Transcribed first by his daughter
Draft for blog by Carole Bilotta-Clark
The M “Meriliisa” rises a good bit to the swells, but the sea is organized and not coming from all directions. I'm lousy sextant operator. Could only get longitude (which is easy!) to 30 miles at today's meridian passage. But at least we have sun this week. We were only able to make one meridian passage last week. So celestial sure as hell isn't ALL the answer. I think Haikki's magic box is a must for sea. DR and Magic! Night's still cool. Had to wear heavy sweater and slicker on this a.m. Watch. 0300 to 0600. We're using a very loose two on eight off thing, which nobody gets upset about fucking over. L and L moved in the cabin with me. I must be gone daft, even L's nylon bum shinning at me when I come off watch doesn't turn me on. We had a fair sized cabin. They slept below longitudinally and I above athwartships. I had a lot of room, but had to change bunk ends as we tacked. Just picked up Stars and Stripes Forever on a Portuguese radio station, but having a hell of a time finding WWV. Can get it only at 5 MHz. 15 June '74 a.m. Paperback navigation or postage stamp navigation. Ah, yes – these are two methods that Haikki says he uses upon occasion to find the exact location. Hessails up to an island, moors, goes to the drug store, buys a paperback book and asks the sales clerk where he is. Or goes to the post office and buys stamps, which have the location printed on them. Another very light day. Pulled 3 to 6 and slept through breakfast till 0930 to get a little extra rest. Which brings up the subject of bowel movements. Only had 2 between Annapolis and Bermuda – the first one was traumatic in that I got pukey from SS the first time while shitting so would up S and P at the same time. The next time was uneventful. Once in B. I didn't go because I was never conscious of needing to when I was in the pub and didn't want to when aboard , because I didn't want to lay a brown egg in such beautiful water. But last night and yesterday my body has discovered that it can go in the head without getting sick so now it doesn't want to stop. Got drunk with the FF's last night. We spent long periods of time speaking nur Deutsche. In retrospect I didn't know that I knew that much. In retrospect I didn't know that I knew that much. It was almost as though I was “speaking in tongues”. Jukka just called whale and everyone rushed topside to see large black heading bow to stern about 50 years to starboard. As Haikki was filming (for his TV commercial?) the whale sounded. No others with. There is enough booze aboard this boat to float it; not only ship stores but apparently the Finns are taking it home by the cases. But it is nice to have a couple of bottles of Rose for suppers and a few rum and cokes thereafter. 16 June '74 Joy. Joy to the world, soft water soap be damned: Joy is the absolute answer to salt water use. Bubbles and foams and cleans like crazy. The only problem is that it is so good it is almost impossible to rinse off. Wants to keep on foaming. Never go to sea without at least one case aboard. Just took a salt-water bath in Joy and am kissing sweet for the first time in 4 to 5 days. Westerlies picking up. We have been sailing/motoring NE for three days now and have found about 10 knots from WSW, which are pushing us along on a calm blue sea at four to four and a half knots. Had an absolutely gorgeous LORAN fix last night, worked the whole thing out myself. Fine gadget. Finally rigged the antenna to a shroud which works very well. The insulated antenna shroud was grounded to another but we fixed that in B and it works very well now. The meals are fairly well stylized, for breakfast always cereal, eggs or pancakes (this a.m. Coffee, bread, jelly, margarine etc). Lunch is soup and sandwiches. Supper is something special and has varied from steak, salad and baked potato to rice and vienna sausages (with hot sauce cooked in to the point that Jukka said he was surprised it did not burn a hole in his paper plate) Canned puddings or fruit for dessert and Haikki's wine. Always! Not as scarce as balance, but another very rare and cherished commodity on shipboard is privacy. Since solitude is not possible, since you are never more than a few feet from the others, it becomes important and surprisingly easy to learn when to talk to someone else and when to stay silent. Although nothing has been said on the subject directly (refer to the yellow pages) everyone is or seems to be attuned to the subject. As Leighton sagely observed yesterday it is the opinion of all souls presently aboard that this is an excellent size and composition of crew compared with last weeks, which was a wee bit crowded – 30% overload. God knows how crowded it would have been if L and D were not in bed 90% of the time. Watch last night, 0001 to 0200, was an absolute bitch. The hydraulics in the steering mechanism are all fucked up and it took 10 times as much steering with 4 to 6 complete rotations of the wheel to keep anywhere the heading. As it was, being 30 degrees off was common. More hydraulic fluid added today has solved the problem, but it was something all over again last night. In spite of the fact that it was cool, I worked up a sweat in long underwear and heavy sweater. 