Money management for cruisers Friday 24 Apr 20

Tomorrow is Isabel’s birthday. Happy birthday Isabel! Send her a short note! WDG9444@SAILMAIL.COM (case sensitive). No emojis, no attachments – won’t get through. I’d buy her something for her big day, but there’s nothing here to buy.

 

Spending while cruising is weird. We left Nuku Hiva over 6 weeks ago and until Monday didn’t spend a nickle. Well not entirely true, as we have some automatic debits from our checking account and credit card (love those points), but honestly. We spent a bunch of money to provision for a couple of months before leaving Nuku Hiva, and we finally got to buy some groceries on Monday. Raroia has a tiny shop to support the 187 local inhabitants plus the punters that sail into the atoll.

 

Glad we brought a pile of cash, because there isn’t an ATM on this atoll. No bank either. The local post office also serves as a bank for locals, but don’t go in there expecting to cash a check. This situation helped us realize how difficult it can be to buy stuff if one doesn’t carry cash.

 

Other cruisers here without enough cash on hand tried to use Transferwise to send money to the shop keepers account. Didn’t work, money was returned. Kiwis succeeded by using XE.COM.  Sounded good – I created an account on XE.COM yesterday just to discover that they can’t transfer money from a US bank account to a French Polynesian bank account. US banking regulations make life hard sometimes.

 

We’re hoping to engage the services of a “personal shopper service”, a lady in Tahiti who we can email our grocery list to, then she’ll run around to all the stores to buy stuff, package it all up and take it to the supply ship, pay the transportation fee, then bill us for the total. She’ll trust that we’ll pay. As we like to know we can pay our obligations, we’re trying to find a way to transfer money from our account to hers. So far, no way we can do it from our account, but our pal Angus in Strasbourg does business with several French banks and may be able to help.

 

So now we’re doing this silly kabuki dance to see if Angus can transfer a single Euro from his bank to the shopper lady’s bank. If that works, we’ll see if he can do the same to the local shop keeper’s post office bank account. If successful we’re golden and we’ll just PayPal Angus money for groceries and he’ll do his thing to transfer money within the French / French Polynesia banking system. Angus is a great guy – one of Isabel’s old boyfriends, sailing pals, whatever, and welcome in our tiny floating home anytime.

 

Internet access is spotty out here, and bandwidth so poor that often it’s impossible to login to a bank website. The connection is so slow that the website security won’t play ball. We’ve taken to putting a large credit on our charge card account so we never pay a late fee if we can’t login for a couple of months. We make sure there’s plenty of green in our checking account so the automatic debits for health insurance and such are properly funded for several months.

 

It all takes a bit of thinking and planning ahead to keep the bills paid so that Spotify and Google Fi and Predictwind continue working month after month. In the meantime, except for groceries and a little fuel, we’re not spending anything. That’ll change if we ever make it to Tahiti and go for the big provisioning trip at Carrefour and other vendors, and of course we’ll have to drink some overpriced craft beer at Les Trois Brasseurs in Papeete. It’ll really change if we make it to New Zealand and haul out for bottom paint – a few thousand bucks will disappear in a flash.

 

Out here an annual budget makes sense, but a monthly budget is useless. We either can’t spend anything or we’re spending like drunken sailors. That is, if we can figure out how to put our money in someone else’s hands. Maybe they’ll let us sail to Makemo next week – there’s a bank machine there!

Faith and cruising Friday 24 Apr 20

Just before we sailed from Nuku Hiva to Raroia we heard from an accountant at Viking, the company that sold us our life raft in February 2019. During an audit they seemed to discover they had shipped us a raft but failed to charge our credit card, or at least couldn’t find evidence of the transaction in their records. We spent something like $40,000 on a major refit November 2018 – March 2019, and the life raft cost $3070. As the credit card statements rolled in we checked for fraudulent charges then paid the bill. We bled money for months, using a couple of credit cards, Transferwise and bank wire transfers to pay for stuff including a new mainsail from Sri Lanka and new rudders from Vietnam. So when the folks at Viking contacted me to request a receipt for our purchase, I forwarded them the email they sent me that stated the raft would be shipped after the payment was received. That didn’t seem to satisfy them, and for the last 6 weeks we’ve been either on passage or in self-isolation with absolutely no way to get online and research all our transactions for early 2019.

 

Theoretically we’ve had a loaner life raft on board for over a year! In any case, Viking decided to go ahead and charge us (maybe again?) for the raft before I had a chance to thoroughly examine all our records online – no space on JollyDogs to keep paper statements, and we don’t download digital statements each month. I found Viking’s business practices a bit sloppy and deplorable; nevertheless I finally got the silly VINI hotspot total crap internet to work for a couple of hours yesterday and satisfied myself that Viking had really screwed up and we weren’t going to pay twice.

 

During the back and forth email discussion Viking actually noted that regardless of their screw up I wasn’t “entitled” to a free life raft. That comment kind of heated me up, but it also got me thinking about the concept of faith. Not religious stuff, I’m not into that. Faith in the quality of the stuff we buy for the boat. Just because I can be cranky, in my last reply to Viking where I noted I’d finally had the opportunity to do my due diligence in researching all our 2019 financial transactions, I also noted that there was no assurance that the big valise Viking shipped to us contained anything more than someone’s dirty laundry. Ever the wise guy, I further added that should we make that unfortunate discovery, we’d likely not be around to express our displeasure to Viking. Sure hope we never find out what’s in that valise.

 

Everywhere I look around JollyDogs there are devices, structures and systems that we take on faith were built to the manufacturer’s specification. Something as simple as an anchoring system consists of the anchor, swivel, shackles, chain, chain hook with more shackles and bridle, all attaching to “hard points” up on the bows. We take it on faith that the quality control applied during the manufacture of these various bits and bobs guarantees our safety. I think it was the anchor manufacturer Rocna who some years back moved production to China, then ended up selling a batch of anchors made of inferior steel. Didn’t do their reputation any favors and perhaps contributed to loss of a vessel. Anchor chain is also something to be wary of, as are shackles. Don’t buy cheap, buy good steel from reputable manufacturers that implement strong quality control measures.

 

We’ve got solar panels and chargers and controllers and relays and batteries that could catch fire if a device malfunctions. We could run aground in turbid water if a depth finder is faulty or if the chart plotter fails to flag a GPS navigation failure. The list of potential equipment or systems failures is endless. What if a standing rigging component fails catastrophically and the mast falls? That could easily kill someone.

 

We have to put our trust in the design engineers, the manufacturing folks and their quality control processes. That’s the kind of faith I’m talkin’ about.

