Laguardia airport - bench near baggage claim
Amazing. I just spent a solid seven hours without moving from my seat here. It took me exactly seven hours to peel a whole 32 ounce bottle of raw cocoa beans. One by one I peeled each one and never moved from this seat, never stood up, never stretched my legs. I simply sat here for seven straight hours.
I've been here at this bench now for a total of nearly nine hours. The time was well used. I had placed my damp dirty clothes over my suitcase so they could dry. I removed my boots and socks to air them out and relieve the blister on my ankle. The area around me looks like a homeless camp. While I was peeling cocoa beans several people passing by looked curiously at me. One security guard thought I was rolling a joint. He thought that the pile of cocoa bean skins lying on my notebook on my lap was weed. He asked me what they taste like so I gave him one. "Not bad", he said.
Now to gather my stuff, repack, and go upstairs to the check-in area. I still have a few hours to kill. Maybe I'll get a little rest before check-in opens and I finally board that plane back to San Diego.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Wednesday, July 14th 4:37 pm
Laguardia airport - on a bench near baggage claim
"Life at the Bottom" sounds like appropriate reading for me now. At this time I'm supposed to be in Philadelphia waiting to soon board my connecting flight but instead I'm sitting on a rather uncomfortable bench staring out the window of the airport terminal. My flight was canceled due to bad weather. It's been raining all day and at times it pours. My unwashed clothes stink of sweat. I haven't changed since the day before. I need to air out my boots.
It's going to be a long thirteen hours. Hum, could that be my lucky number? The ticket agent, bless her heart, booked me on the next earliest flight available which is at 6:00 am tomorrow, so I'll be spending a lovely night at the airport,... not with my wife.
I've been eating from my nearly exhausted supply of dates, prunes, and raw cocoa beans. I've probably dropped about six pounds since I left San Diego a few days ago. I don't feel too hungry though. I seem to have adapted. Plus, the cocoa beans are an amazing food and excellent energy source. I think a person could live a long time on raw cocoa beans and nothing more.
Maybe something positive could come from all this crazy mess. God, I hope so. I'm not looking forward to going back to non-sense low-paying jobs while I constantly submit for paying gigs that I rarely book. It's a hard life for a dreamer. So far it's just a dream, still far from reach.
So, what to do with all this time I now have? I think I'll try to find objects to photograph and maybe sell as stock. There doesn't seem to be many opportunities sitting here but I'll do something. Then, when I get bored of that, maybe I'll open the bottle of cocoa beans and peel the skins off of them. That should keep me busy for a while.
"Life at the Bottom" sounds like appropriate reading for me now. At this time I'm supposed to be in Philadelphia waiting to soon board my connecting flight but instead I'm sitting on a rather uncomfortable bench staring out the window of the airport terminal. My flight was canceled due to bad weather. It's been raining all day and at times it pours. My unwashed clothes stink of sweat. I haven't changed since the day before. I need to air out my boots.
 | |
| View from a bench at Laguardia airport in New York |
It's going to be a long thirteen hours. Hum, could that be my lucky number? The ticket agent, bless her heart, booked me on the next earliest flight available which is at 6:00 am tomorrow, so I'll be spending a lovely night at the airport,... not with my wife.
I've been eating from my nearly exhausted supply of dates, prunes, and raw cocoa beans. I've probably dropped about six pounds since I left San Diego a few days ago. I don't feel too hungry though. I seem to have adapted. Plus, the cocoa beans are an amazing food and excellent energy source. I think a person could live a long time on raw cocoa beans and nothing more.
Maybe something positive could come from all this crazy mess. God, I hope so. I'm not looking forward to going back to non-sense low-paying jobs while I constantly submit for paying gigs that I rarely book. It's a hard life for a dreamer. So far it's just a dream, still far from reach.
So, what to do with all this time I now have? I think I'll try to find objects to photograph and maybe sell as stock. There doesn't seem to be many opportunities sitting here but I'll do something. Then, when I get bored of that, maybe I'll open the bottle of cocoa beans and peel the skins off of them. That should keep me busy for a while.
Wednesday July 14th 11:34 am
Laguardia airport - gate 1
Security in New York reminds me of that in Mexico. Military police, both men and women dressed in fatigues, are on guard at posts throughout Grand Central Terminal and on the streets. Airport security is higher as well with more personnel on duty. I chuckle as an overweight female security officer wobbles past me, a "Special Services" label on her sleeve.
I'm finally relaxed and ready to get back to San Diego, back to the cool weather. But then what? I've got no job, no home, nothing really. Everything was put on hold to do this trip. I had big expectations, big plans to launch a photography career which has been on the decline ever since the recession hit. Maybe I'll join the military. It seems that it may be a good fit. It could at least be exciting. I will make another attempt at the film industry. So far it's been a disappointment. Every year gets better but without having enough 'filler' work I just can't seem to make ends meet.
This trip seemed to be the perfect opportunity to utilize all my talents and interests. So disappointing to be leaving but I must some how move forward.
Yesterday Alberto was gone much of the day buying stuff at Home Depot. Meanwhile, Ricardo, Felipe, and I pulled the anchors for inspection and to measure the length of chain and rope. We laughed and joked around while we worked. We developed a good working rhythm. I will keep in touch with them. They are good guys.
Security in New York reminds me of that in Mexico. Military police, both men and women dressed in fatigues, are on guard at posts throughout Grand Central Terminal and on the streets. Airport security is higher as well with more personnel on duty. I chuckle as an overweight female security officer wobbles past me, a "Special Services" label on her sleeve.
I'm finally relaxed and ready to get back to San Diego, back to the cool weather. But then what? I've got no job, no home, nothing really. Everything was put on hold to do this trip. I had big expectations, big plans to launch a photography career which has been on the decline ever since the recession hit. Maybe I'll join the military. It seems that it may be a good fit. It could at least be exciting. I will make another attempt at the film industry. So far it's been a disappointment. Every year gets better but without having enough 'filler' work I just can't seem to make ends meet.