17 June '74 noonish. Damn! The more sail we take off the faster we go. We have been reducing sail since 0500, now have off the gypsy, fisherman and just struck the main. The wind is about 28 to 30 knots our speed is 6 to 6 ½ knots. The sun is shinning, the seas are not very big but it looks like we have a bit of weather on the horizon. Unfortunately our westerlies have turned into easterlies. But lunch ought to solve all of that. But, glory be, the clew we put in the genoa is hanging in there, may have a skill in the old hands after all! If it just didn't look a rat's nest. Last night the wind was astern and the ship rolled all night long. I really don't know whether it was the sea or the helmsmen who all got a little drunk after supper on the poop deck. Cognac makes the sea roll. Remember Auntie Bev's sunburned arms? Well the inside of my right ankle is the same way. I have no idea how it got that way, but it bloody well hurts. Night watch. Something one never looks forward to, never minds and always has a twinge about relinquishing. It's one of the rare times of absolute solitude available. Singlehanders wouldn't have these moments, but would have the weeks or months. Like tonight – she's on her own. Leighton has not touched her in 2 hours. She doesn't do that often, but when she does its far out. The ceiling creaks like crazy amidships, more than she rocks but the sea is very calm tonight. The wind NE at 15 speed 4 –4 ½ heading 130 degrees mag, 20 degrees variation. Although she may get fluky in cloud induced wind shifts, I suspect it has been a hands off night all night. Although I am writing this by flashlight, there's little need for light otherwise. Even with the moon not up one can discern enough shades of gray to maneuver. Stars! They still exist. Can you believe the Milkey Way is so bright it casts a glow on the water? It's absolutely incredible! And stars exist even to the horizon! Saw a meteor the other evening too. Happened to be looking straight up at the stars and there it was. Had a perfect LORAN all my own tonight. Really quite simple once yo get the hang of it. Early this am (yesterday now) we took down the main and didn't reduce speed – 6 l/2 knots. Les has been saying for days that we are going faster than the speedo says. Tonight's LORAN fix proves that. It showed a 180 mile/24 hour period from one perfect fix to another. That's a 7.5 knots. The speedo hasn't even touched 7.5 much less averaged that. Jukka put a note in cognac bottle tonight, to the effect that the whiskey was holding out okay but we need more women. Just hit a little rain and the wind has backed so that we're sailing near 90 degree magnetic. Safety. Nobody talks about it. Haikki did talk of having a MOB drill the other day but nothing came of it. I wear a safety harness on night watch, but I'm the only one. Sleep. Seem to sleep more, but seldom in long stretches. 2 to 3 hours at a whack 2 to 3 times a day. Sometimes lie down just to be alone. Now the bloody winds down to 10 knots and we're barely making good 160 degree mag. What's a mother to do? On sail handling, sometimes things get a bit terse. Although I wasn't called up yesterday as the gypsy was being struck, there was a loud bang which brought Jukka and me out of our beds and on deck to get help furl. Would have been an interesting shot with all hands working like crazy in stages of dress from full FWG to buck ass naked (me). Contrary to what the song says, the dawn does not come up like thunder—it takes for bloody ever. It was first discernible as I began watch about 0220 (EST) its now 0345 and the sun is nowhere near up. I won't even see it on my watch. Fucking wind has us pinched at 170 degrees now. That's 5 past tack point but I'll wait for Perra to see what the wind does by then. One man can tack okay but it's much easier with 2. Having some really lovely long relaxed dreams full of people and color-a-trip to read china to shoot a demonstration missile, a fantastic air show last night and a spy assignment to somewhere I never got to but which began at home in Florence. 0400 Time to give it up. It's so quiet, pretty and peaceful, I really begrudge Perra his watch but he likes it too, as I guess we all do. I really don't know whether Jukka does or not. 18 June 1974, sunset: Spent the better part of the day working on the main staysail. Haikki had fastened the head of the sail to the wire grommet with brass wire so took that off and did a seizing number of which I am proud. Then L and I replaced the snap hands as necessary and are now in the process of sewing the luff to the wire. My hands are sore as hell, but it's pleasant to be dong ships work while the Finns sit around and read. That's obviously why M is such a whore. Haikki did take my turn at the wheel today so I could keep working. We're headed N looking for wind. Before we left B, I bet Haqikki a bottle of cognac that we would have to beat to windward for at least 2 days. So now I have a bottle of cognac on my bunk. Tomorrow we'll rinse out the sump, where lav/shower/sink drain and try to clear up the odor. Also repair genoa sheet which is l/2 chafed through. 20 June 1974: 1930 local (time). Not much happened yesterday, nobody in mood to work. Wind has been fluky and mostly light. Not exactly as one would think of the North Atlantic. Whales. Have seen whales on several occasions. Yesterday one was on collision course but veered off 50 feet from bow. Almost ran over one a week ago. Salt water bath today. You don't have to worry about folks staying in the bathroom too long. First of all it's a big deck, second of all it's COLD man! But Joy works wonders. In spite of my admonitions Les only brought one bottle of hot sauce (she bought a bottle of chili sauce) and it's running low. Have to ration from now on. Leighton just got a super LORAN fix: 37 degrees 0 minutes N 51 degrees 35 minutes W. We spent a while this morning doing sun sight, then I spent a couple of hours working out a form for sun sights. I don't understand all that I'm doing yet, but with this form you don't have to. (attach 3) 22 June 1974, Saturday 0600: Just got off watch, speaking of which brings me to the subject of tightness of ship. Where? When? You gotta be kidding! The old saw about a tight ship is a happy ship is not disproved on M because it might still be happy if it were tight. But M proves the point that a loosely run ship can