Our ship finally came in! Tuesday 21 Apr 20

Well we put our order into the local shopkeeper here in Raroia via email a couple weeks ago and got a very friendly response the same evening. It was a Friday. Maybe after happy hour. Anyway, the supply ship came on Sunday and Monday we followed a couple of our other cruiser pal boats down to the village – they had already worked out a course through the minefield of bommies, and it just seemed just plain sensible to follow along rather than blaze our own trail. Glad we did too, as there were a couple of sneakers along the way. Fortunately the sun was out for the most hazardous part so we could spot the boat sinking hazards with plenty of time to spare.

 

Got to the village, dropped the hook, set the chain floats and pulled down hard. All set. The town policeman had come down to the quai to check on us and waved us ashore. As the only fluent speaker of French, Isabel represented us – we dinghied up to the quai and got the skinny from “the man” who was completely friendly and accommodating, having received our details via text a couple days before. We motored back to brief the other folks then packed up our shopping bags and computer bits and headed ashore. Been a long time since we’ve seen anyone who didn’t live on a sailboat.

 

We finally found the tiny shop hidden a bit off a street, and Isabel settled in to wait her turn. Apparently only one at a time being admitted due to Covid-19 restrictions. I wandered down to the post office to purchase some internet time from the local VINI hotspot. Around $30 got 10 hours of connection time with no guarantee of any specific bandwidth, and although it’s turned out to be pretty poor speed the banking is all done, the mail is checked and being scanned, the bills are paid, and email is caught up. The signal is so weak I have to sit no more than about 30 meters from the post office where the router lives.

 

Turns out the shop claims to have lost our shopping list so rather than get what we wanted we got what they were willing to sell us. Naturally they’re not going to sell us stuff reserved for the other cruisers whose lists they didn’t lose, or stuff they need to keep in reserve for local inhabitants use. Also the ship didn’t bring much in the way of fresh vegetables and no alcoholic beverages, and only beverages 14% alcohol by volume and below can be sold, i.e. no Tahitian rum. Bummer dude, but them’s the breaks. All in all, Isabel is pleased with her purchases, we’ve still got about half our cash left, and it’ll be a few weeks until the next ship comes. In the meantime we’re working on getting the money transfer process worked out to pay the personal shopper in Tahiti, which means we’ve got to work through our pal Angus who lives in Strasbourg and banks with a couple of French banks. Hopefully one of them can transfer money to a French Polynesian bank, because Transferwise can’t and PayPal isn’t an option here. That’s a tough nut to crack and one that cruisers need to understand up front. As usual cash is king, but many atolls and the entire Gambier have no cash machines and locals actually bank with the local post office. We’re hoping to figure out what French or French Polynesian banks can move money to the post office so we have that option to pay local store keepers.

 

We’re still not allowed to move between islands until at least April 29^th, the 2-week extension from the original 15 April quarantine requirement. When we are finally allowed perhaps we’ll sail the 70 nm to Makemo and reprovision there before joining some friends in Tahanea, an uninhabited atoll on the way to Fakarava. At this point we just want good weather and suitable locations for kite boarding. It’ll be months before we know if we can sail through Tonga or Fiji on our way to New Zealand but we’re optimistic that NZ will open up to cruisers by October. American Samoa is the other option for stopping along the way but they’ve got a measles problem so we’ll need jabs for that.

 

Get to work Kal!

The joy of Spotify Premium Saturday 18 Apr 20

Shawnee thinks JollyDogs has a pretty darn good stereo. I concur and to celebrate purchased a $9.95/mo subscription to Spotify so we could download music to play offline. The fine print claims internet access is required every 30 days so the company can determine which artists get paid royalties based upon what we play, and if one doesn’t check in the account is suspended. I took that to mean the songs would all disappear from our phones, but it hasn’t happened so I’m tickled pink. When we’re not working on our guitar playing skills, we’re playing the stereo, something we’ve already mastered.

 

Spotify’s AI algorithms have helped me discover artists that I may have heard but didn’t know the band name. Perhaps for obvious reasons we both like music with a lot of acoustic guitar picking. Welcome to “The Lumineers” and “Zac Brown Band”. Completely different kinds of music, love ‘em both.

 

Growing up during the Vietnam war, much of the rock and folk music was blatantly of the war protest genre. Not too long ago the Dixie Chicks were ostracized by a portion of “red blooded ‘mericans” for their protest of W’s adventurist war efforts. I admire them for having the cojones to stand up for what they believed in but in our modern age of nasty discourse they got death threats for their views. Funnily enough Zac Brown Band released a song back during W’s wars that, when I listen to it, was a not so subtle poke at the public supporting the war. It’s entitled “Chicken Fried”, a great two-steppin’ rockabilly tune with a couple of lines that get my attention,. First “there’s no dollar sign on peace of mind”, and the more interesting one, “salute the ones who die, the ones who give their lives, so we don’t have to sacrifice all the things we love, like our chicken fried, and cold beer on a Friday night, a pair of jeans that fit just right, and our radio on”. The song continues with more serious sentiments, but essentially thanks soldiers for going to die so the rest of us won’t be inconvenienced. Seems ironic to me.

 

The Lumineers have song called “Charlie Boy”. It’s about the lead singer’s uncle who he never met, a young man with big plans and ambitions of becoming a doctor. JFK was president then and made one of his many beautiful and inspirational speeches with the now-famous line “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country”. JFK inspired Charlie to put his plans aside and serve his country, so he joined up, went to Vietnam and got himself killed just like a lot of other Americans. The singer notes how much he admired the sacrifice of the uncle he never met, and he goes on to point out that “the words of our leaders, they really do matter”.

 

These days the American president does occasionally make a speech that inspires some of the people. It would seem that he is such a polarizing personality that those who love him would almost offer him their virginal daughters, while those that hate him find fault with everything his administration does. The liberal media propaganda machine jumps on every asinine tweet and public statement such as one during a recent Covid-19 press briefing where he seemed to believe he had dictatorial authority. The conservative media propaganda machine pretended nothing ever happened. Thoughtful journalists who note his behavior and statements and perhaps comment that nobody would willingly raise their children to behave like him earn labels like “liberal do-gooder”, “fake news”, etc.

 

Barak Obama was quite the orator, as was JFK and Ronald Reagan. They all understood the power of words and stories just like The Lumineers and Zac Brown Band. The current US president understands the power of bullying, is a master manipulator and ensures he’s the elephant in the 24/7 news cycle room.