This trip seemed to be the perfect opportunity to utilize all my talents and interests. So disappointing to be leaving but I must some how move forward.
Yesterday Alberto was gone much of the day buying stuff at Home Depot. Meanwhile, Ricardo, Felipe, and I pulled the anchors for inspection and to measure the length of chain and rope. We laughed and joked around while we worked. We developed a good working rhythm. I will keep in touch with them. They are good guys.
 |
| Felipe and Ricardo working on the anchor |
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Wednesday July 14th about 8:00 am
Metro-North train to New York
I feel like Rambo in First Blood part one. I successfully removed all 100 pounds of my luggage and escaped undetected from the crew of "The Elusive" while they slept. Yes, I went AWOL. I guess this makes for a more interesting end to a seemingly ill-fated adventure.
Ricardo and Felipe reacted slightly as the floor creaked under my steps while Alberto slept soundly in his room. Fortunately I got up at 6:20 in the morning. The rain is now coming down hard and persistent.
I'm alone in the beautiful state of Connecticut despite hundreds of people being on the subway. I feel sad about the situation. But after assessing the project in its entirety I sincerely feel that I've made the right decision. I think Alberto is desperate to find crew members. Only a few of us were able and willing to take on this challenge.
Last night I wrote a letter to Alberto explaining my position. I wrote in Portuguese basically explaining to him that based on my observations and considering the information I've gathered from dock owners and Zach, and also my gut instincts, this boat and the other boat are far from ready and the trip will likely take much longer than the 60 - 75 days Alberto claims. He sounds optimistic about everything but reality paints a different picture.
I wrote to him that I must return to California and I would consider meeting up with them in Florida if I have proof that everything is ready. I pointed out that if he can't even respect a person's simple request to purchase his own healthy food then there are some serious problems in this project. Furthermore, such restrictions can terribly deplete the creative energies necessary for a photographer or filmographer to do a good work.
This morning, after conducting a test evacuation, I left the letter on my bed and carefully carried out my suitcase. As I pushed it through the hatch it made a noise as it shifted and Ricardo turned his head slightly but didn't open his eyes. I carefully climbed down the ladder, set it by my tube of fishing poles, and went to get a drink of water from the bathroom. As I returned I stood at the edge of the wooden deck in front of the Port Milford office and replay in my mind the events of the past few days. I've been here long enough to develop an attachment to life on "The Elusive". I really like my shipmates Ricardo and Felipe. We work very well together. Last night we ate dinner on top of the deck of the bow. The night was very still and quiet except for the sounds of a few ducks in the distance. The tide was rising and the lights of the marina reflected on the surface of the still water. We shared our feelings regarding the situation. Ricardo reaffirms that he is doing all he can do to get the boat ready. I reassure him that I understand and it's not his fault. I can just see that there is so much more to be done and I no longer have confidence in Alberto's ability to organize this project. They both tell me that they really want me to accompany them on this trip. "It's a chance of a lifetime", Ricardo says.
I agree with him. it is a very unique opportunity to live an unforgettable experience, but to dream about it is one thing. To complete it is another. We are still quite a way from being able to realize this dream.
It's beautiful to be communicating with my shipmates in their own Brazilian tongue. I get along well with Brazilians and I have a lot of respect and admiration of them and their country. It's sad to have to depart. I just can't find it in me to tell them that I am leaving in the morning.
I make my way back to the boat to retrieve one last piece of belongings, my back pack. I hear some movement inside the boat and wait for silence to return before ascending the ladder. I seem to have mastered this stealth movement as I maneuver myself through the hatch and over the creaky floor with hardly a sound. I notice Felipe has changed position in his bed. I struggle to load my 40-pound pack on my back without making much noise. As I walk towards the hatch I crouch lowly to avoid hitting the low 5-foot hallway ceiling with my back pack. I pause next to Felipe's bed and silently say my final goodbyes. A small towel covers his eyes to prevent the daylight from the hatch above from waking him. I carefully position myself with my back towards the hatch as I slowly use my legs to push myself up the steps being careful not to make any quick movements or hit the hatch cover above. A part of me wants Ricardo to wake up so I can say thank you and goodbye. I stand up on deck peering down at him but he doesn't awaken. I turn and climb down the ladder, possibly to never see them again.
I pick up my suitcase and tube of fishing poles and proceed to walk away. A man is standing in the parking lot watching me. In order to not look suspicious I walk over to him and introduce myself. Paul is his name. I tell him about our boat not being ready.
"Yeah, that's the one that's going to sail to Brazil, right?" he asks.
Everyone knows about this voyage. I explain to him that the boat was supposed to be ready when I arrived but it's not and I don't have the time to invest in it, but if possible, I would meet them in Florida after they leave here.
I say goodbye to Paul and wish him well. As I walk down the road I stop and turn to take one more final look at "The Elusive". It stands alone. Ladders lean against it. Newspaper is taped along the side to prevent over spray from the painting of the hull. Pieces of wet paper hang by masking tape loosened from the previous days' rain. "The Elusive" is far from glamorous but she's got character. This has great documentary potential. Alberto has the perfect look for a sailor, too. If only we had better organization and preparation. I've worked on several projects in the past that were poorly organized and they turned out to be a waste of time. Alberto has a ton of life experience, having served in the Brazilian military, sailing the Brazilian coast, exploring many exciting destinations of Latin America, and creating his media company but here he has somehow missed the mark. Donald Trump would say, "you're fired!"
Perhaps the stress is affecting his sound judgement. He can't stop saying "puta merda" for everytime he has a complaint about another person or he can't find something in that "bagunça" (mess) of loose equipment, tools, nuts and bolts that lie everywhere inside.
