The Courtesy Flush

With Stephen Crabbe


The Courtesy Flush is a highly effective method of reducing the smell of feces when you are in a situation when it may be offensive to one of more person(s).

How it works:

When the unfortunate circumstances become a reality first study the ventilation system present in the lavatory as well as the proximity of other person(s). Time your bowel movement when you feel the others will not use the “area” until time has erased the odor of your stool. The optimal timing is achieved when person(s) have used the facilities and you are certain you have ample time. Examine the toilet to ensure the flushing lever is accessible from a comfortable sitting position. If time permits perform a test flush to assess the magnitude of water flow, you have to accept the fact you may get slightly wet. If everything mentioned above is in order you are ready. As the log(s)/loose matter hit the water you must flush immediately for a floater bobbing or other consistencies can dramatically increase the pungency level of your stool. Repeat flush if necessary to ensure the foreign dirt does not fester in the water.

In conclusion if the “Courtesy Flush” is executed in proper fashion it can be a handy tool which can turn a messy situation into a mere blip on the radar. Enjoy.

That Will Rip Your Undies

With Stephen Crabbe



The next lag of our journey began after some great rest and relaxation at Jordan Walkers flat in Whangerai. We were treated to 3 square meals and some great company. Props go out to Jordan, Shelley and Wendy thanks! Box of Birds!

We drove Midnight Special from Whangerai to Auckland where we stayed another night at the fat camel hostel, groovy place. As we drove to Te Urewera National Park I couldn’t help but think about how much has happened since we arrived in New Zealand. Every day and night is so different, the people, the scenery. Hostel rooms are like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. It could be empty; it could smell like Rodney’s jeans after he wore them for three weeks with no underwear. There may be someone sleeping, or a foreign exchange student learning English. One thing remains constant regardless of who your bunk mates are for the evening, everyone wants to have a good time. The conversation always starts out the same way. “Where are you from?” That opening question brings me to another rant altogether; nationalities can be quite deceiving…New Zealand being the global soup that it is can be a phenomenal place for people watching. Just when you have someone pegged as a Russian they end up being from Brazil. The hoards of German girls, aside from being quite fit are hard to nail down until they talk. And locals, Aussies, and Brits all have that same beaky demeanor making them impossible to distinguish. There is one exception though, Swedish guys. Usually riddled with pimples and of course blond hair they stick out like a sore thumb.
You look out on the dance floor “Look at the Swedish guy go”
Walking down a crowded city sidewalk “Look! It’s a couple Swedish backpackers”
“Hey Swedish guy! Can you pass the marmite?”

Anyways, enough about that let me set the scene in Te Urewera National Park. One of the last large parcels of land owned by the indigenous Maori people of New Zealand it was squeezed from their control in the 70’s and turned into a national park. It is located in the central North Island sitting around a half of a kilometer above sea level. According to Maori legend the forest is inhabited by “little people” whom move nomadically with the abnormally thick fog that swirls and meanders around Lake Waikaremoana. A good word to describe the lake is mystical. The water is very deep and dark but as it gets shallow toward the banks it takes on a jade green hue which is very beautiful to look at. Since the altitude is high the area typically gets high volumes of rain, snow, wind and generally pear shaped weather. A week before we began our hike it got dumped with eight inches of snow. Towering trees and aggressive rock faces add to the overall majestic nature of Lake Waikaremoana. Our drive into the park was quite eventful. Not knowing what to expect we entered the north side of the national park at a round dusk. The road quickly transitioned into an unsealed winding passage with livestock everywhere! Sheep, cows and horses were plentiful, lying on the road, running about. After sixty minutes of driving deeper into the heart of possibly the most remote place we have ever been we started to see shanties that looked like something out of the Blair Witch Project, it was creepy. You could almost hear dueling banjos twanging in the darkness. Finally after two hours of driving we spotted a small sign that indicated that there was a campground fifty kilometers away! Three hours after we entered the boundaries of the park and several dozen possum spottings we finally came to a campground. It was late, around eleven we pulled midnight special in and pitched our new tent! This one was mosquito proof. A cold night filled with battling for inches and listening to Pat saw logs wasn’t the most ideal sleeping situation but it did the trick.