 

The best news is that we cruisers have to try to really hard to even hear about his latest flatulence or the propaganda machine’s reactions. Self-isolation has some real benefits.

Cruiser communication methods and individual privacy Saturday 18 Apr 20

Back when a switchboard operator was required to place long-distance telephone calls my sister worked as operator on one of those old multiple plug switchboards, in a room full of them along with their human operators. Lots of wealthy folks had summer houses in the beautiful Great Smokey Mountains where we lived. One day Bert Reynolds placed a long-distance call to someone, and Lisa said every operator in the room plugged in to evesdrop. We had what was called a party line at our house and found out after a few years that a nosy neighbor had been monitoring calls for years, discovering that a couple of college girls living in our basement were lesbians. Scandalous! Local rednecks did not approve! We thought it was mildly interesting but other people’s sexual preferences ain’t none of our bidness.

 

Telephone technology improved a bit and eventually I reckon everyone had a private line, with the equal expectation of “privacy” in what they said on the phone. In the US, law enforcement officials were, and I do believe still are required to get a search warrant to monitor and record individual conversations. That said, a pal whose brother is an FBI agent noted his brother has repeatedly stated “it is wise to assume that the government knows everything about you including what you’re saying”. Perhaps the distinction is that unless a warrant was in place while the written email or verbal conversation was being monitored and recorded, the evidence is not admissible in court. Since 9-11 Americans have relinquished much of their personal privacy in the name of “keeping us safe”, and perhaps in some cases our lawmakers sold us down the road.

 

Often voice and data communications are transmitted using microwave (radio frequency or RF) data links rather than wire or fibre optic. We all use our cell phones with the presumption that we’re not being monitored and recorded. Osama Bin Laden knew that was just plain silly and used handwritten notes carried by trusted runners.

 

RF communications using single sideband (SSB) or HAM radio are in the PUBLIC DOMAIN. Internet connect receivers all over the world often provide real-time feeds to anyone out of RF range or without radio equipment. Any pilot knows and accepts that all RF communications with air traffic control are recorded. A pal of mine called 911 once and the recording of his call actually made the local TV news.

 

Recently we had a kerfuffle with our local SSB net when one net controller elected to record, curate and post our net to a closed Facebook group. His objective was to create digital access for current or former cruisers, family, etc. to listen on their own schedule rather than our silly time zone. Perhaps otherwise disconnected folks might find comfort in hearing our voices during the pandemic. Unfortunately he didn’t feel it necessary to poll the net participants, hear and address their concerns and build concensus before going live. A revolt by the “anti-Facebook, anti-recording” boats ensued, the net administrator quit, then the guy who had hatched the project quit. In the middle was the rest of us who either didn’t really care one way or the other or wanted to make sure we better understood the project controls. Somehow I ended up as the “temporary net administrator”. Now we’re short of net controllers and it’s safe to say my diplomatic skills won’t land me a post in the foreign service.

 

The poor behavior and downright petulance demonstrated by everyone who quit was disheartening and counterproductive. The point that the “anti” side made about how this was probably illegal and might keep folks who might SOMEDAY finally participate in the net rather than listening without ever contributing was downright ridiculous.

 

Cruisers use VHF, SSB and HAM RF to communicate with maritime officials, seek emergency help, or just to check in with their friends. If you’re afraid of radios or who’s listening, this isn’t the life for you.

Cruising and the art of risk assessment Thursday 16 Apr 20

During my career as a flight test director at a giant aerospace company, a team of us worked together to develop prototype helicopters. The last few years a small team of us focused on converting a combat proven airframe into an “optionally piloted” asset. The team generally consisted of the project test pilot, lead electrical systems integrator, lead structural and design engineers, flight controls engineers, and a systems safety representative. Besides the project test pilot, several others amongst our team were pilots of some sort from Vietnam era combat veterans or from a civil training environment. The new flight control system was like student pilot that might try to kill the flight instructor, something we could easily imagine.

 

When we hatched a new idea for a flight test concept, perhaps to perform and demonstrate some new system integration effort, we developed a test plan then gathered to brainstorm about the risks that might be incurred during the execution of the flight test. In retrospect the risks we identified were driven by our combined imaginations and experience. For every risk we identified, we had to assess both the likelihood a “bad” event might occur, and the severity of the outcome. Likelihood was generally considered as the chance of an occurrence either in terms of flight hours or perhaps during specific maneuvers such as takeoffs and landings where a sudden flight control malfunction might leave the test pilot with precious little time to recover the helicopter before contacting terrain. Severity of the event was judged from “scared us” to “damage the flight test asset” to “somebody gets killed”.

 

We filled out the risk assessment forms, attached them to the test plan, then circulated the package to various department heads for evaluation and concurrence. Sometimes we got pushback that we had missed a potential risk, sometimes that our estimate of the frequency or severity was off. Catastrophic risks or severe, risks that might occur above a frequency level forced a safety of flight review board, a big expensive meeting that was meant to exploit the collective knowledge and experience of all the available gray hairs.

 

Occasionally during the execution of a flight test program some event would occur that got our attention – something nobody had ever even imagined. We never hurt or killed anyone, but we did scare ourselves more than once.

 

Cruising is a bit like that. We think about the risks such as someone going overboard, contacting undersea terrain, being caught out in extreme weather, maybe a sudden fire on board, and we put tools and procedures in place to minimize the chance of anything bad happening and a reaction plan if it all goes wrong. Based upon a history of past claims our insurance provider provides us with a laundry list of risk items that might result in damage or loss of JollyDogs. In that regard, they’ve got more experience than plenty of long-time sailors.

 

A couple of things have come up recently, things we didn’t anticipate. Recently I was out paddling a SUP and got attacked by a shark. Scratch one SUP and nearly soiled my swim trunks. Swing and a miss. The other is the current shortage of food provisions in French Polynesia. Isabel did a great job of provisioning at Nuku Hiva before we departed there five weeks ago, but eggs and leafy greens don’t last forever. Four days after sailing from Nuku Hiva we arrived at Raroia where self-isolation was just going into effect. Now the frequency of supply ships has reduced by about half, and there are shortages of various staples. How long it may last, nobody knows. We’ve got another month of provisions on board, but meals are getting less interesting and less nutritious.

 

We failed to identify either of these risks. Our knowledge of shark behavior is poor but increasing rapidly. We’ve never endured a global pandemic. We lacked the experience or imagination to envision what’s now happening.

 

Kind of like a couple of those flight test events.

