March 20th, 2006, Puerto Montt, Chile
Waking up on a bus is a terrifying experience because you are NEVER in the same place you went to sleep in and that feeling of discontinuity is enormous. However as hardened travelers we had become accustomed to such displacement. When i awoke and saw a sign outside my window that said quite plainly "Welcome to Puerto Montt" I felt a bit harried as a began to rouse Jojo and gather my things. Indeed it was a short while later we pulled up in our last stop on that route, the terminal we had been awaiting for days.
We exited the bus, refreshed ourselves as best we could in the terminal bano and proceeded to inquire how to catch a local bus to Marina Del Sur. Deborah had given me instructions and they turned out to be very accurate and precise. "Catch a bus to the Stadium, across the street from the terminal" we did. We were let off at the stadium and it was only a hundred foot walk to the entrance to Marina Del Sur.
We had finally arrived and both of us felt the excitement and eagerness to begin this most unknown, and to me, anticipated, part of our adventure. The air was cool and clear, heavy with the moisture from the sea and soft fuzzy clouds lingering on land. Smells from the ocean we hadn't enjoyed since Oregon permeated our bodies, and clothes. As we walked down the sloping gravel road into the marina a large raptor glided silently directly over our heads, running the ridge and the warming morning terrestrial air. An omen of good fortune and cerebral awakening. We arrived at the gate house, and passed into the marina.
Northern Light sate abeam to the entry as we walked down towards the marina office. Her red paint gleaming in the morning sun. With each step the excitement and curiosity grew in my chest, filling me with anticipation, with questions, with wonder. What would it be like on the boat? How would I handle sailing? How would it be with Deborah and Rolf, my most distant and possibly least well know family members, but for whom I knew I shared many ideas, thoughts, and dreams. What would we see? Would Jojo be able to handle the confines and the sea? It was all about to be answered and I felt like a kid on his first day of school, all unknowns, and all excitement.
As we creaked and clunked our way down the long ramp attached to the floating docks Northern Light came into greater focus, her web of rigging, her masts and deck by far the most complex and intricate in the marina. She looked wider and more robust in proportion to the boats around her, including the immense and beautiful 100 foot plus yacht across the dock from her berth. We got to the bottom of the ramp and turned right towards N.L. and as we approached Rolf appeared on deck. I didn't feel like yelling out "Hallooo!" from a distance was right for that beautiful morning stillness and peacefulness, so we waited and approached. Rolf stepped over the railing on the boat and onto the dock and turned to face us. We were within greeting distance - and with the patience pulling tight over the bubble of anticipation that had been building ever since I clicked the mouse in Portland to purchase the plane tickets to Bolivia - I said "Hello Rolf."
With those simple words a cascade of events and emotions began. "Oh hello! Yes, great!" Rolf replied back. He was instantly thinking as soon as he saw us. The greeting and planning all at once. We would find out later that it could take us two days to clear the red tape and begin sailing, and Rolf's mind is that of a true sea Captain, and with our arrival, early in the morning, the process could begin. Rolf welcomed us aboard with hugs and thoughts of logistics and planning, process and delight. He welcomed us into his home, his livelihood, his life and his dream. Northern Light is all of that and more to both Deborah and Rolf. It is the escape hatch with which they have created a life of their own design, outside the fervor and insanity of what most people consider civilization. They are nomads and hermits, messengers and prophets. They live a lifestyle different from anyone else in the world, and they have learned more about living through their alternative mode of living than it is possible to learn with your senses continuously assaulted by the life most people live. The life we call civilized.
Deborah appeared in the cupola (the clear dome at the top of the ladder to below decks) her wild curly hair filling the dome, and setting off her face which was smiling in surprise, and mirroring the same excitement and anticipation felt by Jojo and myself. Deborah came out onto the deck and greeted us with enthusiasm bereft of embarrassment that so many people feel about expressing their emotions. Deborah is an amazing and wonderfully loving person. She is unique in her perspective(s) and as many other ways as I could think. She is my mother's sister, and is bursting with excitement and passion. She is six feet tall, strong, and sure of herself, and has followed her dreams as much as anyone could ever hope to.
We were greeted as family, and as friends. A combination that would prove to be true over the next three weeks, and I am sure, for as long as we all live. Deborah and Rolf helped Jojo and I bring our gear below, and into the aft cabin where we would be sleeping. This is usually where Deborah and Rolf sleep but due to the realities of boat life they had decided to sleep in the main cabin where the sea berths go during their sailing, and where the dining table is during the day. This was a logistical choice as they are constantly on watch for the conditions of the boat and the weather, and need to be able to get to the controls and nav. desk quickly. It was also a very hospitable choice, and Jojo and I were very comfortable for the entire time on board, tucked away into the aft cabin, on the most comfortable bed (perhaps aside from our one night of luxury) I've enjoyed in South America. Thank you again to the hosts on Northern Light.