be happy, and that she is. The crew is compatible, the routine is designed, what little there is of it, for max rest, max pleasure, max drinking and min work. All 5 guys pull 2 hours on and 8 off, works well. Every now and then someone gets in a groove and dogs the watch system (which is automatically dogged anyhow) by pulling an extra watch for whatever reason. Yesterday as an example, we dogged hell out of the system. Haikki and Perre got drunk and played cards on Haikki's watch from 2200 to 2400 hours. Since Jukka had gotten kinda drunk during the evening. Haikki let him sleep and pulled his 0001 to 0200 stint. Leighton came on at 0200 and when Perre got up at 0400 and started drinking beer and talking to L, he kept right on going until 0600. At that time Perre gave everybody on board a piss call and a beer. Since everyone else was either tired or drunk or both, I pulled a 4 hour number. Leslie was the only other person up and we sat on the poop and rapped and took the sun and a few beers all a.m. (insert pic 12) Things happen at weird hours. There are at least 4 separate times on clocks and watches –EST, Bermuda, local and GMT. Ship's time is EST (I think) and as a result the sun comes up at about 0300 and goes down about 1800 or so. Meals are run basically on ship's time, but not on a set schedule. Sometimes Les doesn't get up till 0700, but this morning the coffee was on at 0600. Breakfast always includes cream of wheat or oatmeal, generally called porridge. Then eggs or pancakes (this a.m.). Lunch is usually sandwiches and soup. And now that the fresh food is gone, supper is a canned meat/pasta/rice/potato thing. All quite good. Usually served about 1800, but that varies and no one seems to care. However when I broached this subject to Leighton at breakfast, he said he got very uptight last night when the FF's on watch and playing cards would let the boat drift off till the sails slat then correct like crazy and let the main be taken aback only to be kept from jibbing by a preventer holding the boom to windward. His attitude of tautness is one thing, but “don't-give-a-shit” is something else. The FF's do as little as possible toward ship operation. Anything that is fixed is fixed by L and /or me. This includes sewing sails, pumping bilge, fixing lights, sumping the diesel tanks for salt water and sludge (approx. 25 gals have been dumped) and on and on. Boat handling, having been raised, I must say that Haikki when of a mind to is superb. When we first arrived in B, he moored in a temporary zone and had to move after customs. The harbor was like so. Attachment 4 What Haikki wanted to do was work forward and back to the middle of the harbor then let the wind back us out. Whet happened was the wind caught us and swung the bow around. By using the engine Haikki kept the M from hitting anyone while turning 180 degrees in the harbor, so that we went out bow first rather than stern first. The only point of interest was that there was 4 feet of room between the bowsprit and the spreaders of the boat on that side and the same between the davits and the boats astern. All of this was done without one person saying anything (except me when I noted to L that H had lost it), with a lot of prayers and the admiration of applause from all onlookers. Scared the shit out of me. Haikki's comment when I talked to him later: “You just have to know where your keel is.” The more I have thought about this phrase over the years, the more true it has become. It seems to be one of those universal truths. Made 150 nautical miles yesterday. The sea has been so flat for days that no one can believe it. Two to four foot swells with one to two foot waves on top. L. finally got the zenith transoceanic working properly with a ground wire and an aerial to the insulated shroud that we also use for the LORAN antenna. Some things TNC must have before really going to sea: Insulated shroud or backstay Lots and lots of hand rails internally and externally Seawater tap in galley Either twin or extra heavy back and fore stays Spare compass Spare sextant Dual RDF capability More as I think of them Lots of l/2 inch line for tying things down! Bowditch, Ashley, current almanac, charts, radio signals, site reduction tables and Madonna! (no order of necessity intended). H. gave me M's Bowditch, 1962 but what the hell, basically the same since 1840 anyhow. I suspect that the sea provides some really great fuck motions. If you're not in a hurry. I observed a bit ago, that we've been 10 days at sea since Bermuda, doesn't seem like l/2 that to me. 23 June 1974: Nearly supper, spent the majority of the day (an absolutely gorgeous sun and wind filled 160 + N miles) making more baggy wrinkle. BW is anti-chafing gear, which is wrapped around the spreaders and shrouds to keep them from chafing when running off the wind. Great pain in the ass to make because hemp shreds get everywhere. But it will look great and TNC will certainly have a suit. An absolute must. Easy to make but BORING! L and L and I are the only ones who have indulged. Haikki is making film for Finnish TV, poor Finnish TV. Have the premier watch schedule tonight: 20-2200 and 06-0800. I like the night watches (the weather has been outstanding since B) but just getting up in the middle of the night is a pain. Also now that the wind is 18 – 20 off the starboard qtrs with beam to quartering seas Merillisa doesn't steer herself at all. It's a chore just to get off watch. You spend most of the 2 hours learning how long she will balance, then the rest of it trying to hit it just right to run down below, wake your relief and make it back to the wheel before she jibes or broaches. * * * Lowell Yung: The enemy of good is better. Leighton: First the word, then the thought. Haikki: I dont' care what people believe as long as they don't take my liberty.