The impact of environmental noise Monday 13 Apr 20

This morning we awoke to dead calm conditions. Not a breath of air moving around, flat calm water, perfect visibility. JollyDogs is wandering very gently around perhaps due to tidal currents. For a while there was a bommie just off the stern, plenty deep enough for keel clearance, and teaming with colorful reef fish. It’s nice to enjoy morning coffee while watching colorful little fishies tooling around, just going about their day.

 

If we remain still there’s almost no sound and we can hear our own breathing, hear the blood rushing through our ears. In a former life I did a lot of acoustic development on prototype cars; this is like being in an anechoic chamber. My first experience in the one at North Carolina State University back during grad school was an absolutely bizarre experience, a total lack of anything but self-generated sound.

 

There’s a lot of research into the impact of noise on human stress responses. Noise is most typically thought of as undesired sound, but in reality it includes inaudible vibration, light stimulation from computer screens, and these days access to an overabundance of real-time information and mis-information, whether it’s Siri or OK Google or Alexa, the mind numbing 24/7 news cycle on radio and TV, or internet cranks. Mental, emotional and physical health problems are almost certainly partly caused by all the noise most of us experience in a routine day. Certainly in the US this must account to some extent for the increasing rate of murder, suicide and even perhaps mass shootings.

 

Sleep hygienists now recognize that looking a computer screen near the beginning of a natural sleep cycle disturbs our ability to fall asleep or enjoy a good night’s rest. Most computers and devices now include a nighttime setting that allows the user to reduce the amount of blue light waves emanating from the screen. It’s obvious that stimulation such as an action movie will get one’s mind busy and preclude getting to sleep just afterwards.

The best thing about cruising Sunday 12 Apr 20

There are lot of strange folks out there, and personally I find religious extremists to be some of the worst. There’s a small church full of nutters in the US, I think in Kansas, that for years were attending funerals for US service people. They would wave signs and chant slogans saying that God was punishing those folks because of policies allowing gays to serve in the military. Imagine being a bereaved husband or wife or child and having to put up with that noise and image during your loved one’s funeral. Those idiots are probably ranting right now about how God sent the coronavirus to punish us all for our sins.

 

Guns are a big deal in America with the fight about second amendment rights creating a wedge issue that both parties exploit. The metrics demonstrate that long guns with large capacity magazines don’t account for many lost lives at all. Still, mass killings are an emotional issue and the 24/7 news cycle goes berserk, with CNN raving about assault weapons and Fox siding with the NRA. Handguns are implicated in plenty of suicides, but that’s a mental health issue which doesn’t swing enough votes.

 

Evangelical Christians make up a minority of Americans but they’ve got it in their heads that Christian traditions, rights and values are under attack in America, so that’s become another wedge issue for voters. Try being out as an atheist in America and see how comfortable those Christians make life for you.

 

Healthcare is another big wedge issue in America. It would seem the economy would benefit from a healthy, productive population but the effort to provide universal healthcare to all Americans has been tagged with the evil “socialism” label by Republican strategists. Oddly enough the latest pandemic might turn this into an issue that benefits Democrats in 2020 as the economy is crashing and millions of folks are losing their jobs along with whatever healthcare option their jobs might have provided.

 

There’s been an odd pushback against scientists and technical experts in the US for quite some time. Many elected officials make official policy while completely neglecting the scientific research. Perhaps they’re doing what they think Jesus would do, or what they think is best for their short-term reelection goals, or “damn the science, this is what we think is best for the economy”? Meanwhile their children and the children of the families downwind in the neighboring states are getting asthma and other nasty illnesses at increasing rates.

 

Abortion is another wedge issue in the US. The constitution doesn’t say anything about it. It’s really a women’s rights issue, about exercising control over her own body.

 

These issues often dictate how hard-core Republicans and Democrats will vote, but increasingly the majority of voters in the US are registered as Independent, perhaps in part signifying their disgust with both parties. That would be me. The election cycle is in full swing, with an apparent “Trump versus Biden” outcome unless coronavirus nails one of them. Two tired old white men. Pretty much describes political power in the US.

 

I wonder who the evangelicals or the science deniers or anti-vaxxers think might protect them from COVID-19 if not scientists? Perhaps God did send COVID-19 to clean out the gene pool a bit? Nah, it’s just another one of those random things, although science probably tells us that these events are going to become more common rather than less. Might as well buy stock in companies that are developing or offer solutions for this sort of problem, including enabling a functional economy during periods of social isolation. In my final years at the giant aerospace company, telecommuting was not even allowed, a stupid and counter-productive policy. Wonder if that has finally changed?

 

Wups, had to take a break from this rant to watch a giant manta ray swimming around JollyDogs investigating the dining options. Perhaps the best part of this cruising life? Having time to reflect, then leave the noise behind.

There I was, thought I was gonna die! Sunday 12 Apr 20

Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. I really miss him. Had cancer not taken him in 2016 he would have turned 96. Still, he got to within 6 weeks of turning 92 and was darn healthy for all but the last 2 months. Just about everything out there is trying to kill people in their 80s and older. Isabel’s dad is now 85 or 86, still creeping around gently but definitely not just tottering off into antiquity, he’s arrived! About once a year (and the frequency is increasing) he gets a bladder infection or something else and it seems death is just around the corner. Darned if he hasn’t rallied and recovered each time, but it always gives us a scare. Now he’s worried about COVID-19! That seems a bit silly given everything else that the grim reaper seems to be throwing at him. He’s pretty safe, nicely isolated down in deepest darkest Cornwall (as they say) out in the country. Problem is he has access to cable TV and the internet, and the media is constantly working everyone up into a frenzy over the pandemic.

 

If everyone was really so worried about death and dying, maybe more folks would wear their seatbelts and get their flu jabs. Lots of folks die from the flu each year. More die in car accidents. Even more die from causes related to obesity, but there are fat bodies everywhere, happily wandering around stuffing bags of crisps into their pie holes, figuring their doctor will give them a pill to fix whatever damage they’re doing to themselves.

 

A couple days ago I had what at the time felt like a near death experience. Not the first one in my 61 rotations around sol, but the first involving an element of mother nature (she hate me) seemingly “coming for me”. This does come under the heading of “no sh_t there I was, thought I was gonna die”.

 

Soooo, after a day of self-isolation on JollyDogs and a couple of minor boat projects, the water was looking flat and the sun low enough on the horizon that sunburn wasn’t a threat. Time to go for a nice vigorous SUP paddle and work off that batch of cookies I baked a few days ago. And ate in three days, oink. Fun to explore near the shore of the nearby motus, wander up the hoas to look for critters, work on core muscles.