The next morning we were woken up at sunrise by two very territorial male paradise geese locking horns for an impressive sounding battle as a female squawked in the background. I wanted to kill these fuckers, they never shut up making what could have been an amazing camp site irritating. We took a sun soaked day to organize our packs, buy our great walk pass, check out some waterfalls, and cook one last semi nutritious meal. We arranged our shuttle to the entrance of the walk for the next morning at eight AM.

A brisk morning with scattered clouds and sun greeted us as we got dropped off at Onepoto, the starting point of our tramp. My cheerful demeanor soured quickly as we ascended 532 meters over four kilometers. I kept looking up to see Pat’s bulging calf muscles scampering up the trail, hazed by lack of oxygen I kept thinking I was following a half breed mixed between Morgie McElman and Mike England. Two and a half hours after our inception onto the trail we reached the highest altitude of this hike at 1181m. We had climbed the spine of Panekiri bluff and the view was our reward. Looking down at the colossal lake we could see all the facets of the water outcropping into areas like spider legs. There was dramatic rock faces scattered around breaking up the thick, lush forest. We stopped at a hut where we filled our water bottles with collected rain water. We also met Simon and Stephan there, two German trampers which we are still traveling with two weeks later. The rest of the day we descended closer to the water, crossing several impressive suspension bridges. We stopped hiking at around 4pm at a Waiopaoa hut on the lake edge and set up our tent in a lovely secluded area with a fire pit. Luckily we got to see some of the thick fog that gives the lake its mystical reputation. It was so dense and packed in individual pockets that it looked like smoke. If you had Pink Floyd “Echoes” on your ipod and a hit of bathtub acid you would be in for a mind melting evening. Soon after we set up a few other trampers entered the site and we had a relaxing evening filled with light conversation and warmth from a wood stove in the hut. At around nine we retired to our tent after an hour of non-consequential rain to pack it in. Sleeping was easy after a day of rigorous exercise in the wops of New Zealand. We laughed ourselves to sleep listening to the comical owls scream “More Pork” Pat kept saying “I don’t have any fucking pork!” We didn’t have any pork so they screamed for it into the wee hours of the morning. And we would laugh, the other campers must think we are abnormally gassy, crazy Canadians…wait, we are.

The next morning was a late one starting; I don’t think we got onto the trail until after ten. We strapped on our packs and hit the trail with a vengeance. Our strides were powerful as we carefully stepped the trail in our usual formation of Pat setting the pace and myself doing everything I can to keep up. We were crushing estimated trail times by hours with conversations that made hours seem like minutes. Something about tramping makes you have the most lucid thoughts. We were both remembering things about our childhood that we hadn’t though of in years. There was an optional hike off the trail into Korokoro fall which was signed at one hour thirty return. We set our packs down and minus 20 kilos we scorched the trail to the waterfall and back in an impressive 45 minutes. By mid afternoon were we both moving like snails. We had bad blisters which was making any change in elevation excruciating. A little confused as to where we were on the trail we pushed on to Marauitu hut and set up shop lake side, close to a fenced off Kiwi reserve. Pat started a small fire and had a great moment on a makeshift bench which he noted “this is the life!” As darkness fell upon us the birds were sounding calls that were very different and amusing. We also got to hear a female kiwi calling after dark which sounds like a terrified woman screaming. The Kiwi is a nocturnal bird so the call is probably the closest contact we will encounter but we are passionate about seeing one.