Once we were settled and changed the four of us walked the two miles into Puerto Montt's center to visit the Armada, which is what Chile calls their maritime authority. It is managed, like much of Chile, by the government. I'll leave it up to you to decide why this is, but I think it is a holdover from the past military government of Pinoche. Rolf was expecting to submit our paperwork and then have to wait a day or two until it was approved. To our mutual delight this was not the case and after about 45 miuntes we had our zarpa, which is an official document charting and allowing our passage in specific waters in Chile. Jojo's and my names were added to the crew list and just like that we were free to go.
But before we could depart we had to stock up on our supplies, for the three weeks we were allotting ourselves. We bought some barley flower from a wholesaler, ate lunch, and decided to spend the next day at Jumbo, a mega-super-market in town. We began our walk back to the boat, but decided to stop into in internet cafe for information, and coffee. I felt a pain in my abdomen. I rushed to the bano and began 3 days of sickness of the gastrointestinal type, common to travelers in foreign countries. I will not go into detail on this, but for the next three days I was not myself. I was forced to linger near banos and became fairly dehydrated. It appeared that this portion of our trip was to begin with similar challenges as our bus portion (remember that traffic jam that nearly made us miss our bus way back in La Paz? I still do.) Jojo was feeling the same way, but her symptoms had begun the day before. Perhaps we were contaminated at the same time, and her metabolism is just that much faster, but I think we'll never know.
We made it back to the boat no problem, and relaxed, settled in, and ate dinner. The Marina office building is very well equipped with excellent hot showers, clean facilities, and wireless internet. I can't say I slept all that well that night, because I had to run up the dock and ramp to the bano a couple of times, but at least we were there, and I as as happy and excited as a sick boy can be. And in reality, waking up and walking out on the dock in that still night air all alone gave me a glimpse of the peace and beauty I would be experiencing over the weeks of sailing that were now here.
I think you, my friends and family, will realize over the next three weeks of passages, that the life Deborah and Rolf have made for themselves is different, less comfortable (to the mind of a land dweller), and more challenging. It is also more honest, more real, and more beautiful than any life you can live in the 'civilized world.' Of course nothing I am saying here is new. It's been written and re-written over and over by great thinkers, and far far better writers than I. But this is my experience of a glimpse of a life far more true, and far more beautiful, than most people even dream.
We exited the bus, refreshed ourselves as best we could in the terminal bano and proceeded to inquire how to catch a local bus to Marina Del Sur. Deborah had given me instructions and they turned out to be very accurate and precise. "Catch a bus to the Stadium, across the street from the terminal" we did. We were let off at the stadium and it was only a hundred foot walk to the entrance to Marina Del Sur.
We had finally arrived and both of us felt the excitement and eagerness to begin this most unknown, and to me, anticipated, part of our adventure. The air was cool and clear, heavy with the moisture from the sea and soft fuzzy clouds lingering on land. Smells from the ocean we hadn't enjoyed since Oregon permeated our bodies, and clothes. As we walked down the sloping gravel road into the marina a large raptor glided silently directly over our heads, running the ridge and the warming morning terrestrial air. An omen of good fortune and cerebral awakening. We arrived at the gate house, and passed into the marina.
Northern Light sate abeam to the entry as we walked down towards the marina office. Her red paint gleaming in the morning sun. With each step the excitement and curiosity grew in my chest, filling me with anticipation, with questions, with wonder. What would it be like on the boat? How would I handle sailing? How would it be with Deborah and Rolf, my most distant and possibly least well know family members, but for whom I knew I shared many ideas, thoughts, and dreams. What would we see? Would Jojo be able to handle the confines and the sea? It was all about to be answered and I felt like a kid on his first day of school, all unknowns, and all excitement.
As we creaked and clunked our way down the long ramp attached to the floating docks Northern Light came into greater focus, her web of rigging, her masts and deck by far the most complex and intricate in the marina. She looked wider and more robust in proportion to the boats around her, including the immense and beautiful 100 foot plus yacht across the dock from her berth. We got to the bottom of the ramp and turned right towards N.L. and as we approached Rolf appeared on deck. I didn't feel like yelling out "Hallooo!" from a distance was right for that beautiful morning stillness and peacefulness, so we waited and approached. Rolf stepped over the railing on the boat and onto the dock and turned to face us. We were within greeting distance - and with the patience pulling tight over the bubble of anticipation that had been building ever since I clicked the mouse in Portland to purchase the plane tickets to Bolivia - I said "Hello Rolf."
