Namibia Pt. 2 (& First Atlantic Crossing!)

Hi all! Sorry for going MIA for like a month and a half, but we had some pretty big plans for these past weeks and I’ve been busy catching up on school since then, so I’m just now finding the time to update all of my EXTREMELY patient readers on what’s been happening. I’ve already told you guys this, but let me remind you that this blog has been (barely) functioning for nigh on four years, so you all have had ample opportunity to drop my ghosting and lazy butt. But, because you haven’t and you’ve chosen to stick with me through all my shenanigans, I have a feeling you have a soft and mushy spot for me (aww) and will be patient with me when I disappear for a month(s) at a time without any heads-up. So this is me turning over a new leaf and not apologizing multiple times in a single post for all my past-due updates, which would take way more time than simply moving on to content. In conclusion, yes, I am sorry I didn’t get these posts up by now, but this is the scattered person I am and you better deal with it! Slay, queen, if I do say so myself!

Last time I posted, I told you guys all about our Namibian travels and excursions into that fantastic country, which was, to say the least, full of desert. That, however, was only half of the time we spend in Namibia, as after we left Luderitz, we traveled up the coast to Walvis Bay.

Walvis Bay was underwhelmingly rainy and cloudy for the week or so we were there, but we didn’t do much exploring there, so it didn’t really matter. We traveled a few times to the cute, neighboring town Swakopmund, which was near Walvis Bay, but not every day because I had classes and my dad had work calls. I did a lot of schoolwork and classes, trying to get as much face-to-face time with my teachers as possible before we set out to cross the Atlantic and I wouldn’t have a connection or be able to submit work at all.

At the end of our time in Namibia, Cleo’s friend who had been crewing with us left to go home to Cape Town and we rechecked all our metaphorical straps before setting out on the first leg of our journey across the big blue sea to the island of St. Helena.

I realize I haven’t fully explained passages to you guys and for this, I am truly sorry and embarrassed to have been a freaking BOAT blogger for years and not have posted about the true act of sailing somewhere. I’m going to remedy this situation at some point with a lengthy and as academic as I can muster description of all things nautical. However, that will have to wait, so I’ll just give you guys a quick crash course of our first passage crossing the Atlantic.

For those of you not familiar with sailing vocabulary, a “passage” is what we sailers call a period of time spent transiently moving between two destinations on a boat. I realize it is a general term, as it can refer to anything from a few hours to months at sea and to distances that range just as much. But, the important thing to remember is that most short passages, specifically a day or less, can be referred to as “day sails.” In context: “The day sail yesterday was lovely and short and gave us ample opportunity to sunbathe.” “The six-day-long passage rained 90% of the time and I was miserable and cold for most of it.” Capisce?

For recreational and private yachts, like Dafne, when, where, and how, we sail is entirely our own choice, but there are certain universal rules or norms that help to govern and ensure safety for a lot of boats. To the best of my ability, I will try to summarize them here. For safety, people always arrange a watch system, where someone is always awake, or, for people sailing alone (called “single-handers”), a timer is set to wake them up periodically (usually not longer than an hour) and check everything around them. On Dafne, because we have enough people, we arrange three-hour shifts for each of us, rotating throughout the day so that someone is always awake and keeping the boat safe. I have the 9-12 shift, so I’m awake and alert during those hours, AM and PM, where the weight of the whole world—erm, just Dafne and my family—rests on my slouchng shoulders.

What are some dangers that prompt this schedule and make watches so important? Well, if you’re sailing in a populated area, which is most of the time, there are often other boats, land masses, or underwater obtrusions that you can run into. So, scanning the horizon is an important part of watches. I’ll go into this and many other aspects of passages and watches in the previously mentioned scholarly articles I plan to post sometime in the ill-defined future. For now, all you need to know is that life on passage consists of sectioned times in the day where you’re responsible for everything. This doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone else is asleep—although sometimes they are—and it also definitely doesn’t mean that if something happens, you’re responsible. No, if anything out of the ordinary happens, I definitely wake up my dad and ask him what to do—successful aquatic human, you’re looking at her (actually you’re looking at a screen).

Passage is, for my sister, equivalent to death, as there is nothing unusual or stimulating happening. But, for me, it’s a kin to peace and serenity; no one bothering me for any reason, not having to hang out with anyone. The passage to St. Helena was like this for all aboard Dafne, as the seas were surprisingly gentle and calm and the wind was our friend. But, we didn’t see any wildlife, and things changed when we got to our destination, which was not all it was cracked up to be.