FAQs

Where are you going?

To begin with, we plan to head south to the Caribbean, visiting the Lesser Antilles, including the  Windward Islands. From there, it all depends on our inclination. If we enjoy the sailing and landfalls and want to see more, we will continue as long as our funds, our health and our personal circumstances allow.

Right now, we hope to keep going to the Pacific. In that case. immediately after the eastern Caribbean we would set a course west to the Panama Canal. The idea of a circumnavigation is certainly on our minds, too (and if we did it, our route might look something like this). But we don’t need to go around the world to feel that we have succeeded. We’re aware that we are going where most never will; that's the essence of adventure, which is all we really seek.

Are you crazy?

Most people are too polite to ask the question in just this way, but since it seems a perfectly reasonable thing to wonder, the most reasonable answer is this: Most certainly. But only a little bit.

Although we haven't yet decided on an exact route, should we opt to continue voyaging westward (through the Panama Canal and across the Pacific), we will be more or less taking a well-worn path known to cruisers as the “Coconut Milk Run.” As the name implies, it is under normal circumstances a relatively easy route that takes advantage of the eastern trade winds, making for mostly downwind passages that are easier on boat and crew.

Having said that, we've been unfortunate enough to have set our target departure right in the middle of a “strong El Nino event,” which unexpectedly crept up on us in late spring 2015 after it was too late to change our plans. If it lasts into spring 2016 as is now forecast, it's likely going to complicate the passage-making, particularly in the Pacific.

Isn't this a huge risk?

Yes and no. The stars are aligned for us to go now. We are both relatively young and relatively fit; we have a small savings that we hope will see us through; and, we are both at a point in our lives where we feel it’s time to make a change.

From a financial standpoint, any professional would advise against what we are doing. Quitting (or at least stepping aside from) a career at age 50 is certainly not the smartest move. After all, these are the years when one ought to be diligently filling the 401K coffers, right? The caveats are valid. If our only ambition in life was to ensure a comfortable retirement, we wouldn’t be the sort of people to seriously contemplate ocean voyaging. And if you are the kind of person who prefers security over adventure, that’s fine by us -- but we aren’t like that.

There's another reason for going now: climate change is starting to make global weather patterns harder to predict. There's evidence that tropical cyclones -- often stronger ones than were common in the past -- have begun occurring with greater frequency and outside the normal season and typical latitudes. This isn't a matter of debate any longer; it is a fact. If we wait 10 years to try, the trends already firmly in place might make the trip considerably more difficult.

Aren’t you scared of big waves?

Sure. Who wouldn’t be?

Back in 2005, I sailed a much smaller boat (a 28’ sloop) through a typhoon in the South China Sea (you can read about it here). I sincerely hope it doesn’t get worse than that -- an event I feel privileged to have experienced but nonetheless have absolutely no desire to repeat.

Even so, such "survival conditions" are very unusual and most sailors never encounter them. With close attention to weather and sailing in the right season, most days at sea will be marked by light-to-moderate winds and a gentle ocean swell. Bad weather (and even then, nothing close to survival conditions) will constitute a relatively small portion of our passage-making. We hope.

Many people have circumnavigated on small boats and never encountered anything more than 35 knots of wind -- a moderate gale. It would be optimistic to expect as much, but if we play our cards right, we shouldn’t have any big problems.

What about pirates?

There are only a very few places in the world where the threat of attack by oceangoing pirates (as opposed to the land-based variety, who mostly haunt boatyards and marine stores) is the least bit credible. Even in those locales, attacks on private yachts are exceedingly rare. That’s not to say that it doesn’t happen, but if you think of piracy as a form of crime, petty theft and violent crime exist everywhere in the world. In many places those bad things occur much less frequently than in the United States. In any case, such crime is much less common at sea, and not all that common at anchor.

What about seasickness and other illnesses at sea?

I've had no great problem with seasickness in my previous sailing, although that doesn’t mean that I won’t have a problem at some point, given the right set of conditions. Noi is another story. She definitely is prone to seasickness. But, this typically takes care of itself after a few days offshore. There are also some very good medicines nowadays -- much better than the old standby, Dramamine. And then there's some common sense strategies to avoid or ameliorate seasickness that have been known for centuries. We are cautiously optimistic that we can keep the problem under control.

As for other illnesses and injuries, we have a pretty comprehensive medical kit aboard. Both Noi and I have some rudimentary First Aid training and I was once a U.S. Army medic, although that was a very long time ago. We also have the satellite phone for contacting land-based doctors for advice, if need be.

Isn’t your boat too small?

No. Symbiosis has already circumnavigated under previous owners. Her size (37’ with a 11.5’ beam) is big enough to support two to five people comfortably for extended voyaging. Although cruising boats have gotten bigger in recent years and we are now considered on the smaller side of the cruising flotilla, we don’t mind sacrificing a bit of space to save some money. The bigger the boat, the more expensive it is. While that might seem obvious, few people consider the upkeep and repair bills. Besides, we’ve lived on Symby for years now. We are well adjusted to having to walk around, past and over one another. It’s a minor inconvenience, but part of the “liveaboard” life.

Will you work along the way?

I hope to be able to do some freelance journalism, perhaps an occasional story for one or more of the sailing magazines and news or cultural features from time to time for my old employer, NPR. But it's not anything that we are counting on as regular income.

As for picking up other kinds of work along the way, it's possible, but most countries, especially in the developing world, are understandably reluctant to let foreigners to do work their own people can do.

What will you eat?