I turn towards the west and continue walking not to look back again.
A young man sitting across the isle in the train is reading a book titled "Life at the Bottom". The train has now arrived to Grand Central Terminal.
I feel like Rambo in First Blood part one. I successfully removed all 100 pounds of my luggage and escaped undetected from the crew of "The Elusive" while they slept. Yes, I went AWOL. I guess this makes for a more interesting end to a seemingly ill-fated adventure.
Ricardo and Felipe reacted slightly as the floor creaked under my steps while Alberto slept soundly in his room. Fortunately I got up at 6:20 in the morning. The rain is now coming down hard and persistent.
I'm alone in the beautiful state of Connecticut despite hundreds of people being on the subway. I feel sad about the situation. But after assessing the project in its entirety I sincerely feel that I've made the right decision. I think Alberto is desperate to find crew members. Only a few of us were able and willing to take on this challenge.
Last night I wrote a letter to Alberto explaining my position. I wrote in Portuguese basically explaining to him that based on my observations and considering the information I've gathered from dock owners and Zach, and also my gut instincts, this boat and the other boat are far from ready and the trip will likely take much longer than the 60 - 75 days Alberto claims. He sounds optimistic about everything but reality paints a different picture.
I wrote to him that I must return to California and I would consider meeting up with them in Florida if I have proof that everything is ready. I pointed out that if he can't even respect a person's simple request to purchase his own healthy food then there are some serious problems in this project. Furthermore, such restrictions can terribly deplete the creative energies necessary for a photographer or filmographer to do a good work.
This morning, after conducting a test evacuation, I left the letter on my bed and carefully carried out my suitcase. As I pushed it through the hatch it made a noise as it shifted and Ricardo turned his head slightly but didn't open his eyes. I carefully climbed down the ladder, set it by my tube of fishing poles, and went to get a drink of water from the bathroom. As I returned I stood at the edge of the wooden deck in front of the Port Milford office and replay in my mind the events of the past few days. I've been here long enough to develop an attachment to life on "The Elusive". I really like my shipmates Ricardo and Felipe. We work very well together. Last night we ate dinner on top of the deck of the bow. The night was very still and quiet except for the sounds of a few ducks in the distance. The tide was rising and the lights of the marina reflected on the surface of the still water. We shared our feelings regarding the situation. Ricardo reaffirms that he is doing all he can do to get the boat ready. I reassure him that I understand and it's not his fault. I can just see that there is so much more to be done and I no longer have confidence in Alberto's ability to organize this project. They both tell me that they really want me to accompany them on this trip. "It's a chance of a lifetime", Ricardo says.
 |
| Ricardo and Alberto plotting the coordinates of ports in Brazil |
I agree with him. it is a very unique opportunity to live an unforgettable experience, but to dream about it is one thing. To complete it is another. We are still quite a way from being able to realize this dream.
It's beautiful to be communicating with my shipmates in their own Brazilian tongue. I get along well with Brazilians and I have a lot of respect and admiration of them and their country. It's sad to have to depart. I just can't find it in me to tell them that I am leaving in the morning.
 |
| Felipe preparing the boat for painting |
I make my way back to the boat to retrieve one last piece of belongings, my back pack. I hear some movement inside the boat and wait for silence to return before ascending the ladder. I seem to have mastered this stealth movement as I maneuver myself through the hatch and over the creaky floor with hardly a sound. I notice Felipe has changed position in his bed. I struggle to load my 40-pound pack on my back without making much noise. As I walk towards the hatch I crouch lowly to avoid hitting the low 5-foot hallway ceiling with my back pack. I pause next to Felipe's bed and silently say my final goodbyes. A small towel covers his eyes to prevent the daylight from the hatch above from waking him. I carefully position myself with my back towards the hatch as I slowly use my legs to push myself up the steps being careful not to make any quick movements or hit the hatch cover above. A part of me wants Ricardo to wake up so I can say thank you and goodbye. I stand up on deck peering down at him but he doesn't awaken. I turn and climb down the ladder, possibly to never see them again.
I pick up my suitcase and tube of fishing poles and proceed to walk away. A man is standing in the parking lot watching me. In order to not look suspicious I walk over to him and introduce myself. Paul is his name. I tell him about our boat not being ready.
"Yeah, that's the one that's going to sail to Brazil, right?" he asks.
Everyone knows about this voyage. I explain to him that the boat was supposed to be ready when I arrived but it's not and I don't have the time to invest in it, but if possible, I would meet them in Florida after they leave here.
I say goodbye to Paul and wish him well. As I walk down the road I stop and turn to take one more final look at "The Elusive". It stands alone. Ladders lean against it. Newspaper is taped along the side to prevent over spray from the painting of the hull. Pieces of wet paper hang by masking tape loosened from the previous days' rain. "The Elusive" is far from glamorous but she's got character. This has great documentary potential. Alberto has the perfect look for a sailor, too. If only we had better organization and preparation. I've worked on several projects in the past that were poorly organized and they turned out to be a waste of time. Alberto has a ton of life experience, having served in the Brazilian military, sailing the Brazilian coast, exploring many exciting destinations of Latin America, and creating his media company but here he has somehow missed the mark. Donald Trump would say, "you're fired!"
Perhaps the stress is affecting his sound judgement. He can't stop saying "puta merda" for everytime he has a complaint about another person or he can't find something in that "bagunça" (mess) of loose equipment, tools, nuts and bolts that lie everywhere inside.
 |
| Inside "The Elusive" - bed (on left), kitchen, refrigerator (foreground), ladder to exit |
I turn towards the west and continue walking not to look back again.