We were having a discussion about the Russian occupation of Finland when he offered this bon mot. Scientific observation: #1. Althought I cannot speak for the entire earth, nor can I support unqualifiedly the tenets of the Flat Earth Society, I have made the following observation based on long periods of concentrated visual sightings which has proved my observations correct and without deviation: a. The sea is flat b. The sea is circular and very close to 14 miles in diameter c. The sea varies in consistency from creamy smooth to lumpy, very much like porridge. d. The sea is cold, unlike porridge (if one makes breakfast promptly) e. The sky extends beyond the limits of the sea to an unknown extent (this has no basis in fact, but is an intuitive supposition based on cloud observation). f. Ships and islands move onto and off the ocean in a magical manner. g. Wind blows waves past a ship not a ship over the waves as current theory dictates. h. The center of universe is not the earth as is most popularly believes, but is in fact the ship upon which one sails which maintains its position invariably in the middle of the sea. Scientific Observation: #2. Water doesn't run downhill. It runs down necks. Scientific Observation: #3. The length of any given period of time is inversely proportional to the temperature and directly proportional to the precipitation. Aesthetic Observation: #1. Beauty is where you find it, but it may always be found in a hot cup of coffee laced with Tia Maria after two hours in the rain. Health Tip #1: Blowing one's nose is a two step, two Kleenex process: Step #1: Get it out of your nose. Step #2: Get it out of your mustache. Aesthetic Observation: #2. Land is GRAND! 27 June 1974: I just sighted land while I was relieving Haikki for breakfast. (catheads and coffee) 0800 ships time. So I won the bet! Free supper – the last 12-14 hours have been a bitch. The previous twelve were fantastic! Sea built off the port quarter to 15' waves with a few at 20'. Wind same location , force 6 (28 -32 knots) god she schooned! ( insert pix 13) We all acted like kids, it was so exhilarating. The sun shone brightly and not till sundown did it really cloud up, even on my watch the moon came through so brightly it wiped out all night vision shinning on the white dog house. However, all night long we were almost running with little wind and high seas and the whole boat rattled and banged and rolled and pitched. None slept well, the damn hard pillow I have hurts my ears and the rocking causes by beard to chafe hell out of my face. This morning's watch pulled 4 – 0600 consisted of cold drizzle and just enough wind to put it down my neck. Finally the little wind there was veered 180 degrees in 15 seconds and since the ship had little way; backed the sails and she came up in irons. Had to start the engines to get her off. Les was up fixing breakfast when I got off and she had a pot of coffee on. That and Tia Maria put me into sorts again. And a brief nap before breakfast fixed me up. Just looked – although we've been motoring for 45 minutes toward the island Flores, it's back in the clouds in fog and drizzle and cannot be seen. Flores, the 1st island we came to rises vertically and for all practical purposes is inaccessible to sailors. Some folks do live there, though. 29 June 1974, Saturday a.m. As I mentioned to L. yesterday afternoon, as he relieved me at the helm, “other than the facts that there is a fire in the lazarette, that no one is concerned about, we don't know where we are in spite of the fact land is less than a l/4 of a mile away, we may be nearly out of fuel, the Perkins engine keeps quitting (probably due to salt water in the tanks) , the entire corner is blown off the clew of the genoa, the fore staysail and the main staysail are both ripped leech to luff, the outhaul jerryrig on the main is shot, everyone on board is exhausted, it's getting late in the afternoon and the wind is blowing 50 knots (a whole gale) with gusts to 60 knots (a full storm) everything is “O.K.” I've really been trying to think of an appropriate word to describe yesterday the only one that comes to mind after an inordinate quantity of thought is Mother-Fucker. Capital M. Capital F. After a good, swift night outbound from Flores I came topside a little after 0600. Jukka was at the helm and I asked him if his father had taken an RDF reading? No. Well, since Haikki had estimated we would arrive at Horta at 0600, I thought this a bit weird, so I whipped out the magic box and got a reading 60 degrees off the starboard bow. The clouds were low but vis = 2 – 3 miles and all this meant twas that we were passing Faial by. Jukka didn't believe me till he had listened to the box. Haikki didn't believe Jukka and dismissed him (H was in bed) with quote “I think there must be some mistake in the RDF” very shortly thereafter when we spotted land he got his ass up and changed course. The only problem was we had seen Pico not Faial when L told Haikki that the magic box showed Faial off starboard quarter Haikki didn't believe that either and pressed on. By now the wind was like 40 knots. The main was taken down (the fisherman/topsail was already down for two days) and we blew the rest of the sails away, one by one. It really was incredible. Then as we got to the opposite end of the island, no sails, the engine started quitting. Finally the decision was made that we were on the wrong island and we