Saturday, August 27, 2016

How Life Can Suck - When You're Ten

We don't fish at most of the tropical islands that we visit. Either there is fish poisoning in the vicinity - ciguatera - or Alisa and I, being the concerned marine biologists we are, cannot stand the idea of adding one more insult to some over-exploited reef ecosystem or another.

So Elias' tropical fishing has largely been confined to the very passive undertaking that is trolling on passage.

But here at Ascension Island (we're at Ascension, by the way) things are different. Everyone tells us that there is absolutely no ciguatera here. And the water below Galactic, just off the town pier, is HEAVING with fish. Most of these are trigger fish that would not excite a gourmand, but there are also any number of jacks and groupers below the boat.

And those wonderful fish are desperately happy to snarf up any lure that is inexpertly dangled off the side by a 6- or 10-year-old sailor.

Elias has been sooo happy at the idea of providing meals for the family through his own efforts. On our first day here he kept me busy clubbing and butchering fish. I even got into the act and speared a nice something-or-other while standing on the jupe.

But on that first night, when I moved onto the third fish that had made it onto the table - the larger of two grouper that Elias had caught - something funny happened. My lips went numb. Ever so slightly, but definitely.

This is one of the first signs of ciquatera exposure.

So the fish went over the side.

I heroically forewent my second beer of the evening. (Alcohol is verboten in situations of ciguater exposure.) But I showed no other symptoms. And no one else had eaten of that fish yet.

I'm pretty sure that the there isn't ciguatera here. But Alisa and I, having gotten this far by relying on our own judgement, were not going to ignore the evidence of our own experience. So grouper are now off the list of permitted species for anyone catching fish from Galactic.

And of course, you can guess. Elias spent most of today trying very diplomatically, for a fish-crazed ten-year-old, to talk his parents into a reconsideration. And then when we came back to the boat this afternoon, he brought up a very fine grouper on a handline. I used the pliers to get the hook out of the fish, but it didn't go well. The fish was hooked in a gill, and went drifting off lethargically when I finally had it back in the water.

It was too much for Elias. He retreated to his cabin in tears. To have fishing *that good* and to not be able to keep the fish! When everyone knows there is no ciguatera at Ascension!

After he'd been shut away in his cabin for a while I called him out and had a try at a comforting paternal talk. I commiserated with him over how terribly unfair the situation was. And then I patiently explained that things would occasionally suck like that for the rest of his life.

I hope it helped.
This post was sent via our high-frequency radio as we're far from internet range. Pictures to follow when we reach internet again. We can't respond to comments for now, though we do see them all!

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

You Have To Zoom Out - A LOT

So said Miles, good friend to Galactic and to Pelagic as well, after he had a look at St. Helena on the map and reported on what is required to get any other land onto the screen at the same time.

Just now we are 850 nm from Liberia and 1350 from Brazil. There's a lot of water around us, whichever way you go.

The South Atlantic is lonely. As lonely as the South Pacific, and more depauperate in islands as well.

We have reached the realm of sensual tropical sailing, here at 9°S in the Austral winter. After weeks of overcast, we are making our way across a heavenly-blue sea under a cloud-flecked sky. Flying fish occasionally explode from the waves before us, and the ones that end up on deck during the night are recruited to our frying pan. The boys are getting along - the bickering and constant turf-marking that has driven me crazy on some of our past passages hasn't been in evidence. This morning before dawn I jibed while everyone else slept. A light drizzle had come up, and I took off my shirt to keep it dry and found myself comfortable, shirtless, in light rain in the night. A welcoming, caressing temperature that is effortless to exist in, and still after all these years capable of unmanning an exiled Alaskan at the sheer delight of it.

Ascension Island tomorrow.
This post was sent via our high-frequency radio as we're far from internet range. Pictures to follow when we reach internet again. We can't respond to comments for now, though we do see them all!

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Friday, August 19, 2016

Butchering Helena

That title comes from our friend Leiv, who was referring to his record-fast sail from the Falklands to the Aleutians this year. He plowed through the canales of Chile so quickly that he told us he had utterly "butchered" the experience and would have to return again some day.

So it has been with us and St. Helena, this completely delightful bit of volcanic-English rock in the middle of the South Atlantic.

We could easily have spent three weeks here, but only spent three days. Nine years into our sailing lives, we on Galactic have fallen into that beginner's fault of being on a schedule.

But! We will thrive on that energy of being at sea, and when we set sail for Ascension today, I trust it will be without regret, and with delight at the traveling microcosm that Galactic is for the family. Wherever that boat goes, we are at home!

Below: Elias' 10th birthday Sea Shepherd cake, his first-ever mahi mahi, landfall at St. Helena, a celebratory pie on the high street, and Jamestown from above.

Viva! Onwards!