Symbiosis is a cruising boat that has been around the world before (with previous owners), so she has a fair amount of storage. We have room to stash the staples for a day-to-day existence. For Noi, that means chili powder, fish sauce and a dozen different Thai cooking powders; I plan to stock up with several cans of my (famous/infamous) apricot chutney. We’ll also have an ample supply of soups and dehydrated noodles to make quick meals.

As for fresh produce, that is no problem. Fresh fruit and vegetables – albeit not always the same varieties that Americans are used to -- can be found anywhere in the world. Unless something goes wrong, we would not normally be at sea for more than about a month, and more typically for a week or 10 days at a time.

So, scurvy isn't an issue.

What about fishing? People who know what they're doing are able to catch fish such as Mahi Mahi (also known as Dorado or dolphin fish) as well as tuna. We're not entirely sure yet that we know what we're doing.

Water is actually a much more complicated issue. For a number of reasons, we have forgone a new-fangled water maker (they are expensive, require a lot of power and are quite prone to breaking). We do, however, have a 90 gallon fresh-water tank, which means that we will need to be very cautious with how we use it.

A few very long passages might well necessitate outright rationing. In the tropics, 1.5 gallons per person per day is about the minimum required. So, on a passage that might normally take 30 days (say from Panama to Marquesas), for just two people we'd require pretty much all of the water in our tanks and then need to bring several additional jugs as a safety factor.

Most washing, including clothes and dishes, will be done first in seawater with a fresh rinse. And, of course, rain would replenish our tanks. But naturally, there are no guarantees on that.

How will you communicate?

We have a satellite phone and two different radios – one for short-range communication with other nearby vessels and land stations (VHF) and another for communication over greater distances (HF SSB). We will also have a Spot tracking device that will allow the folks at home to view our position online. The sat phone will probably not be on all the time. Most likely we will switch it on only when we need to make a call, retrieve weather information and email (on a special account). The SSB is subject to the vagaries of atmospheric conditions. Solar flares can also interfere with the signal -- the same goes with the sat phone.

Important: Just because you can’t reach us (or view our position) does not mean we are in any sort of trouble. A few years ago during an offshore passage, a well-meaning friend at home didn't see our Spot squawking because I had temporarily misplaced it. As a result he called the Coast Guard and almost triggered an air-sea rescue. Thankfully, I located the beacon and activated a position report moments before the Coasties on Long Island (unbeknownst to me) launch helicopters to mount a search.

That's to say that we're all so used to instant communication that we barely remember when it wasn’t possible. It’s become a security blanket for us and we feel exposed and afraid when communication isn’t instantaneous and 100 percent reliable. But at sea, it’s still 1985. Or maybe 1991.

And, we do have an Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB) aboard that can be triggered as a last resort in a “Mayday” situation to summon authorities and a rescue. Of course, we hope we will never have to use it.

On land, we plan to buy local prepaid SIM cards and use them with a conventional cell phone. They are available in most places at reasonable cost (so I am told).

How will you steer?

Hand steering (i.e., standing at helm hour after hour with your hands on the wheel) is fun for a while, but after a few hours quickly degenerates into a boring and fatiguing chore. Luckily, most ocean voyagers, like us, employ wind vane self-steering. It’s a nifty piece of gear first developed in the 1950s to harness the wind and the water to keep a boat on course. Think of it as autopilot without electricity. It requires fine-tuning the sail trim and can be a bit of a challenge to get up and running; but once the vane is set (and providing that the direction of the wind doesn’t suddenly shift), it can steer the boat indefinitely.

For those times when there’s not enough wind, or when the wind vane doesn't work as well on light air and/or on some points of sail), we’ll have a conventional electric autopilot.

Won’t you need to keep a constant lookout?

Yes. The International Regulations for Preventing Collisions at Sea, better known to sailors as the “Colregs” state that a visual watch must be maintained aboard at all times.

Sure, you’ve heard or read about solo sailors who sleep for 20 minutes, get up, scan the horizon, reset the egg timer and then go back to sleep. They are in violation of the rules. Not technically, but actually. If nothing happens and they are lucky enough not to get run over, or to run over someone else, nobody is going to question it. But, the simple fact is, what they are doing is dangerous and against all maritime tradition and protocols.

The truth is, once you sail away from the coast and outside the established “shipping lanes,” you are unlikely to see any other vessel for the entire passage. The ocean is a very big place and that fact has probably saved more than a few less-than-prudent singlehanders. Even so, it’s worth noting that Joshua Slocum, the first single-handed circumnavigator, is thought to have been run down and killed by a steamer in 1909, some years after completing his epic round-the-world voyage.

When it’s just the two of us, Noi and I will rotate shifts on deck being the person who keeps us from getting hit, keeps an eye on the weather and decides on sail changes as necessary. We will have something like 3-4 hours on, 3-4 hours off. When other crew come with us, the watch schedule will expand accordingly and we’ll all, hopefully, get a bit more rest.

Will other people come with you?

As often as is practical. Noi and I plan to have additional crew for the first long leg from Moorhead, N.C. to the British Virgin Islands (approximately 2 weeks) and for at least one or two other passages in the Caribbean. We're open to have sailing friends whenever we can, but it is often the case that cruisers and their would-be land-dwelling crew have a hard time making connections. Cruising is not conducive to set schedules and it's important to avoid taking a chance on iffy weather just because you have someone to meet at the next island. Likewise, others have jobs and limited vacation. So, they can't always wait if you're delayed or have to delay the passage they signed on for.

For the few derelicts who might be able to work around such constraints, we'd love to have you aboard!