turned around and retraced our path on the lea side. We passed a small bay with a fishing boat, “Flor do Pico” at anchor. After another l/2 hour we finally convinced H that it would not only be wise but insane to other than return to the bay and spend the night which was hard upon us, as was the height of the storm. So we did it. If we had not – Leighton and I had a muted conversation about taking control of the boat if H hadn't agreed to put into the harbor. There must be a word for that somewhere. I won't describe the storm. I suspect that if you've seen one you've seen them all. I don't think anyone was scared. Everyone was too busy taking down and securing blown out sails to be scared. I'm sure I may have to do it again, but I'm bloody glad I don't have to go through that again today. After anchoring, I launched a dinghy with a bottle of whiskey in tow and visited the Flor do Pico. After much drawing (there was absolutely no common language with Portuguese and French on their part and English, Finnish, Deutsche and Spanish on ours) the engineer arrived, Rogerio Manuel Echves Calhau Piedad, Pico, Azores (insert attachment 5) He and I were able to communicate fairly well, after two hours of trying which included a trip to the island to meet Rogerio's family and get greens from his mother and have wine at the local bar (three tables big, but no stools) I had supper. We could only get one fish which they filleted for us and which we got by drawing a picture (fish picture), potatoes, (a whole huge sack full, were gotten when I saw potatoes in the bait tank and pointed at them). Don't ask me why there were potatoes in the bait tank – greens were gotten by establishing the color green by pointing at various colors. Don't know what kind they were, but they were incredibly tough. Onions and garlic were offered and accepted by vinegar was not needed although I almost drank it because I thought Rogerio was offering wine. All this cost two bottles of whiskey, one of which was dispatched before we got through with the bartering process. We started out with three guys on the Flor do Pico, but the number grew rapidly to over a dozen. The wind blew the Avon dinghy over and the oars went to sea, as a result we ultimately had to be towed back. Did go ashore in the fishing dory, which they simply pull up on the cobbles. In spite of the fact that it was raining, everyone in town came down to greet us. Although everyone ultimately wound up in the bar, we made a stop in the lower room of a farm house where I swapped my watch cap for one of the fisherman's caps but it was much too small and I gave it to one of the kids. When launching their boat, they line it up on the cobbles and wait for a big wave to wash it off, then everyone leaps aboard from the seawall, fixes the huge, long thin oars on the pins and away we go. Rogerio and two of the guys from the boat came aboard the Mariliisa and had a beer and delivered the goodies. One of the cats was a big, tall, good-looking guy who I suspected of understanding at least l/2 of everything I said, but who just grinned and drank. As I sit here now in Horta after having a fine, fine supper on Haikki, gotten fairly drunk at the Cafe Sport (more on the Cafe Sport shortly) and well and truly drunk with tuna (?) Peter, Hank, Ria (?) two English kids from Windenzee, Jukka and Perra on the M and a fair nights sleep, as the song says, “all my problems seem so far away --” . But I've learned a bloody good lesson, when you go to sea, that's it. There is nothing out there but beauty and trouble. It's a fairly simple situation. If you're not ready, if you're not smart, if the ship is not perfect, you're in a whole lot of trouble. Even at best, things can be bloody terrible. The most important part of going to sea occurs before the first mooring line is cast off. Preparation is the key to the whole exercise. Enough philosophy. A lesson learned. June 30, 1974 Sunday Afternoon – let me describe what I see: I'm sitting atop a seawall in Horta, Faial, Azores (attachment 6). to my right is the sea, to my left the harbor, which has to be the most beautiful, picturesque, I've ever seen or expect to see. The hillside is dotted with white and pastel houses, all stone, all tiled roof. They grow thicker as you descend to the waterfront. The hillsides are cultivated, apparently by hand, or at least with a mule/horse. A patchwork of greens with shrubbery seams. There is a huge rock hill at the foot of the harbor. Ships line the quay. The quay and seawall combination is 50 yards wide. The wall is 20 yards high and 5 yards thick. Attachment 7 I saw pictures last night at the Cafe' sport of the sea coming over the wall. They also showed the boats that had been on cradles on the inside of the quay (the roadway) washed off the cradles! I mean like 60 feet - 70 feet yachts on their sides all askew – made me sick – I look and say “No way” . Ahead of me is the harbor mouth, just to the right of the head of the entrance, 15 miles distant is St. Jorge, to my exact right is Pico with it's peak, quite volcanic looking, and clouds. The sea smashes below. It's very clear and ranges from white foam to green to gray from the clouds. It's sprinkling. I find it very discouraging to think I won't be back here for several years. I find it even more discouraging to think now that I will probably never sail back to the Azores. Ah, life! Ah, choo! The clouds are low. The seagulls fly. The sea is calm. The harbor flat. The people promenade. St. Jorge disappears. Pico grows grayer and more distant. I'm walking the wall, Westsail shirt, Coors hat and “someday” barefoot in the rain and wigging out as the hippie would say. Pass the rain, I'm sitting under the stern of an unnamed fishing boat in some considerable state of disrepair, but it's dry under the bottom of this boat. No one seems to be concerned about the rain here. No raincoats, Only a few umbrellas. It's a little cool, but basically warm. The only reason I'm concerned about the rain, is that these are the only dry pants I have. The others are soaked from Friday's gale. It would be impossible to paint a picture so like a pictures book setting. 