and flowers we have seen, but we certainly have enjoyed them -- continuing to marvel at Mother Nature's sense of humor. Traveling in New Zealand, whether by land or by sea, is like voyaging in a Fairy Tale.