A young man sitting across the isle in the train is reading a book titled "Life at the Bottom". The train has now arrived to Grand Central Terminal.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 13th about 7 pm
The "Elusive"
Defeat, stupidity, deception, disappointment, anger, fear, distress, heartache, sorrow. That's me right now. It's time to pick up the pieces and move on. I made a very, very tough decision. I'm abandoning ship. Ricardo has no more minutes left on his phone so I found a pay phone about a mile away in front of the library and arranged a flight departing New York at 1:59 pm tomorrow, arriving to San Diego at 8:19 pm. Then I must face the reality and result of my actions. Sometimes I think that it would be better if I were a drug addict or drunk, then I could blame my failures on my habit. But instead I'm a hard-working honest man with a strong desire to do good and live a purposeful life full of passion. So what can I blame my failures on? I can't hide. It's all me. And especially this time. I stepped out and took a risk. I told a lot of people about this incredible trip and all the wonderful photos and video documentation we were to do, and it's over before it could begin.
The three of us - Ricardo, Felipe, and I had a talk this morning about the situation and how Alberto wants to do so much to the boat to get it ready and he overlooks the basics plus he's cheap about some things. The electronics are really good but other stuff is ridiculously cheap. For example, the zodiac inflatable boat he bought for one-hundred dollars. It is in terrible condition and requires several patches where it is punctured. He also wants to paint it because it is so faded from the sun. It's laughable. The zodiac is a piece of junk. He could have saved so much time by just buying a decent used zodiac for a few hundred dollars more. There's so much work needed to be done inside the boat and the refrigerator needs to be bolted to the floor but the boards are broken under one side of it. I'm surprised how poorly planned this trip is. It's crazy because Alberto is very experienced and knows his technical stuff and logistics really well, but is a poor planner and very misinformed about nutrition. No one is going to convince me that a high sugar diet is essential when you're at sea. No one will convince me that top raman noodles, brownies, coca cola, and spam contain essential nutrients we need at sea.
Well, it's over. It's getting dark. It rained a lot today. There's a small leak above my bed that drips when it rains. Got on the water at least a little today with Ricardo. We went out on a tiny zodiac inflatable boat he was testing the engine on. We ended up having to row back to the dock because it overheated after about five minutes. Everything except the electronics and camera gear is being refurbished on this boat. I don't understand why he didn't get a better boat. he has spent more on the electronics than what the boat cost him. While we were re-rigging the anchors, I told the guys that I will have to go back to California and continue working there until this thing is ready to sail. I just don't have the time to be gone so long. It's a shame because we work so well together and I like working with them, plus I'm practicing my Portuguese which is surprisingly good.
Tomorrow morning I leave, and they don't even know it yet.
Bem, ja vou indo. Estou com sono mas antes de dormir vou tirar algumas fotos a fora.
Defeat, stupidity, deception, disappointment, anger, fear, distress, heartache, sorrow. That's me right now. It's time to pick up the pieces and move on. I made a very, very tough decision. I'm abandoning ship. Ricardo has no more minutes left on his phone so I found a pay phone about a mile away in front of the library and arranged a flight departing New York at 1:59 pm tomorrow, arriving to San Diego at 8:19 pm. Then I must face the reality and result of my actions. Sometimes I think that it would be better if I were a drug addict or drunk, then I could blame my failures on my habit. But instead I'm a hard-working honest man with a strong desire to do good and live a purposeful life full of passion. So what can I blame my failures on? I can't hide. It's all me. And especially this time. I stepped out and took a risk. I told a lot of people about this incredible trip and all the wonderful photos and video documentation we were to do, and it's over before it could begin.
The three of us - Ricardo, Felipe, and I had a talk this morning about the situation and how Alberto wants to do so much to the boat to get it ready and he overlooks the basics plus he's cheap about some things. The electronics are really good but other stuff is ridiculously cheap. For example, the zodiac inflatable boat he bought for one-hundred dollars. It is in terrible condition and requires several patches where it is punctured. He also wants to paint it because it is so faded from the sun. It's laughable. The zodiac is a piece of junk. He could have saved so much time by just buying a decent used zodiac for a few hundred dollars more. There's so much work needed to be done inside the boat and the refrigerator needs to be bolted to the floor but the boards are broken under one side of it. I'm surprised how poorly planned this trip is. It's crazy because Alberto is very experienced and knows his technical stuff and logistics really well, but is a poor planner and very misinformed about nutrition. No one is going to convince me that a high sugar diet is essential when you're at sea. No one will convince me that top raman noodles, brownies, coca cola, and spam contain essential nutrients we need at sea.
 |
| My sleeping quarters |
Well, it's over. It's getting dark. It rained a lot today. There's a small leak above my bed that drips when it rains. Got on the water at least a little today with Ricardo. We went out on a tiny zodiac inflatable boat he was testing the engine on. We ended up having to row back to the dock because it overheated after about five minutes. Everything except the electronics and camera gear is being refurbished on this boat. I don't understand why he didn't get a better boat. he has spent more on the electronics than what the boat cost him. While we were re-rigging the anchors, I told the guys that I will have to go back to California and continue working there until this thing is ready to sail. I just don't have the time to be gone so long. It's a shame because we work so well together and I like working with them, plus I'm practicing my Portuguese which is surprisingly good.
Tomorrow morning I leave, and they don't even know it yet.
Bem, ja vou indo. Estou com sono mas antes de dormir vou tirar algumas fotos a fora.
July 12, 2010 night
The "Elusive"
Is it a weak character, or am I just plain loyal? I didn't break the news. I was chicken. We are working so well together and they are really counting on me being part of the crew. When I returned to the boat this morning Alberto walked by me on his way to the bathroom.
"We are all working. Where have you been?", he scolds me in Portuguese.
"Levantei as cinco da manha", I answer back in his language. (I got up at 5 am.)
After eating a can of salmon and a handful of almonds and cocoa beans I get right to work sanding the boat. Actually not the whole boat, just the top rim that is painted a dark green.