4 July 1974 To hell with it, I couldn't keep my mind on writing so went to see a lousy cops and robbers flick and it's now morning 5 July. O' Club: fresh orange juice, toast, coffee, eggs and sausage, with any luck at all I may be home tonight. The “mil-air” looks so unpromissing, I think I'll press on commercial. If I didn't make tomorrow's flight, the next commercial is not till Wednesday. And I can't see sitting around in a BOQ room with little money and no check (they don't have Ft. Sam counter checks here) and a set of horns it will take a bolt cutter to trim for five more days. Fourth on the waiting list. Back to Cafe Sport – The first real communication I had when we landed was to go to Cafe sport and talk to Peter. But a Portuguese/American kid showed up and after taking us to a b bank that was closed and an old lady that doesn't repair sails anymore (Peter would have known better on both counts), we went back and talked to P and everything was okay. Although the local people gather there too, every evening it turns into a gathering place for the sailors to discuss everything from the mundane, such as which shackle is best, to the esoteric, such as who gave you the right to kill goats on the Galapagos islands. (other than to kill one a day to eat of course – according to the skipper of Karin IV. Dutch guy named Case who had a Chinese wife and the designer Hank and wife aboard. Their modus operendi seemed to be that he who has the loudest philosophy has the correct philosophy). It seems that the almost totally universal language of sailors is English. The Germans, Norwegians, Finns, Dutch, French and Swede that we met all spoke good English. We were able to communicate with every sailor we met. If it seems as thought I'm talking inordinately about communication, I'm not. It becomes a very important matter when it's missing. It's really a challenge to try to find it again. (A good dictionary is a must on board if any writing is to be done and a translating one at that). Quick sketches of folks we met: The Aussies from Bermuda – standoffish. Spent Christmas with Snyder Vick till they got blown away Raul and Betty in St. Georges – Swede and American. Beautiful beard and kept our great circle chart. Ronnie from “Windenzee” which his father Bob built and they went to sea for the first time on a new boat on a 1500 mile trip and been going ever since. Bob hasn't worked in 6 years and been broke for two. Nice kid but a bit of know-it-all. They were originally Dutch but the kids were Kiwi's. Tuna & Peter & Michael & Inga from “Mary” – The brothers owned the boat and all had been sailing for a year. Tuna got drunk on board Merillisa one night and allowed as how “sailing with your sister-in-law is a bucket of “sheet”. Great people but never invited us aboard. Ian off “Crusade” racing sloop donated by Sir Max Akens, Daily Express to Ocean Youth Club. Dismasted last year 150 miles from Flores and sailed the rest of the trip using spinnaker pole as jury-rigged. Ian is professional skipper. Stick came in on “Joao do Nova” while we were in Horta but wasn't stepped when we left. Richard and Colin also from “Crusade” they really loved my 'English accent' jokes Once off the Meriliisa I have never seen anyoe in this saga except Madonna, the Yunds Mo Toole. It's a large world. I have tried to find the Hippie and Leslie, but to no avail. A total of 12 sailboats in Horta, 4 of which were bound for Falmouth. Each ship draws or writes on the sea wall. “Ondine” “America” “Mariliisa”. Also in Peter's book a picture, a brief resume of the boat, the trip, the crew. “Storm Vogel's “ entry didn't have Tom's name. Tom kept telling everyone that he had crewed aboard “Storm Vogel” to the Azores, racing – why am I skeptical? The sail maker – Jose the local mattress manufacturer and re-upholsterer. No English but through Peter and Jenny, the English girls who lives in the windmill, and a few others, we got the messages across. Leighton and Leslie and I did the cutting and taping and Jose sewed. His machine didn't zigzag, but he sewed the hell out of it, and the seams that blew were almost like battens. The clew that blew just ripped off about 1 l/2 feet from the cringle. A new corner was fashioned from another blown sail, the clew of which I own and was rather pissed at myself for having taken it when we needed it so badly. But out of fear for my continued health – I kept my mouth shut. Some of the most beautiful hand work on that sail piece I have ever seen – have no idea what happened to it. All the handwork will be done by L while they are sailing. None of the Finns know shit about sails. I don't know how he'll do it since the doubling is about 8 to 10 layers thick. He may have