 

It is fair to note that this particular part of the lagoon is an obvious shark nursery. Lots of little black tip reef shark puppies paddling around in shallow water and shark teenagers visit us when we’re snorkeling. A while back I paddled over a bommie where rather large shark mommy and daddy sharks were lying motionless. None has ever shown any aggression and only a little curiosity. On the contrary, if a tiger shark acts curious, it’s time to exit stage left.

 

Suddenly there was a blur of movement in the corner of my eye and the SUP was impacted on the stern with a force that knocked me off and INTO THE WATER WHERE SHARKS LIVE!!! A shark, probably some surly teenager shark, had elected to investigate my lovely Red inflatable SUP as a dinner option. Can’t understand why. Doesn’t everybody know that vinyl tastes like, well, vinyl? Would you get vinyl on your pizza? Heck no!

 

So there I was spinning round, wielding my mighty SUP paddle in case the creature might make another pass to see what human flesh tastes like. Perhaps the encounter was too disappointing as I was left alone with plenty of time to squeal like a little girl with a serious adrenaline rush in progress. Quickly assessing my proximity to the shoreline versus JollyDogs, a command decision was made to swim/wade ashore, dragging my now flabby remnant of an SUP with me. Once there a bit of hollering got Isabel’s attention and soon she arrived by dinghy to retrieve her cowering hubby. Back on JollyDogs, after a shower on the stern (just in case I’d soiled myself) she filled me with restorative adult beverages, a nice meal, then patted me on the head.

 

SUPs are great exercise, but so far I’ve had difficulty achieving an elevated heart rate, except when pumping them up, and when being attacked by a shark.

Whats your story? Friday 10 Apr 20

Well sports fans, it’s Good Friday. If I recall from my Sunday school lessons so many years ago, it’s all about Jesus and resurrection and forgiveness and such. Whether you believe in all that or not, it’s a pretty interesting story. Heathens that we now proclaim to be, this year we’ll be celebrating Good Friday with the newfound knowledge that our self-isolation period has just been extended by 2 more weeks. Kinda figured that was coming but hope springs eternal.

 

As my conservative Republicans used to say while President Obama was in charge, “hope is not a plan”. That may be true, but hope is all many people in the world have, perhaps much of what drives their will to live. Maybe if they work 3 jobs for slave wages their children will have a better life. Maybe through their extraordinary efforts they’ll lift their families out of poverty. Maybe they’ll beat cancer and enjoy a long life after all. Maybe Covid-19 will only produce a mild reaction, or they’ll be completely asympomatic.

 

Nearly 26 years ago I was in a catastrophic aircraft crash, a result of a very short lapse in my generally good pilot judgement. Nobody to blame but me. Got a helicopter ride to a trauma center, various emergency surgeries, days in intensive care followed by months in a hospital bed. Learned what true friendship was and realized the love and support of my brother and sister who really were there for me. Four months of physical therapy, months of hobbling around with the use of crutches or a cane followed by several years of walking with quite a lot of pain. No reason to be bitter or cranky about my lot in life, heck the first 35 years were golden!

 

About 3 years after that mishap I met this amazing English girl while on a live-aboard SCUBA boat in Australia. Darned if we didn’t realize we shared a common dream for the future, and we got married in 1998 - just celebrated our 22^nd wedding anniversary. Finally got to where I walked without a noticeable limp. Thanks to my darling wife learned how to save more money while maintaining a high quality of life and invest in our future together. Finished a strong and satisfying career at a giant aerospace company when retirement pensions were still a “thing”.

 

Now we’re out here on our little sailboat in a virtual paradise, enjoying each other’s company and the benefits of being in self-isolation without access to the 24-hour news cycle. We’re pretty sure we’re living the dream, certainly our version of it.

 

I don’t know if Jesus had hope or complete confidence when he was hanging there on the cross, but I know without hope a lot of us wouldn’t achieve our dreams.

The power of the podcast 9 Apr 20

I know lots of folks who don’t even know what a podcast is. Don’t know, don’t care, would rather listen to some talking head on the radio or some music while driving, doing household chores, jogging, whatever. It wasn’t uncommon to see folks going about their daily routine with a Sony Walkman strapped to their arm. For a while that was me. Then came the Apple iPod, and that changed the way many of us listened to music. I guess that invention spawned the podcast.

 

I think the first podcast I listened to was something produced by The Motley Fool, an investing advisement service we’ve subscribed to for years. TMF is the reason we’re out here rather than back there, still turning the money crank. We started out receiving their monthly newsletter, then there was access to pretty decent website, then they began producing daily and weekly podcasts addressing investment philosophy or reviewing specific companies and industries.

 

After leaving my iPod on an airplane after a long flight to Paris (never got that back) I spent six bucks on an app called DogCatcher for my smart phone. It allowed me to download podcasts of interest to listen to on my own schedule, and it opened up a world of content beyond what Apple was offering at that time.

 

JollyDogs has a stereo that can rock the anchorage (if you’re close), plenty of MP3 music on hard disks, and a Spotify premium subscription. Music is a big deal to us, and we have eclectic tastes. But give me a mundane chore to do or tell me it’s my turn to stand watch from now until 0100, and I’m going for the podcasts. Podcasts keep me alert and allow me to keep my attention on the task at hand, whether trimming sails or watching for marine traffic to washing dishes or taking a long walk.

 

The podcasts I listen to these days have evolved from simple financial talk shows to true art forms. Imagine a topic of interest, there’s probably a podcast to listen to. Highly produced historical series?  Podcast. How stuff works?  Podcast. Best part? I’ve never had to pay for one yet. Maybe there are some with subscription fees, but I haven’t found them.

 

BBC recently produced an amazing series entitled “Thirteen Minutes to the Moon” to commemorate the Apollo 11 mission. Perhaps because it was met with such enthusiasm they’re doing a follow-up, Apollo 13, the very bad luck flight. I binge listened to the Apollo 11 series, and can’t wait to download the next in the Apollo 13 series. Wonderfully researched historical content that produces strong emotional responses. NPR creates some amazing content as well.

 

Trevor Noah, one of the most brilliant comedians and late-night talk show hosts on planet Earth does one that keeps me laughing. Bill Maher’s show makes me want to wring someone’s neck, occasionally his neck. Planet Money turns the field of economics from a horrible, dry topic to something completely fascinating. One of their series followed the creation of a designer T-shirt, from the cotton that came from Mississippi was shipped via container to various locations all over the world where the raw cotton became thread, then fabric, then dyed fabric, then pattern cut, then sewn, then printed, then shipped back to the US. Part of the story was the impact the standard shipping container has had on world commerce, and the fact that only a few cents of cost per shirt accounted for all that shipping. Freakonomics is a podcast that examines the hidden side of all kinds of common ideas, turning things upside down. Hidden Brain examines what drives human behavior, how we are unknowingly exploited by advertisers and politicians, mob psychology, etc.