With those simple words a cascade of events and emotions began. "Oh hello! Yes, great!" Rolf replied back. He was instantly thinking as soon as he saw us. The greeting and planning all at once. We would find out later that it could take us two days to clear the red tape and begin sailing, and Rolf's mind is that of a true sea Captain, and with our arrival, early in the morning, the process could begin. Rolf welcomed us aboard with hugs and thoughts of logistics and planning, process and delight. He welcomed us into his home, his livelihood, his life and his dream. Northern Light is all of that and more to both Deborah and Rolf. It is the escape hatch with which they have created a life of their own design, outside the fervor and insanity of what most people consider civilization. They are nomads and hermits, messengers and prophets. They live a lifestyle different from anyone else in the world, and they have learned more about living through their alternative mode of living than it is possible to learn with your senses continuously assaulted by the life most people live. The life we call civilized.
Deborah appeared in the cupola (the clear dome at the top of the ladder to below decks) her wild curly hair filling the dome, and setting off her face which was smiling in surprise, and mirroring the same excitement and anticipation felt by Jojo and myself. Deborah came out onto the deck and greeted us with enthusiasm bereft of embarrassment that so many people feel about expressing their emotions. Deborah is an amazing and wonderfully loving person. She is unique in her perspective(s) and as many other ways as I could think. She is my mother's sister, and is bursting with excitement and passion. She is six feet tall, strong, and sure of herself, and has followed her dreams as much as anyone could ever hope to.
We were greeted as family, and as friends. A combination that would prove to be true over the next three weeks, and I am sure, for as long as we all live. Deborah and Rolf helped Jojo and I bring our gear below, and into the aft cabin where we would be sleeping. This is usually where Deborah and Rolf sleep but due to the realities of boat life they had decided to sleep in the main cabin where the sea berths go during their sailing, and where the dining table is during the day. This was a logistical choice as they are constantly on watch for the conditions of the boat and the weather, and need to be able to get to the controls and nav. desk quickly. It was also a very hospitable choice, and Jojo and I were very comfortable for the entire time on board, tucked away into the aft cabin, on the most comfortable bed (perhaps aside from our one night of luxury) I've enjoyed in South America. Thank you again to the hosts on Northern Light.
Once we were settled and changed the four of us walked the two miles into Puerto Montt's center to visit the Armada, which is what Chile calls their maritime authority. It is managed, like much of Chile, by the government. I'll leave it up to you to decide why this is, but I think it is a holdover from the past military government of Pinoche. Rolf was expecting to submit our paperwork and then have to wait a day or two until it was approved. To our mutual delight this was not the case and after about 45 miuntes we had our zarpa, which is an official document charting and allowing our passage in specific waters in Chile. Jojo's and my names were added to the crew list and just like that we were free to go.
But before we could depart we had to stock up on our supplies, for the three weeks we were allotting ourselves. We bought some barley flower from a wholesaler, ate lunch, and decided to spend the next day at Jumbo, a mega-super-market in town. We began our walk back to the boat, but decided to stop into in internet cafe for information, and coffee. I felt a pain in my abdomen. I rushed to the bano and began 3 days of sickness of the gastrointestinal type, common to travelers in foreign countries. I will not go into detail on this, but for the next three days I was not myself. I was forced to linger near banos and became fairly dehydrated. It appeared that this portion of our trip was to begin with similar challenges as our bus portion (remember that traffic jam that nearly made us miss our bus way back in La Paz? I still do.) Jojo was feeling the same way, but her symptoms had begun the day before. Perhaps we were contaminated at the same time, and her metabolism is just that much faster, but I think we'll never know.
We made it back to the boat no problem, and relaxed, settled in, and ate dinner. The Marina office building is very well equipped with excellent hot showers, clean facilities, and wireless internet. I can't say I slept all that well that night, because I had to run up the dock and ramp to the bano a couple of times, but at least we were there, and I as as happy and excited as a sick boy can be. And in reality, waking up and walking out on the dock in that still night air all alone gave me a glimpse of the peace and beauty I would be experiencing over the weeks of sailing that were now here.
I think you, my friends and family, will realize over the next three weeks of passages, that the life Deborah and Rolf have made for themselves is different, less comfortable (to the mind of a land dweller), and more challenging. It is also more honest, more real, and more beautiful than any life you can live in the 'civilized world.' Of course nothing I am saying here is new. It's been written and re-written over and over by great thinkers, and far far better writers than I. But this is my experience of a glimpse of a life far more true, and far more beautiful, than most people even dream.
posted by Greenstigator at 5:30 PM
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