to take a hammer and nails. Haikki was so up tight about leaving that he pissed everyone off to the point where even the Mackies were talking of telling him to shove it. At one point H. told L. “don't think, just cut” for a son-of-a-bitch who blew 3 sails in one day (after being told that they were going to blow, over and over and over by L and me) I thought that was a rather inappropriate comment. But it finally got done, 900 escudos ($24 dollars) later, and after having only gotten 500 liters of diesel, off we set at break neck pace without stopping to tell anyone goodbye, at sunset on Wednesday. When it took us 24 hours to get to Praia that pissed H off but after a good supper at the club, and everyone taking a shower in the BOQ, things were better. Oh, H bought one of the whales' teeth. I had been looking at them, but didn't have enough dollars, but I guess he overheard and gave me one for a present. Seventy escudos equals less than $3.00, so I had to buy the other. Yesterday was spent waiting for the dynamite (one of L's favorite expressions) to be loaded aboard the USNS Wilkes and getting three 55 gallon drums of diesel from the drums to the Meriliisa. What a scene. Again I think Mackie was considering staying. Although given time I would not have left the Mariliisa, I'm more than a little concerned for her safety on this next leg. Haikki is nuts. He's not just a “crazy Finn” he's nuts. Perre is strong but isn't a heavy weight thinker (even he got mad at Haikki yesterday) and Jukka is only good for standing watch and spilling everything he picks up. I, of course, am extremely knowledgable and competent and strong, but his adamancy in the correctness of HIS way of doing things flies in the face of H. as skipper having to make decisions. It'll be a hell of a trip in more ways than one. I really wish I was there to jot it down. S. Sgt. Bill Pedersen and his wife came down to talk to L about photography and help get cokes, beer, camera, batteries which we had walked all over Horta and Praia for (even peter couldn't help) so I got off on the last trip in for beer. Other than personal memories of small details, the bad of which will fade and the good of which will bring me back. That's it.
Appendix A – Tom Tirion I separate this from “the body of the text” because I'm not sure it really belongs in the story. I want to see it in writing before I let anyone else see it. It's not limited to my observations but is a collection of those opinions and attitudes of all the players. Tom the Dutch president of IMPEX, the brokerage firm which handled the Mariliisa's sale. Young, pleasant, good looking, a wheeler-dealer who managed to get work done through others. Now that's okay, but in addition to bragger, bull shitter and quitter. Examples: Bragger – told Leighton that he was going to use this passage to study for his master's license, the only thing he did was to take a few sun sights. Bull Shitter – his constant leaving me to do the work before we sailed with stories of phone calls and business contacts, four our phone call? Quitter – in spite of pre-sail plans to sail all the way, Tom professed business demands on route to Bermuda which precluded his continuing. Where did they come from? And paranoia – wanted the gun on board in case the Finns started trouble, wanted a compatible couple on board so there would be no romances, wanted Les to ration the beer to one can per day per person so no one would drink too much. (The Finns and I consumed 12 cases in 14 days, from Bermuda to Azores) and worse than I was about life harness use and that's saying a lot. As a sailor, even I could tell he wasn't much (one buys one's berth on Storm Vogel). Perre opined inSt. Georges that I was a better sailor than Tom would ever be. The source must be considered, but the comment was made by several to me that after we left Bermuda we had the correct ship's compliment. Every person on board told Leighton that they were glad Tom had gotten off. As a ship's captain he was worse than useless. He was almost incapable of making a decision and then was fairly incompetent in enforcing it or seeing it through. I knew it would be an interesting contest of wills between Tom and Haikki but there was really no contest at all. Every decision of any importance was made by Haikki and that is of extreme interest in the light of future decisions which were either untimely or flat incorrect on the part of Haikki. But at sea a bad decision is better than no decision at all. Haikki let the ship run herself, all the details sort themselves out, let the work fall to whomever saw the need and had enough sense to do it. As I mentioned earlier, it made for a happy go lucky ship under good conditions but as his attitude extended into survival conditions the good humor dissolved rapidly and I don't believe will ever return. So in that light, Tom's abrogation of authority and abandonment of the ship to Haikki's captaincy after hornswaggling everyone into believing that he was to be the head man the whole trip, unforgivable. A cop out. I'd rather sail with Jukka as Captain than Tom. All of this is not meant to signify that I don't like Tom personally. I do. I like a lot of people I don't trust inherently but it turned outwe had a fish who was not in his element in the water, a flying fish. Sorry Tom, I had higher hopes, we all did. Appendix B: Leighton Mackie Ex-South African policeman, turned hippie photographer. Sailed