Yet another late morning as we hit the trail after ten in an attempt to make our water taxi at 1:30pm. Surprisingly after an hour of slow and steady tramping we came to a sign that had the water taxi only 45 minutes away. With this great news we stripped down and enjoyed an hour in the sun relishing the accomplishment of another multi-day hike. Pat tried some fishing, I finished yet another book and we walked to our taxi spot were a sweet boat was waiting for us. The boat ride was great because we got to scope out where we had hiked from the perspective of the water. Looking up Panekiri Bluff which was a towering monstrosity of rock, we got to see why it seemed like a never-ending ascend on the first day. Pat and I sat back and smiled the whole way across the lake.

Thanks for reading the blog, I hope you enjoyed it. Pat and I are having the time of our lives!

From Ballers to Backpackers

After catching unexpected Labor Day sales – Shopping in a frenzy for camping necessities as though it were Christmas Eve – Stince and I were fully equipped for our cherry popping outdoor adventure in New Zealand. It was difficult deciding on which trail to tackle first, we have no experience, cheap new gear, and could be great supporting actors in a Super Size Me sequel for all the Mc Donald’s we have been eating. How could anyone pass up on the Mac Attack deal (2 big macs, 2 large fries and 2 large drinks) for $10, especially when you’re on a backpacker’s budget? All that aside, with reference to our Lonely Planet guide we decided on a 3 day, 41km tramp around Cape Regina. Cape Regina is labeled as New Zealand’s most northern point where over two hundred miles of white sandy beaches surround the coast and sub tropical forests occupy the mainland. It was only a 300km drive, Auckland was cold and it was about time we got a little color before we were mistaken as British backpackers.

The drive was very entertaining but extremely long. If you were driving you were blessed with the smooth shifting of Midnight Special (the name of our car) through twisty, undulant roads with similar composition of a video game. If you were riding passenger your head was on a swivel trying to capture all of the beautiful sites and strange looking creatures. It took longer than expected because with the profile of these two way highways you’re lucky to reach highway speeds of 80km. Not factoring this in, we had to pull into a campground as the Midnight Special was having a hard time illuminating the road.

Setting up for the evening was very exciting. It was like Christmas. We had been accumulating so much stuff throughout our days in Auckland that it was a surprise to open the large bags full of new gear. Our Moral was soon dampened once our erected tent displayed a mesh that a fucking bumble bee could fly through. Now it makes complete sense as to why it was 50% off. The bugs were non existent that evening but all we could do was pray that the Woods of Cape Regina are nothing like the Bush of northern New Brunswick.

We reached the Cape Regina check-in point early afternoon on the 24th, expecting to spend the rest of the day organizing our gear, planning meals and strategically packing our packs with intentions of leaving the next morning. No deal. They insisted we catch our shuttle to Te Paki stream two hours after we landed. We made the deadline but our packs were extremely disorganized.

After a quick orientation with our driver named Honey, at 17:00 we were tramping. It was a feeling I cannot describe. My boots were grazing fine white sand of the famous ninety mile beach, barreling waves of the Tasman Sea were crashing to my left, 300m wind sculpted sand dunes to my right and a mountain of tropical vegetation ahead. I turned to my side to look at Stince and followed by a big high five was gut wrenching laughter.

There were only a few spots along the way where fresh water ran to the ocean so our options were limited as to where we could camp. We purchased an ionic carbon filter that could make any water but sea water drinkable. While filling up at these streams it was important that the unfiltered water didn’t make contact with your mouth piece or drip into to your bottle because there is a bacterium called Guardia that thrives in these streams. If you ingest it, I guess you will not stop shitting until you shit your intestines out.

We tramped up and over two mountains to the fresh water destination of Moon Light Bay. The sun was beginning to set so we needed to set up camp quickly. We nestled behind a sand dune and pitched our tent in a bed of knee high field grass to escape the high winds. The sunset at this point was so beautiful it distracted our growling bellies until dark. Our main course for the evening consisted of mixing 5 hot dogs into a boiling pot of canned spaghetti. Boy was it ever good. At this point I was just waiting for a hatch of sand flies (black fly) or a swarm of mosquitoes to invade our site and penetrate the tent, but luckily there were none.

