After being stuck in port for several weeks, Adventure Grin the Portabote is ready for some action. He escorts Sonrisa’s crew through bommie infested reef and open ocean to arrive on one of the most famous beaches in the world: Anse Source D’Argent, La Digue, the Seychelles.
“What are we going to do for your birthday, Leslie?” “Hmmm….I don’t know…” Our friends had been asking me this for a couple weeks prior the big day, and I’d been dragging my feet in making any sort of plans. A hike maybe? A beach day maybe? Dinner at a restaurant? Sail out and a
In normal times, we cast upon a new shore and immediately get to exploring. usually, we don’t have much time to waste, a sailor must sail on. With all this indecision and uncertainty playing into our lives, I find it hard to focus on exploration. It seems out of context and strange to do. I don’
S/V Sonrisa, a 1981 Valiant 40 Sailboat with a tendency toward strong opinions and flowing ink in her pen takes you along for the ride in this blog post as she decides whether to push her crew to sail onward or wait for a wind shift in this post-covid cruising world.
“I had the worst seasickness I’ve ever had!” Jen says over a glass of wine. We all shake our heads in commiseration. “Oh, god no! What happened?” I ask, sitting forward on the edge of my seat, clutching the soothing stem of a wine glass containing my Landfall Rum Ration. The Oddgodfreys and the
“How’s it going over there? We are getting hammered!” Steelie Pete has hailed us on the VHF. The rain hasn’t let up, the wind is completely dead, and the motor has been chugging along for a few hours. “You’re getting hammered? We have zero wind. We are motoring right now.” Andrew reports. “R
The chain rattles against the guide, there is that familiar thunk of anchor settling into place. Andrew wrestles with the pins while I steer us safely out of the shallows. We slide along the turquoise blue water that suspends us over white sand until it turns dark with depth. The odometer is clo
“Did you even watch that documentary about Chagos that I sent you?” “Sorry, no.” I say, while Andrew scuttles away to avoid the question. Pete groans, releasing the depth of his disappointment like a belch from a sulfuric volcano. “I can’t think about that business, Pete. I’m on a yo