Marina living: finding our tribe

The garden has been a great source of local community for us, but the tightest community we find is always with fellow boaters.

Last summer, the children had great company from the three girls living on the boat next door. We originally met the family on Tangaroa in French Polynesia. They got to Australia well before we did, but they had a bit of a deadline. They wanted baby Evie to be born there! She arrived a couple of weeks before we did... thus making the marina an dream location for me.

I thought I was the one who would love the baby fix. Turns out Siobhan loved getting to play big sister at least as much.


Hard to believe but we are creeping up on a year since this was taken.

The lack of mutual language between our children and the Dutch girls was hard in the beginning. They're all pretty used to this, but it can get frustrating for a little one who wants to be understood (Tamar and Suze were 1 and 3). They all got very close, though, and we sure do miss "The Tangaroas." Besides their lovely selves, it's been an adult only group: there haven't been any other resident marina kids since they headed back to the Netherlands last fall.

A host of boats passed through during the "off" (hurricane season) and made the marina home, helping build the fabric of our salty little community.

The crew from Hokus Pokus particularly endeared themselves:


Max and Ulla didn't just give the kids finger puppets- they made a theater for them to play with.

Several freshly minted cruisers fledged from the marina this year: Kadoona and Moonraker, Mary Blair and Liberty. Each departure was cause for celebration. Better yet if we can send them off from the water! This parade of our neighbors sailed out to anchor in a bay just inside the heads of Sydney Harbour when we bid Kadoona goodbye.


That's Liberty right behind us! They left on a year-long coastal cruise shortly after.

With a core of liveaboards in our little marina, we started a tradition for everyone to meet up on Friday nights to barbecue.

Tales were told. Songs were sung. Goon was drunk.



After listening to me complain about the lack of lyrics to his favorite tunes (OK, so it was a little slow pulling them up on the iPad) John even made up a songbook.


Goon is part of our new Australian lexicon. Some say it's derived from flagon (because, ya know, boxes are a rather larger than usual vessel for wine)- but it's also an aboriginal word for drinking.

We kept up our Friday night barbecues all year. Sometimes we had to sit closer to the grill to try and keep warmer. We definitely wore more clothes. There were times when the goon was warmed and spiced to help ward off the chill. And somewhere along the way what started as a friendly collection of neighbors with a lifestyle in common became a tight group of friends.

Feed the body, feed the soul

Something I've missed about living on land is having a garden. Oh, sure, you can put pots on the deck for boat style patio gardening- but that's highly impractical while cruising. Aside from the harsh environment (salt spray is foe to the hardiest!), quarantine in most countries generally won't welcome live plants.

Thanks to a friend at work with an interest in permaculture, we became connected to a community garden in our area.


Many moons ago: radishes lining the bed of Tuscan kale.

It's a little different from the usual plot system in Seattle "P-Patch" or most other community gardens. This operates entirely as a collective: there is no Yours and Mine. Participants share all the work, and share everything produced. On Sunday mornings, we take the bus to the other side of our district and meet up with other volunteers around 10. We work until about 1, with a generous break for midday tea. As we get ready to depart, the fruits, and herbs which were harvested are on a table, and we each take what we need, with an eye on ensuring something for everyone. A few dollars contributed each time to help cover expenses, which is also funded by the North Sydney Community Council

We've had the obvious benefit: really, really good food. It's just so very much more than this, though.

It's a community of truly lovely people, who have been a gift to get to know. Carol, below, is our matriarch.


Pulling out cauliflower is hard work!

The break for tea usually includes scones or other homemade goodies from a member. We make tea from a mix of herbs in the garden: kaffir lime leaves, lemon thyme, sage, or whatever is handy.



It's when we sit with our fellow gardeners, and chew on issues bigger than the cutworm crisis over a cuppa.



The kids claim teatime is their favorite part, but I know it's more than that, too. It's about how proud Niall is of the meaningful contributions he makes- putting nets over our tamarillo trees, or constructing the tomato trellis. How Mairen loves ferreting every last little cutworm in a bed, and dedicating it to a bucket for some hungry chickens. Siobhan's pride in having what see sees as utter and complete ownership of the eggplant harvest (although truly, she sees fruits we missed completely).



And then, of course, there are usually dogs.


Few things better than an adoring canine fix.

Over the last nine months, the children have been able to harvest vegetables from plants that they started from seeds. Really understanding how to produce your own food is a valuable life skill. They also know what real, good, organic produce should look like... and they compare that to what we see in the supermarket.