As the sun rises in the sky the sweat drips more and more heavily. I recall my boss at a company I used to work at telling me that he could envision me on some far away beach sanding a boat like in the final scene of the film "the Shawshank Redemption". Well, now I'm doing it.
Zach, a neighbor who has his sailboat docked here at the marina, spent some time visiting us. He is quite a character. Reminds me of a cross between Christian Slater and Brian Van Holt (an actor I worked with who played the role of Butchie on the TV series "John from Cincinnati". Zach is quite experienced on the sea. He tells me of being caught by a tornado a little over a week ago while on his little sailboat outside of the harbor. He says that the dingy was lifted 10 feet out of the air.
Zach pulls out another can of Budweiser from an ice-filled bucket. There seems to be little that he doesn't reveal about himself. From his proud claim to frequent drug use and promiscuity to his history of being married and divorced five times. He tells me he's writing a novel based on his life experiences addressing topics such as politics and life at sea.
"So I understand you're the star of the show", he states adding that they are really counting on me to be a part of this project.
"Yes, we're supposed to do a documentary", I answer.
"What does your wife think about you being gone four or five months at sea?", he asks.
"Four or five months?", I exclaim. "It's only supposed to take two to three months."
Zach breaks down the itinerary to me addressing the fact that it's hurricane season and there will be times of slow progress, not to mention the total distance of 6,500 nautical miles. I start thinking about what Zach has said.
"If I didn't have children here, I would go in a heartbeat", Zach continues. "It's an opportunity of a lifetime."
Is it a weak character, or am I just plain loyal? I didn't break the news. I was chicken. We are working so well together and they are really counting on me being part of the crew. When I returned to the boat this morning Alberto walked by me on his way to the bathroom.
"We are all working. Where have you been?", he scolds me in Portuguese.
"Levantei as cinco da manha", I answer back in his language. (I got up at 5 am.)
After eating a can of salmon and a handful of almonds and cocoa beans I get right to work sanding the boat. Actually not the whole boat, just the top rim that is painted a dark green.
As the sun rises in the sky the sweat drips more and more heavily. I recall my boss at a company I used to work at telling me that he could envision me on some far away beach sanding a boat like in the final scene of the film "the Shawshank Redemption". Well, now I'm doing it.
 |
| "Shawshank Redemption II" |
Zach, a neighbor who has his sailboat docked here at the marina, spent some time visiting us. He is quite a character. Reminds me of a cross between Christian Slater and Brian Van Holt (an actor I worked with who played the role of Butchie on the TV series "John from Cincinnati". Zach is quite experienced on the sea. He tells me of being caught by a tornado a little over a week ago while on his little sailboat outside of the harbor. He says that the dingy was lifted 10 feet out of the air.
Zach pulls out another can of Budweiser from an ice-filled bucket. There seems to be little that he doesn't reveal about himself. From his proud claim to frequent drug use and promiscuity to his history of being married and divorced five times. He tells me he's writing a novel based on his life experiences addressing topics such as politics and life at sea.
"So I understand you're the star of the show", he states adding that they are really counting on me to be a part of this project.
"Yes, we're supposed to do a documentary", I answer.
"What does your wife think about you being gone four or five months at sea?", he asks.
"Four or five months?", I exclaim. "It's only supposed to take two to three months."
Zach breaks down the itinerary to me addressing the fact that it's hurricane season and there will be times of slow progress, not to mention the total distance of 6,500 nautical miles. I start thinking about what Zach has said.
"If I didn't have children here, I would go in a heartbeat", Zach continues. "It's an opportunity of a lifetime."
 |
| Zach (right) chatting with Ricardo and I on the "Elusive" |
Sunday, July 18, 2010
July 12, 2010 7:18 am
"The Elusive" Port Milford, CT
I get off the train at Milford and can't find a pay phone anywhere, so I proceed to walk to the harbor which is only about two blocks. Milford, by the way, is a charming town with a colonial flair and very clean and pleasant. I walk about half a mile with my 40-pound backpack, pulling a 50-pound suitcase, and a 6 1/2-foot PVC tube with four ocean fishing rods in it; over 100 pounds of gear. Sweat freely pours off my face and my layered clothes are soaked. (I'm wearing layers to save luggage space and weight).
Not knowing quite where the Port Milford Marina is and wishing to find a phone, I stop at a marine supply store on the harbor to ask if there exists a public phone in this town.
"There used to be one, but they pulled all the phones outta here some time ago", replied an older gentleman behind the counter.
"Is it a local call?", he then asks.
I tell him that I have one local number I can call but I don't think he will answer, referring to Bruce, the manager at Port Milford. Another man working there who is much younger takes me to the back phone. I show him Bruce's number and he dials.
No answer. I ask them if they know Bruce at Port Milford. "Yes", they affirm.
"Go left at the road there, then go left again and follow the road around and along the harbor. You will see it there", the young man directs me.
The walk seems to take an eternity. Having not slept in over 24 hours, thirsty, hungry, soaked in sweat I trudge along through a quiet residential area for nearly a mile with more than 100 pounds of baggage. As I approach a marina I notice a double-masted boat with three flags - a pirate flag, American flag, and Brazilian flag.
"That must be it", I thank to myself.
A hundred yards later the Port Milford sign leads me into the marina lot and there is "the Elusive" in the yard propped up in dry dock.
"Ricardo", I yell at the man I see on board.
He turns, "Chad", he shouts back.
Alberto and Felipe then appear from the other side of the bow as they were working on a deflated Zodiac inflatable boat. Ricardo descends from the boat and I shake hands with each of them for the first time. It already feels as though I've known them for a long time. We've been in contact for a few months by both email and telephone.
Alberto comments that I've brought too much luggage.