 

Isabel especially enjoys listening to life hackers, usually brilliant physicians looking beyond today’s conventional medicine to improve health, longevity and quality of life.

 

Podcasts educate and inform while leaving our hands and body free to do other things. They help us remain alert during monotonous watches and make mundane tasks enjoyable. We win!

Gaming out the COVID 19 impact on cruising 7 Apr 20

I learned a new word recently while reading an Ian Banks sci-fi novel. Peregrinations. Realized that we recently did a yoga workout with a guy from a boat named Peregrine. Now I know what the story of that boat name is. Perigrinations refers to travels, or at least that’s what I recall from the dictionary built into my Kindle.

 

We’ve been thinking about how the COVID-19 pandemic is being managed by various countries and even states. At the end of the day, the crisis management model seemingly adopted by the UK, where the effort is to achieve “herd immunity” in a controlled rate that so that the sickest folks won’t overwhelm the healthcare system, that model is likely the only one that will work in today’s world of international supply chains and travel.

 

The rate of infection can be controlled somewhat by self-isolation requirements, but as we understand it lots of infected folks never exhibit symptoms. Without a cheap, reliable and “available everywhere” testing method in which there can be 100% compliance, plenty of infected folks will slip through the cracks.

 

Here in French Polynesia the effort has initially been to stop all international travel, stop all non-critical internal movement, and require households to self-isolate. This does seem to have slowed the rate of infection, as there something like 42 identified cases now, almost all of them on Tahiti, but that number obviously under-represents the true number of infected individuals. Still, the medical system has apparently managed to deal with the workload so far. Perhaps herd immunity will be achieved here at a much slower rate. Maybe a long enough, properly observed self-isolation period would actually stop the spread of COVID-19 and effectively eliminate it as a French Polynesian health issue.

 

That is, or course, until someone leaves and returns, or someone new arrives, inadvertently bringing the virus and re-introducing it to the population. Ships bring pretty much everything to this country. Airlines move businessmen, family members, government officials and tourists back and forth. Regardless of your philosophy or political stripes, international economic activity is the only way any country stays afloat. Heck, even those silly buggers in North Korea would starve without it.

 

A large part of the economy in French Polynesia is international tourism. Right now France seems able to prop the local economy up and the EU is perhaps kicking in, but ultimately commerce has to resume and money has to change hands so folks can buy groceries. Somebody has to pay to get ships loaded with goods, and someone has to get paid to create the goods to be loaded.

 

In the US much of the romaine lettuce comes from Yuma, Arizona, but vast quantities of other vegetables, fruit, fish and meat come from international sources such as Mexico. Our competition based, capitalist economy has not found it necessary (so far) to declare all agricultural food products as strategic resources and capabilities where we must be 100% self-sufficient. Heck, even department of defense equipment includes lots of international content, that’s how we can sell those weapons systems all over the world.

 

We can slow down the spread, but until a vaccine is developed, until a cheap and reliable test is developed, or until everyone has either had and survived coronavirus (or died), then COVID-19 will continue to plague us. Ultimately the anti-vaxxer idiots may be the final vector.

 

We don’t have the original “Omega Man” movie starring Charleton Heston with us, so to get up to speed on world pandemics I recently watched “I Am Legend” starring Will Smith, a remake of Omega Man. Stas’ said we should have “Pandemic”, based on a World Health Organization gameplay that acknowledges our totally connected world. Maybe that’ll be tonight’s educational video. I sure hope nobody has to kill their own dog. Wups, spoiler alert!

Coconuts 103 and other random thoughts Tuesday 7 Apr 20

Thank you, Rob for looking up the venerable coconut and offering the following (paraphrased) enlightenment . . .

 

A little about the maturation of the fruit is in order before even discussing harvesting your coconuts. Coconuts take around one year to ripen fully. Several coconuts grow together in a bunch and they ripen about the same time. If you want to harvest the fruit for coconut water, the fruit is ready 6-7 months after emergence.  If you want to wait for the delicious meat, you need to wait another 5-6 months. Along with timing, color is also an indicator of ripeness. Mature coconuts are brown and swear like sailors when one attempts to cut them open. Immature fruit is bright green and behave like a petulant child, throwing temper tantrums when one attempts to steal their water. As coconuts mature the water slowly diminishes as the meat hardens. The hard shell inside the husk also forms, thickening over time. Of course this brings us to the question of whether coconuts continue to mature after they are picked. Consulting the book “Emotional Intelligence 2.0” by Travis Bradberry & Jean Greaves, it would seem this question goes unanswered, however the general consensus gained by asking the various crabs that dwell on the nearby motus and dine pretty much on coconuts, it would seem that green coconuts continue to behave as children.

 

So there you have it. I opened a coconut yesterday thinking it would be just for the lovely water, but it was a “tweener” and was still completely full of water and also had very tender flesh and a shell, although not nearly as tough a shell as a brown coconut. I would swear this coconut was picked green and got a little brownie-goldie lying on the sun up on the trampoline, but maybe I’m delusional. Well of course most folks think we’re both delusional, as we live on a tiny boat in the middle of bufu. We’re pretty sure Toby and Carol think this is just one step up from living in a piano box under a bridge abutment. Anyway, this particular coconut – apparently a teenager – behaved in a particularly surly manner as my trusty Ginsu knife refused to open it and I had to resort to my Harbor Freight oscillating power tool (known on board as the Binford 4000) with the 1” wide hard wood blade just to get the husk off.

 

This analogy of the jelly-like, very tender or harder flesh and shell texture and hardness of various stages of coconut development could be extended to human development and “life experiences” but knowing me would likely degenerate into vaguely sexual references, so let’s not go there. . .

 

Anyway, Isabel felt the flesh of this particular coconut was too tender to participate in my upcoming preparation of chocolate chip & coconut cookies. Maybe she thought its cone was too young? Guess you’d have to watch the old Dan Akroyd / Jane Curtain / Chris Farley movie “Coneheads” to get that reference. Instead I used the VitaMix to pulverize some of the more mature coconut flesh already in the fridge. Roasted it in the oven for a bit to dry it out, trying to make it similar to the store-bought bag of coconut flakes required for Stas’s mom’s coconut macaroon recipe. Even improper execution of that recipe once made me temporary “cookie meister of the day” in a casual cookie competition with Randy and Jody from SV Free Luff, Thad and Kristin from SV She’s No Lady, and Aaron and Simon from SV I’m Really Embarrassed That I Can’t Remember. One of the greatest moments in my life!