So much more nourishment than you'd think, from a pile of fresh greens.


Siobhan preps the haul of an early spring harvest at home: cauliflower, peas, lettuce, parsnips, kale, pansies, rutabaga, chard, lots of herbs... I think there's a daikon hiding in there, too.

The biggest lure in a hotel room

The best part of Alison's visits are the time to hang out and catch up. She was on Totem this week, which I am really sorry to have missed (new job = some travel). We often end up ordering food and just gabbing away in her hotel... we've had some take-out pizza or sushi fests in her posh downtown rooms.

This is always a mini adventure for the children. Without a TV on the boat, you'd think they would make a beeline for the remote, right?

Nope.

Apparently, the lure of the BATHTUB is even sweeter.


"Trying" to avoid having a picture taken... at least they gave it an appropriate blur.

The girls were pruned before they let Niall have his turn. And then they  had to jump back in anyway.


Then, of course, they hammed it up. Silly kids

Special Delivery

The combination of traveling in places of scarcity, being frugal, or simply not having any options (very few stores in the coastal Baja desert) means we often just go without.

On one hand, we have grown accustomed to doing without something we 'need.' Very rarely is it a true need anyway- it's a desire, a want, a convenience. But on the other... wow, there is nothing as sweet as the delivery of something that isn't feasible to get locally! Lately, that delivery has come in the best packages.

Alison is one of our fellow travelers.  We met her (and Allan) in Mexico; Totem and FlyAweigh shared a few anchorages. We bonded hanging out in New Caledonia waiting on a weather window for the passage to Australia while ducking the herd group think on when to go. She flies the really big busses in the sky for United Airlines, and recently has been doing the LAX-SYD run. Lucky us! We are soaking in the time with our cruising buddy when she is here... trading stories and remembering how much we love being "out there". Trading notes on the challenges of re-entry and how you sometimes feel so much like an outsider from the norm. And o, has she brought some excellent goodies with her! 

Alison has been our boat parts angel. Most recently, she's been bringing in new HF radio bits (we have given up and won't fix the Furuno again. Besides, they are interfering unnecessarily to hamper Sea Shepherd's efforts to stop illegal whaling activity. Losers! I don't want to give them our business). Meanwhile, we can't get the radio we want in Australia- it's not sold here. The closest thing to it has reduced functionality and costs considerably more. Enter: the pilot courier! With components coming in over a couple of trips (trying to keep our customs duty costs down) we now have a functional system on board.

I don't know how I missed getting a picture of the awesome super engineered packing job (with integrated handle) that Alan did... but this is sweet. A little girl time. Mairen doesn't snuggle up to just anybody, but really loved sitting for Alison to brush out her hair.


Mairen hates having her hair brushed. Hates it. But she didn't want to get up from Alison's lap...

Michael is also a pilot- he flies private jets. Everybody close your eyes for a sec and hope that his corporate bosses need a few more return trips to Australia, okay?

He and Judy are another branch of the extended cruising family... they live on Milagro in Alameda, and we met them during the month-plus we spent at Gate 11. That was more than three years ago... how cool was it to have them check in and offer to bring goodies? I think this is cruising spirit at some of it's finest!

The girls looking a crafts projects... Michael sampling our homebrew.

The kids had special treatment- crafts and an excellent book. Thanks to Michael, I am now running again (my tried-and-true trainers are more than 2x the US cost in Oz. I couldn't stomach it)... and we are eating some sweeeeeeet chocolate chip cookies. We knew we missed those, but didn't realize HOW much until the first batch started filling the cabin with good smells.

Good thing I have those shoes to run off the extra calories.

Returning from a hiatus: The Happy Factor

Life had extra complications for a bit, and the blog was ignored. Changes are happening and new rhythm is starting to thrum. What Jamie calls The Happy Factor is back. What's up?

We're moving (well, sailing) north to from Sydney to Brisbane. Yay! Boat on the move! 

I'm starting a new job. Still a nomad, just postponed a bit longer.

Yoga rocked my world. Again. Amazing how a simple commitment to daily practice can help with a  positive perspective.

And with (or because of) the confluence of all these things, the Happy Factor returned. You've GOT to have it with you, or  make a change- life is just way too short to settle.

Goodness, and a backstory, comes. Stay tuned.

Out for a paddle with my girls, sneaking up on a pelican.