On board Alberto shows me around. The boat is a mess. For one, it's still in dry dock. There are parts strewn about along with tools, nuts and bolts. Down below is even worse with all counter space and beds covered with parts requiring assembly, tools, and equipment. Some floor boards are broken underneath the refrigerator which also needs to be secured to the floor. Some of the wood surrounding windows has bad water damage. The boat just appears to be far from ready to sail.
On a positive note, the navigational electronics is quite impressive. He has radio, radar, GPS tracking system, fish finders, satellite phones, loran, laptops, and lots of cameras.
I shed my gear in a room in the stern of the boat and grunt my anger. First impressions of the is are very bad. It's not so much the unfinished condition of the boat as it is the fact that for the past two weeks Alberto has been pressuring me to hurry up and get here so we can set sail. He had told me that the boat is ready and all that's missing is me.
I spend the day with them and better assess the situation. The whole afternoon was spent buying and stocking food in the boat. Alberto purchased $400 worth of various canned and packaged foods at a dollar store, most of which I wouldn't even eat anyway because of it's poor nutritional value. Spam, ham, cookies, pastas, canned fruit in syrup, canned veggies, brownie mix, white and brown rice, top raman, granola, and many, many more items. He did purchase some oatmeal and canned fish but far too little for such a long voyage. He also purchased some 40 3-liters bottles of soda and only 10 gallons of water. At only one gallon per person per day, this supply would last a mere two and a half days.
Alberto had previously told me to bring foods that don't need refrigeration or cooking, hence I planned on purchasing lots of canned fish, nuts, oats, and dried fruit for my meals, which is basically how I eat every day anyway. He became passionately opposed to my proposal stating that it's not practical for a voyage at sea, nor properly balanced nutritionally. I told him also that I don't drink soda, however, he insisted that it is better to drink soda than plain water. He begins teaching me about nutrition telling me that he made the food decisions for the good of all the crew and it will be a collective food supply shared by all. He further reiterates that I have no idea what it's like being on the sea sweating in the sun all day, that the body burns carbs very fast.
Out of respect I listen to his sermon on nutrition but I'm sure he can see my disagreement in my countenance. If he could only know how hard I work and how simple and healthy I regularly eat, thriving on canned fish, oats, nuts, raw cocoa beans, fresh fruits and vegetables. All this I eat without cooking or refrigerating. I find these primitive eating habits to give me the highest level of energy and health. In summary, I can now see that I will be lacking water and protein on this voyage.
Based on my personal assessment of this project we won't be ready to sail for at least a few more weeks. And I can only imagine what the situation will be with the boat in Florida. Alberto says it will take about two days to get ready, just like this boat.
"Just like this boat?", I think to myself.
They've been working on this boat for months already and there is still a lot of details to complete. There is no question that Alberto has cash. I don't know how he does it but I can't afford to hang out working on the boat for a few weeks here and then a few weeks on the boat in Florida before finally heading out to sea. I have no choice but to withdraw from this expedition until they are truly ready to sail. I will have to decide how to tell him.
Yes, I am losing money and a lot of time but I've gained some valuable experience as well. In the days leading up to this I dealt with a lot of fear and self-doubt. I worked hard to prepare and conquered by fears as I proceeded forward with good intentions. Maybe it's a cultural difference. In this life I've had to adapt to a very high stress, high activity, fast-paced lifestyle. I don't like it but if I want to eat, that's what I have to do. The South American lifestyle is far more relaxed.
Last night while lying down on the deck gazing up at the stars I enjoyed the sensation of the cool ocean breeze and scent of the sea that fills the air. Spending a day on the boat made me realize how much I would really love to sail. I can definitely see myself cruising the Caribbean Sea.
So now it's nearly 10 am and I've wandered a quarter of a mile and sat down on a low concrete wall under a shady tree along the waters edge. Ten brown-colored geese have congregated next to me as we share the shady protection from the sun's harsh rays. I write my final notes before breaking the news to my shipmates.
I get off the train at Milford and can't find a pay phone anywhere, so I proceed to walk to the harbor which is only about two blocks. Milford, by the way, is a charming town with a colonial flair and very clean and pleasant. I walk about half a mile with my 40-pound backpack, pulling a 50-pound suitcase, and a 6 1/2-foot PVC tube with four ocean fishing rods in it; over 100 pounds of gear. Sweat freely pours off my face and my layered clothes are soaked. (I'm wearing layers to save luggage space and weight).
Not knowing quite where the Port Milford Marina is and wishing to find a phone, I stop at a marine supply store on the harbor to ask if there exists a public phone in this town.
"There used to be one, but they pulled all the phones outta here some time ago", replied an older gentleman behind the counter.
"Is it a local call?", he then asks.
I tell him that I have one local number I can call but I don't think he will answer, referring to Bruce, the manager at Port Milford. Another man working there who is much younger takes me to the back phone. I show him Bruce's number and he dials.
No answer. I ask them if they know Bruce at Port Milford. "Yes", they affirm.
"Go left at the road there, then go left again and follow the road around and along the harbor. You will see it there", the young man directs me.
The walk seems to take an eternity. Having not slept in over 24 hours, thirsty, hungry, soaked in sweat I trudge along through a quiet residential area for nearly a mile with more than 100 pounds of baggage. As I approach a marina I notice a double-masted boat with three flags - a pirate flag, American flag, and Brazilian flag.
"That must be it", I thank to myself.
A hundred yards later the Port Milford sign leads me into the marina lot and there is "the Elusive" in the yard propped up in dry dock.
"Ricardo", I yell at the man I see on board.
He turns, "Chad", he shouts back.
Alberto and Felipe then appear from the other side of the bow as they were working on a deflated Zodiac inflatable boat. Ricardo descends from the boat and I shake hands with each of them for the first time. It already feels as though I've known them for a long time. We've been in contact for a few months by both email and telephone.
Alberto comments that I've brought too much luggage.