 

As an aside, Stas’ would you please ask your mom how many cups of coconut are in the bag size she specifies for the simple macaroon recipe, and how to best adjust her recipe when using fresh coconut which really isn’t as sweet as the flakes out of the bag that one purchases in the baking section?  Hopefully there hasn’t been a run on baking goods, similar to the idiotic recent run on toilet paper, although it would make sense. What you going to do all day while self-isolating? Bake cookies!

Confit de Canard Friday 3 Apr 20

We owe our dining happiness, not only tonight, but for several very special meals to our friends on SV Flip Flops. They’re a fun-filled South African family who clued us in to the joys of “Confit de Canard”, something I think they discovered while hanging out in Martinique or some other French territory. What an amazing treat this stuff is! Confit de Canard, as we can purchase it, is a great big can of slow cooked duck thigh and leg portions in a bunch of duck fat.  Already cooked, ready to “heat ‘n eat”, it’s kind of like Shake ‘n Bake!  And I helped!

 

We’re talking about an insanely delicious meal for four folks, and it was the meal of choice for Pat’s recent birthday while he and Celine were with us. Isabel is awfully clever with her menu planning and single can yields 3 killer meals. At about $28 a pop, that’s great value in French Polynesia. We bought ours at Larson’s Mazagin at Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva. As good as the duck flesh is, the lucky chef also ends up with a large amount of duck fat which enhances all kinds of dishes. Fried taters?  Use duck fat! Pot of beans? Enhance with duck fat! There is almost nothing that duck fat won’t improve. I grew up in South of the Mason-Dixon line in North Carolina. No self-respecting Southerner would cook up a mess of beans without some pork lard or other source of flavor. Or eat instant grits, for that matter. . .

 

Tonight we needed only one of the thigh/leg portions for Isabel’s first attempt at chow mein, a very popular dish in the local “snacks” here in French Polynesia – generally costs around $12 US for a plate that’ll feed 2 hungry JollyDogs crew. I crisped up the duck on the grill while Isabel got everything else going, then reported back with the duck ready to mix into the veggie and noodle combo already in the pot. In a flash the best chow mein either of us has ever eaten was on the table. This was such a momentous occasion that we busted out a bottle of “tastes better with food” red wine. We behaved ourselves so there is still half a bottle available for the next round of duck, hopefully tonight! It must be said that greasy foods like duck and steak allow dry Bordeaux reds to be at their finest, enhancing the flavor of the food while kind of cutting the greasy feel and flavor.

 

Food and good provisions are a source of real pleasure for many of us cruisers. Personally we can’t imagine what it would be like to only view food as a source of sustenance. We’re delighted that we finally made email contact with the local shopkeeper who now has our provisioning list for the next supply ship, arriving around April 19^th. Those items will keep us going along with all the stuff still in the larder. The next food order will be through Juliette, a personal shopper in Papeete who will fulfill our provisioning request and put it on the ship to us. She’ll get whatever we want, then we have to do a banking transfer to pay her bill. Even with her fee and shipping it’s still a lot less expensive than the local markets and she’ll send refrigerated items such as organic fresh leafy greens or even ice cream, stuff not generally available in the local market. Here we can get cabbage and carrots and onions and garlic and potatos – the basics.

 

We sure do miss the big bags of basmati rice and the Starbucks branded French Roast coffee beans we used to buy at Costco.  The rice we can buy here is crap. The local coffee is like dishwater. You’d think in a French speaking country where one can purchase some great French cheeses, one would be able to purchase good coffee. Not so, kimosabe.  Pat and Celine arrived with a couple bags of that good Costco coffee so we’re still in high cotton, but it will run out. Maxis in Papeete has lots of Costco items including that coffee so we’ll ask Juliette to go there. If only there was a Trader Joe’s. . .

 

People in hell can at least ask for ice water, can’t they?

Coconuts 102 Friday 3 Apr 20

One of the joys in French Polynesia is the abundance of coconuts.  On March 28^th I talked a bit about a gizmo I assembled that allowed me to harvest green coconuts from shorter palm trees.  Today let’s focus more on how they ripen, what to expect when opening various coconuts, and coconut opening techniques.

 

Recently we gathered coconuts in various stages of ripeness.  Some brownie/gray ones that still had a little water inside, as one can determine by shaking the coconut by your ear. If you don’t hear some sloshing around, toss it away as it’s probably too far gone.  Our pals John and Becca on SV Halcyon taught us that the ones that are kind of a nice golden brown are at the peak stage of ripeness, perfect for both coconut water and flesh.  If they’re a little too far along and bordering more on gray outside, the flesh will taste a little bit oilier and there might be the beginnings of a coconut palm sprout growing inside.  This little dumpling looks a bit spherical and can be as small as a golf ball or as large as the entire volume that was formerly filled with coconut water.  John says it’s considered to be a delicacy, and the flesh does taste lovely.  The ones that are a nice greenie-goldie-brownie color have lovely flesh, sweeter and not noticeably oily in taste.  The shell is easier to crack open and the flesh comes off the shell easier.

 

Husking a flesh coconut is easy if friendly local islanders live nearby.  Pretty much every house has a great big metal stake driven into the ground, the upper tip bent and slightly sharpened into a flat chisel shape.  Ask then nicely and they’ll generally let you use their coconut opening machine, even providing a demonstration of the proper technique.  That’s as much to show you what NOT to do as to how to be efficient.  Improper technique can lead to serious injury including bruised or cracked ribs.  John is happy to hack away at the coconut husks with a machete.  Odds are pretty good that I’d eventually remove some of my own fingers using John’s technique.

 

We recently gathered some coconuts in various stages of ripeness.  After pondering my navel, I realized I had something on board that might help husk a coconut while not hurting myself.  I purchased mine at Harbor Freight, an oscillating tool that is often referred to as a “fine tool”.  It can be equipped with a variety of blades and is excellent for cutting thin metal, fiberglass, and wood.  A triangular sanding attachment allows the user to get into tight spots.  Doesn’t use much power so no problem with the inverter.  It’s also small and easily stored.  I had a 1” wide wood cutting blade that melts right through the coconut husks.  It takes a couple of minutes to put about 5 longitudinal slices from end to end on a coconut, then I use a large screwdriver to pry the husk sections off.  Clean the resulting coconut up a bit to get rid of most of the fiber, then us a small ballpeen hammer to whack on the coconut around its equator until it cracks in half.  Conduct that operation over a 2-liter bowl to capture the water, then once I’ve got two halves I’m ready to proceed with my oyster knife, prying the flesh out of the shell while resting the coconut shell on the cutting board.  Haven’t stabbed myself yet.