Seems we haven't messed the kids up

It's been three years since our kids were enrolled in school. When we left, Niall was in third grade. Mairen had just finished kindergarten. Siobhan... well, I guess she's never been enrolled! It's been boatschooling ever since.

Finding a homeschooling path wasn't always easy, but I had some pretty amazing mentors to help find it: Laureen and Jason, Frank and Ronnie, the Seven Cs- all parents of amazing kids. Once we started cruising, we learned so much by sharing with other nomadic families. We don't all approach it the same way- in fact, we are wildly divergent!- but there is always something to be learned from each other

There isn't any one way to go about it. Which is what makes it, as a parent, a little scary. Our children mean more to us than anything: what- and how- they learn now, shapes their future.

Although we have absolutely no regrets about boatschooling- and for a variety of reasons, have not enrolled the children in Australian schools- I confess to still crave signs from outside our little circle that we're doing OK. I don't want to need mainstream approval, but can't deny how powerful it is.

Which is part of the reason why, I suppose, it was so exciting when Niall was recognized for an essay he wrote recently. The essay was submitted to a local contest through the public library system, judged by professional authors. But the deepest pride is in seeing how he grew with this process, from start to finish.

Niall accepts his award from the Mayor.

It began when he saw the announcement about the contest at our local library on one of the gazillion visits he and his siblings make. A poem or story, up to 750 words- with prizes given to the winners in 5 age groups from 11 to 18. He worked hard on his piece: for about two weeks, he wrote and spun and rewrote. He invested so much into it, I worried about how he's respond when he didn't win.

His topic is ultimately about environmental responsibility. He shares it by looking at a unique experience from our travels, but something most people can identify with: walking along, and seeing plastic trash- and how it fits in the bigger picture. So proud that this is what he felt was important to express for a broader audience.

What finally melted me as a parent was to see my kid get up there behind the podium to read his work to a crowd. He could just barely see the 200-odd gathered over the top. I'm quite sure that I couldn't have handled that at his age- he was a pro! Although, he confessed later- he had to keep shifting his weight so his shaky legs wouldn't knock into each other.

It's a great essay. I crow! I can't help it. You can read the essay on his blog, or listen to him read it on this video.

Niall's essay: ocean plastic from behan gifford on Vimeo.

So homeschoolinng, boatschooling, unschooling... it seems we haven't messed the kids up. They are thriving. We have ups and downs. I always worry that we're missing something (and I know I'm not the only one!).

Where we've come, full circle, is not that homeschooling is a necessary part of the nomadic life we wanted to lead- but the very real gift that we have all relieved from choosing this life. Teachers come from many places, not just the four walls of a classroom. The box is comfortable for many, but I am grateful that we have the opportunity to opt out.

Adjustments in the antipodes

Urban Australia offers plenty of surface level similarities to urban America... sailing between the heads into Sydney Harbour, you didn't even need to fuzz your eyes to feel a little like going into San Francisco: hills, mission tile roofs, subtropical and temperate foliage blended.

The differences immediately start to smack you back to the reality of being 5,000+ miles and an ocean away. There are the signs like this at many crosswalks:

It is finally (finally!) intuitive to look right for oncoming traffic, but I nearly got squashed a few times when we first arrived. First... traffic? huh? After months in the islands, that was strange enough, but to have them coming at us from the "wrong" side...well, I'm happy to still be here. Dangerous stuff!

Then it's the little things. Electric switches flip down to turn on, up to turn off. Huh? 

Then there's "How you going?" I'm embarrassed to say how long it took me to decipher this common greeting. Rough equivalent to "how are you" or "what's up?" but mumbled together in a kind of "owyagoan" that left me wondering if clerks were asking me for my ID or had just stepped on something unexpected.

Rules. Rules, rules, rules. The local papers write about the Nanny State of Australia... we get faced with lots of rules in the boating community that don't make sense. Of course, this feels plenty familiar from home. But here, rules are flagrantly ignored and don't seem to be enforced. So why do they matter so much? People are still all about their "rules."

Cost. Everything is so expensive! I was looking at notes I'd taken on the cost of common groceries in Tahiti... thinking, at the time, how outrageous they were. Well... it's not any better here, and it's generally actually more expensive. This boggles me. If there were at least subsidized baguettes or slabs of proper French brie at reasonable prices, we might not consider revolting. Another reason to miss the islands.

What's really the same? 

We still get to see some beautiful skies. I'm just missing the land beneath.