On board Alberto shows me around. The boat is a mess. For one, it's still in dry dock. There are parts strewn about along with tools, nuts and bolts. Down below is even worse with all counter space and beds covered with parts requiring assembly, tools, and equipment. Some floor boards are broken underneath the refrigerator which also needs to be secured to the floor. Some of the wood surrounding windows has bad water damage. The boat just appears to be far from ready to sail.
On a positive note, the navigational electronics is quite impressive. He has radio, radar, GPS tracking system, fish finders, satellite phones, loran, laptops, and lots of cameras.
I shed my gear in a room in the stern of the boat and grunt my anger. First impressions of the is are very bad. It's not so much the unfinished condition of the boat as it is the fact that for the past two weeks Alberto has been pressuring me to hurry up and get here so we can set sail. He had told me that the boat is ready and all that's missing is me.
I spend the day with them and better assess the situation. The whole afternoon was spent buying and stocking food in the boat. Alberto purchased $400 worth of various canned and packaged foods at a dollar store, most of which I wouldn't even eat anyway because of it's poor nutritional value. Spam, ham, cookies, pastas, canned fruit in syrup, canned veggies, brownie mix, white and brown rice, top raman, granola, and many, many more items. He did purchase some oatmeal and canned fish but far too little for such a long voyage. He also purchased some 40 3-liters bottles of soda and only 10 gallons of water. At only one gallon per person per day, this supply would last a mere two and a half days.
Alberto had previously told me to bring foods that don't need refrigeration or cooking, hence I planned on purchasing lots of canned fish, nuts, oats, and dried fruit for my meals, which is basically how I eat every day anyway. He became passionately opposed to my proposal stating that it's not practical for a voyage at sea, nor properly balanced nutritionally. I told him also that I don't drink soda, however, he insisted that it is better to drink soda than plain water. He begins teaching me about nutrition telling me that he made the food decisions for the good of all the crew and it will be a collective food supply shared by all. He further reiterates that I have no idea what it's like being on the sea sweating in the sun all day, that the body burns carbs very fast.
Out of respect I listen to his sermon on nutrition but I'm sure he can see my disagreement in my countenance. If he could only know how hard I work and how simple and healthy I regularly eat, thriving on canned fish, oats, nuts, raw cocoa beans, fresh fruits and vegetables. All this I eat without cooking or refrigerating. I find these primitive eating habits to give me the highest level of energy and health. In summary, I can now see that I will be lacking water and protein on this voyage.
Based on my personal assessment of this project we won't be ready to sail for at least a few more weeks. And I can only imagine what the situation will be with the boat in Florida. Alberto says it will take about two days to get ready, just like this boat.
"Just like this boat?", I think to myself.
They've been working on this boat for months already and there is still a lot of details to complete. There is no question that Alberto has cash. I don't know how he does it but I can't afford to hang out working on the boat for a few weeks here and then a few weeks on the boat in Florida before finally heading out to sea. I have no choice but to withdraw from this expedition until they are truly ready to sail. I will have to decide how to tell him.
Yes, I am losing money and a lot of time but I've gained some valuable experience as well. In the days leading up to this I dealt with a lot of fear and self-doubt. I worked hard to prepare and conquered by fears as I proceeded forward with good intentions. Maybe it's a cultural difference. In this life I've had to adapt to a very high stress, high activity, fast-paced lifestyle. I don't like it but if I want to eat, that's what I have to do. The South American lifestyle is far more relaxed.
Last night while lying down on the deck gazing up at the stars I enjoyed the sensation of the cool ocean breeze and scent of the sea that fills the air. Spending a day on the boat made me realize how much I would really love to sail. I can definitely see myself cruising the Caribbean Sea.
So now it's nearly 10 am and I've wandered a quarter of a mile and sat down on a low concrete wall under a shady tree along the waters edge. Ten brown-colored geese have congregated next to me as we share the shady protection from the sun's harsh rays. I write my final notes before breaking the news to my shipmates.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
July 11, 2010 10:07 AM EDT
Metro-North subway train - Grand Central Terminal to Milford Connecticut
Standing here, leaning over the bar counter of the subway train headed for Milford I watch as the ticket lady walks down the center of the subway cars collecting tickets. She just took mine a few moments ago. I'm trying to identify what a typical New Yorker looks like. So far I have no conclusion and I may never since my short visit in New York is already almost over. My connecting flight from Philadelphia to Laguardia airport in a twin engine prop plane arrived at about 8am. I then took the Express bus to Grand Central Terminal. Wow! The Big Apple. I have to say, you haven't seen a big city until you've seen New York. And I thought LA was big. My perspective has forever changed. Real estate must cost a fortune here, and not a single square inch is unused. I think every person visiting New York for the first time would suffer a strained neck injury for constantly peering up at the skyscrapers which literally scrape the sky as they seem to compete for sunshine like tall canopy trees of the Amazon.
There actually is a bar on this train but they only serve drinks during the evening rush hour on weekdays. A menu has prices posted for beer and wine. Beers from 2.75 and wine costs 5.50. Juice and sodas are also served. I overheard one of the passengers say that only the Connecticut trains have a bar.
It's an hour and a half ride to get to Milford. From there I will contact Ricardo to have someone pick me up and take me to the boat.
Standing here, leaning over the bar counter of the subway train headed for Milford I watch as the ticket lady walks down the center of the subway cars collecting tickets. She just took mine a few moments ago. I'm trying to identify what a typical New Yorker looks like. So far I have no conclusion and I may never since my short visit in New York is already almost over. My connecting flight from Philadelphia to Laguardia airport in a twin engine prop plane arrived at about 8am. I then took the Express bus to Grand Central Terminal. Wow! The Big Apple. I have to say, you haven't seen a big city until you've seen New York. And I thought LA was big. My perspective has forever changed. Real estate must cost a fortune here, and not a single square inch is unused. I think every person visiting New York for the first time would suffer a strained neck injury for constantly peering up at the skyscrapers which literally scrape the sky as they seem to compete for sunshine like tall canopy trees of the Amazon.