first aboard “Nosegay”, 70 foot schooner, later aboard “affair”, Choy lee creampuff. Excellent sailor. I'd sail with him anywhere. Incisive mind, excellent logician, fine observer of the scene and thinker. Many olong discussions, some 4 hours and more long, where he'd be on watch and I'd stand in front of the binnacle, talk for two hours, then we'd switch and pursue the same subject which invariably digressed to many others. But opinionated, partly accounted for by his “devil's advocate” stance, but the morning after the storm typifies my thesis. There was an unlimited amount of work to be done to restore Merilliisa to some semblance of order. Since, as usual, he and I were the only ones doing any work, and most of it required two men -- I made many suggestions of what to do and how to do it. I started keeping track when I realized by batting average was nearly zero. I think it turned out to be greater than 50 after I started keeping score. Granted Leighton is an excellent sailor, am I that bad? Sure offered me food for thought. I wrote Bos a note that if I were to be thinking of hiring a professional skipper I would pick Leighton Mackie. And a dynamite photographer (he is). Appendix: A lot of people apparently have their appendices taken out before going to sea to preclude the possibility of appendicitis. C: Dick Coffee: And where do I fit into this picture? Damned if I know really. It's certainly not fair to compare any analysis included here with the rest of this monologue, because I don't observe myself as others must. "Oh to have the giftee geeus" see link Robert Burns - Poem To A Louse. It's of possible slight interest to others to look at another person through that other person's eyes. Especially since that other person who has gone to the sea for the first time and has promised himself to be back again. [My god, but it's a small world -- just went into the office to get my pencil sharpened and ran into L/C Paul McEachern from AFSC days, and Col. Gilbert ex of RDGC, they're looking for transportation home, would like to fly with them, but they may have taken my seat.] Back again -- One of the phrases I've used a lot on this trip is "among many things I've learned is ______." Well there is no way I can sit here and generate a simple list of things which I've learned, a few I've included as I went along. A very few. Many others I've read and simply found verified. The vast majority constitute not what to do, but when and how to do it. These are things which can't be quantified, but which one must practice along with all the book learning to become a good sailor. I hope that I have learned them well and truly, because almost invariably if I do practice what I've learned I will be well on the way to being a competent sailor. One thing I believe I've learned is that when Lady Luck leaves your table if you're not competent you crap out at sea. If I may be allowed the literary license of dispensing with consistency which I believe I've already shot in the ass, I'll just jot thoughts for a while. "One needs to dull the corners of one's boat as one sharpens the corners of one's mind." "Landfall is more beautiful than any beauty found at sea when but when you have salt in your socks, you're willing to trade again and again." The sight of the Mariliisa far to sea, nearly to the horizon's edge, letting the Azores blow off the edge of her world, was incredibly sad. I really wished I was there, I almost cried. I'll be back to the sea and most especially to the Acores (Azores)Acores Azores Warm clothing on watch takes away a lot of the goose pimples. Solo night watches are lonely at best and one tends to spook hell out of oneself. Leighton saw a space ship of quite large size coming to get him one night but it turned out to be the moon rising just under the clouds. dogs bark, guns fire, whales come close by, things whistle, people talk to you -- some kept telling Diana to disappear (which may not hae been a hallucination) but you get used to the fact that it will happen. a cold body on a cold watch is worse than 60 knot winds. Speaking of which ski clothes are not water proof at 60 knots and I soaked my jacket and got extremely cold in less than l/2 hour. Overconfidence, no matter how well concurred in by everyone else, of the location of a landfall when the issue is in doubt at all is inexcusable. All of my previous remonstrances not withstanding, one uses every navigation skill one has at all times. It's really a big 14 miles. I left the 1962 Bowditch to Leslie and Leighton, they hope to pick up a small boat in Europe and sail it home to where they plan to build their dream boat. I suspect he'll have more use of it sooner than will I. I hope so. I'm basically very pleased with what I've done, that I did iot at all, the way in which I did it and my feelings now that it's over. Ornthological Observation #1: A day never passes without seeing birds at sea. Petrels, terns and gulls (close to land), long tails within several hundred miles of Bermuda. Arrival bet -- Flores. Bet: land sighted from ship/ship's time looser stays on boat, winner gets free dinner. I have no recollection of how I got home! END
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Carole said:
Reminding me of the Chicago tune "Only The Beginning". read more
on Lt. Col. Dick Coffee sails the "Mariliisa" Schooner to Azores 1974
on Lt. Col. Dick Coffee sails the "Mariliisa" Schooner to Azores 1974