 

We’ve learned to husk and open the coconuts as we need them, as husked coconuts in this environment will eventually crack open on their own.  If you don’t nice that pretty quickly rot will begin inside.  If I see any sign of decay once opening a cracked one, it goes over the side.  It’s not yet clear to me whether a green coconut harvested off a tree will continue to ripen, and whether lying in the sun or in shade will make a difference in that process.  Perhaps someone can Wikipedia that and send me more info, text only please to WDG9444@SAILMAIL.COM.

 

Coconuts are yummy and enhance many of our meals.  Flesh for snacking or in various dishes, milk rendered from the flesh in other dishes.  We’re living large out here!

Cruising repairs for idiots Thursday 2 Apr 20

If I’ve had one thing beat into my head the past few years, it’s to avoid overly integrated devices and systems. Highly integrated systems all just freakin’ dandy when things are working, but when something goes wrong it can be just a real joy trying to troubleshoot and fix a problem.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an old system integrator and believe a fully integrated approach is fine, but the integration method and system build up is critical to rapid troubleshooting, component failure identification and repair or replacement.

 

Here’s something I got right.  We used to have a combo inverter/battery charger.  Worked great, and Jack just installed it in his motor home, but if it goes wrong I hope he’s got a separate battery charger and spare inverter. Given that we were sailing off to the land of 50 hertz / 230 volt power, a battery charger that only liked 60 hertz / 115 volt power didn’t make sense. That big heavy box got replaced with 2 much smaller and more capable boxes, an inverter that works off our batteries, and a battery charger that doesn’t care where in the world we plug it in. If one of them fails, I lose half the capability.  If the old unit had failed, I would have lost all the capability even if we still were in Mexico. I installed multiple solar panels.  Each has a dedicated solar controller, and I left long service loops in the wiring, so if a controller or solar panel fails rewiring and recovery will only take a few minutes.

 

My nemisis is our lovely house water pump. It’s a great unit, a Pentair Shuflo II 5 gpm fresh water pump that generally works great for about a year then quits. Usually when Isabel is in the shower all covered with soap, we’re underway in a messy seaway and it’s dark out. What fun it is dealing with that. Of course I’ve got a spare ready to install, you think I’m crazy?

 

I was just yakking with another boat skipper, bemoaning that the pump I replaced about 3 months ago had just died again. The same stupid little switch that fails every time. I purchased a bunch of them from Digi-Key the first time it happened, and it’s pretty easy to R&R the switch, but getting the pump out and the spare installed is a giant pain in the butt. In the meantime maybe my wife has soap in her eyes and nobody’s minding the farm at the helm.

 

Anyway, my new best friend Alex on SV Ari-B told me about a solution he found to this particular problem. He’s had pump pressure switch failures at about the same rate we have over the years, and as he noted, the pump/motor assembly is good for 30 years, the switch for maybe 12 months if you’re lucky. His solution? Disable the integrated pump switch and install a fixture just downstream on the high-pressure side that houses the pressure sensing switch. Install it in an easy to reach location, and the way it’s assembled the switch can be replaced in just a couple of minutes. Apparently one can purchase these things from an RV repair or accessories facility and they’re cheap. Still a nicely integrated system, but now with more discrete line replaceable units, (LRUs) as we used to call them at the big aerospace company. Ultimately cheaper to maintain in terms of man hours, less hassle and maybe no sailor swearing lessons. Sign me up!

 

The folks that build these boats don’t do it for ease of maintenance. They do it for ease and speed of build so that they can sell them cheaper and compete in the marketplace. The diesels even get installed before the top deck gets glued on. Good luck replacing one of those, and have fun standing on your head while you work on one.

 

If you’re looking for a boat to buy, look at each system component installation and consider how difficult it might be to maintain, repair or replace. Might really influence the buy/no buy decision. When you do buy your dream boat and decide to add systems or equipment, think long and hard about the above.

 

All whining aside, being out here still beats a great day at the office. . .

International adopt a shark day Thursday 2 April 20

Actually this should have been my April fool’s day joke, but got busy fixing a water pump. It still is an inside joke after a fashion. . .

 

We’ve got shark puppies swimming all over the place here in Raroia. Little buggers less than a meter long. We see them swimming in water so shallow their dorsal fin is completely out of the water simply because their bellies are rubbing against the sand. See them swimming alone, see them swimming with their brothers or sisters or friends. They seem quite curious and follow us around whether swimming or paddling SUPs or even wading in shallow water.

 

They’re like “shark puppies”, or perhaps more correctly “shark cubs”. Bear cubs are cute little buggers too, all cuddly and such, but they sort of grow out of that phase. I grew up in the Smokey Mountains of North Carolina in the US. There be bears in them thar hills. Occasionally one might see a bear cub or two and feel the urge to play with them. Not a good idea, as even if mama is out of sight she’ll be along shortly and will take a very dim view of human interaction with her kids.

 

No telling if shark parents feel the same way about their young’uns. Little black tip reef sharks are no threat. Bigger ones generally aren’t either, but we’ve friends who have noted some slightly aggressive behavior at times. All in all, we’re not part of their food chain. Tiger and hammer head sharks are a different deal, and one is well advised to watch them carefully and be willing to exit stage left if they start acting too interested.

 

Recently I was out paddling the SUP which provides a superb view of the sea floor in good visibility conditions. Suddenly I saw a large jumble of boulders and coral, with 3 very large white tip reef sharks (probably somebody’s parents) sort of just hanging out, perhaps having a nap. White tips aren’t supposed to be a threat to us either, but I didn’t stick around to find out. It’s an inflatable SUP. We have friends who got a pretty big chunk bitten out of their inflatable dinghy. Admittedly they were hauling in a fish at the time and Mr. Shark was going after their catch. Makes one think.

 

If it were safe to spear fish and eat them here the next problem is Mr. Shark. Put a hole in a fish and one better move quickly to get the fish out of the water and into the dinghy or whatever, because Mr. Shark can smell blood from a zillion miles away and make warp speed to investigate. We’ve got a friend who punched a shark in the nose because it wanted the fish she just shot. That woman’s got some big ovaries.

 

I think I’ll name our shark puppy Bill. Black tip Bill. Bob Sobey’s evil twin as John used to say.