There actually is a bar on this train but they only serve drinks during the evening rush hour on weekdays. A menu has prices posted for beer and wine. Beers from 2.75 and wine costs 5.50. Juice and sodas are also served. I overheard one of the passengers say that only the Connecticut trains have a bar.
It's an hour and a half ride to get to Milford. From there I will contact Ricardo to have someone pick me up and take me to the boat.
Busy and infrequent internet connection....
Sorry, I'm a bit behind posting new happenings. Will get caught up soon. Check out the next posts coming soon.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Journal entry - July 10, 2010
US Airways flight San Diego to New York's Laguardia airport
Mixed emotions coincide with a slight turbulence in the sky. Based on how long we've been in the air I assume we are over the desert approaching the eastern border of California. Without a doubt this is already proving to be the most difficult adventure of my life. Let's see - I'm 37 years old. If everything goes as planned I will be spending my 38th birthday somewhere in Brazil, most likely in the northeast around Recife or even more north possibly near the Amazon. My birthday isn't until August 30th.
Allow me to explain. I'm on my way to New York, in an airplane that has departed from San Diego. But I'm not staying in New York. Instead I'm going to figure out the public transportation system and go to Milford, Connecticut. There awaits a vessel that will be home for at least two months. The "Elusive" is a 38-foot cruising sailboat that has been docked while being prepped for an epic sea adventure. I will accompany three or four other sailors as we sail along the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean traveling from one continent to another. Port Milford in Connecticut is the point of departure and Sao Paulo, Brazil is the target.
But this is much more than a sailing voyage. This will be a test of human endurance, discipline, courage, strength and creativity. We must perform well under adverse conditions. My fellow crew members and I will have to become like a single unit working together like a complex high performance machine.
In addition to sailing, our objective is to create a documentary of the entire trip and I, specifically, will be photographically documenting everything of everyday, from photojournalism to creating a library of images of marine life encountered along the way.
Fishing will be the recreational activity of choice as well as the main source of food. We will stop at several ports and islands along the way for supplies and to do diving on coral reefs and cays. There are over 7000 islands, cays and islets in the Caribbean, too many to choose from. Maybe I'll dress as Johnny Depp's character of Jack Sparrow as we leave Florida to sail through the Caribbean Sea like pirates of the 16th century.
Underneath all the tension and emotional guilt a sense of excitement begins to surface. I worked very hard to prepare for this but I'm really not quite ready yet. Maybe I'm just not emotionally ready. Saying goodbye was hard but it happened so fast that the realization of what is happening didn't hit me until now.
My eyes swell with tears as a recall the last days I spent with my family. Regrettingly, the time pressure prevented me from having much relaxed family time with my wife and kids. My wife's tears as I left remind me of her immense love for me and her never-ending support as I search for success in this world, taking on new risks, hoping for a reward sufficient enough to sustain us in an increasingly difficult society. Like the first explorers I'm searching for a new route. Maybe I'll discover a new world.
Mixed emotions coincide with a slight turbulence in the sky. Based on how long we've been in the air I assume we are over the desert approaching the eastern border of California. Without a doubt this is already proving to be the most difficult adventure of my life. Let's see - I'm 37 years old. If everything goes as planned I will be spending my 38th birthday somewhere in Brazil, most likely in the northeast around Recife or even more north possibly near the Amazon. My birthday isn't until August 30th.
Allow me to explain. I'm on my way to New York, in an airplane that has departed from San Diego. But I'm not staying in New York. Instead I'm going to figure out the public transportation system and go to Milford, Connecticut. There awaits a vessel that will be home for at least two months. The "Elusive" is a 38-foot cruising sailboat that has been docked while being prepped for an epic sea adventure. I will accompany three or four other sailors as we sail along the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean traveling from one continent to another. Port Milford in Connecticut is the point of departure and Sao Paulo, Brazil is the target.
But this is much more than a sailing voyage. This will be a test of human endurance, discipline, courage, strength and creativity. We must perform well under adverse conditions. My fellow crew members and I will have to become like a single unit working together like a complex high performance machine.
In addition to sailing, our objective is to create a documentary of the entire trip and I, specifically, will be photographically documenting everything of everyday, from photojournalism to creating a library of images of marine life encountered along the way.
Fishing will be the recreational activity of choice as well as the main source of food. We will stop at several ports and islands along the way for supplies and to do diving on coral reefs and cays. There are over 7000 islands, cays and islets in the Caribbean, too many to choose from. Maybe I'll dress as Johnny Depp's character of Jack Sparrow as we leave Florida to sail through the Caribbean Sea like pirates of the 16th century.
Underneath all the tension and emotional guilt a sense of excitement begins to surface. I worked very hard to prepare for this but I'm really not quite ready yet. Maybe I'm just not emotionally ready. Saying goodbye was hard but it happened so fast that the realization of what is happening didn't hit me until now.
My eyes swell with tears as a recall the last days I spent with my family. Regrettingly, the time pressure prevented me from having much relaxed family time with my wife and kids. My wife's tears as I left remind me of her immense love for me and her never-ending support as I search for success in this world, taking on new risks, hoping for a reward sufficient enough to sustain us in an increasingly difficult society. Like the first explorers I'm searching for a new route. Maybe I'll discover a new world.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
"All men die. Few men ever live."
They say two things are certain - taxes and death. That's a pretty grim outlook but facts we can not avoid nonetheless. So, then, I guess we better make the most of the time we each have and use our talents to the maximum of our potential for a good outcome. Each person has unique abilities and it would be a shame to go through life without even unwrapping the unique gifts we are blessed with. We must seize the gifts God has given us and live life to the fullest blessing the people we encounter along our journey. Life is too short and the time is now!
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