The sleep was fabulous. The sound of crashing waves accompanied by memory foam field grass caused us to sleep in. It was a must that we reach our next freshwater destination and time the tide at Tapotupotu Bay, so we packed up on empty stomachs and hit the trail at 09:10. It was a beautiful day for tramping, the sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky. For brunch we ate almonds and a bevy of granola bars. Everything was seamless until the Te Werahi descend. The tide was quite high and there was not a dry passage to the beach. We searched and searched and walked in circles to avoid having to take off our boots and wade across the estuary. In these areas you had to watch for quick sand. The grain of sand is very fine and the current of water runs beneath the sands surface, creating suction and no resistance for the step. After hours of searching for a shallow passage we unlaced our boots and made the cross safely. The hike was very tiring along Te Werahi beach because most of the energy from our steps was lost in the movement of the sand. After the beach we began a very steep ascends up a narrow trail to the peak of cape Regina’s highest mountain. The scenery at the most northern point was breathtaking. The South Pacific and Tasman Seas was crashing together catalyzing large waves with a tropical blue hue.

After many serene yet grueling climbs and descends we reached our camp site at 16:00, much earlier than expected. At this point we were both moving like old men, our legs were filled with lead, our feet riddled with blisters and our asses raw with chafe. The campsite was at a secluded campground you could reach only by traveling hours on dirt roads. We had the campground to ourselves until two beautiful Germen women pulled up in a van next to us. The tide was moving in quickly and this was where we had to make the crossing but Stephens’s infatuation with the German babes caused us to miss our window. Nothing more escalated from this scenario and in order for us to make our pickup point the next day we had to wade across the bay at 02:00. A full moon helped us make a safe passage through the bay where we quickly re-set up the tent and fell back asleep.

You would think that wading in salt water and walking through a field of waist high grass at 02:00 is a little unnerving but here in New Zealand it gives you peace of mind to know that there are no snakes, ticks, spiders or insects that will harm you.


The next morning arrived early. Both of us were awake in time to have a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. Again we were blessed with another gorgeous day. The hike began at 09:00 with a 1.5 hour climb that caught us by surprise. Throughout the entire afternoon the trail slowly descended along the spine of a 500m mountain giving us a clear view of the south pacific on one side and Hobbit like terrain on the other. By the time we reached the final stretch of Pandora’s beach, our bodies were dipping into the Big Mac fat reserves. Shrieking with joy thinking that we only had another hour beach walk left we took off our shoes and decided to soak in all the elements of our victory lap. The finish point was visible but it seemed as though we were not getting any closer. After an hour of walking we put our boots back onto speed up the process because the finish point was not getting any closer. The hour beach walk ended up taking three hours, later to find out it was 9km long.

Reaching the end point an hour ahead of schedule (15:30) gave us both a great sense of accomplishment. What a life changing experience it was. The ice has now been broken and a new chapter in our lives has started to unfold.



Stephen and I are now in Taupo after finishing the first great walk around Lake Waikaremoana. It took 3 day to tackle 46km of moderate terrain. The blog on this tramp will be uploaded by the weekend. Today we are traveling to Tongariro National Park to complete the second great walk through snow capped mountains that are volcanically active. Currently the trail is closed due to heavy snow fall but by tomorrow it may open.

Thank you all for reading. All the best!

Patrick

Puke Green Dream

with Stephen Crabbe

Apparently Stephen Crabbe was a famous NZ swimmer, most older local get real kicks from my name.



Pat and I have landed in NZ safe and sound. So far it has been all biz but still very exciting! We have been staying at X Base ACB (Auckland Central Backpackers) which is the largest hostel in NZ which has 500 rooms, a night club, and a very exuberant global atmosphere. The cost is 25 per night which is expensive but we are in the heart of the city and this is touted as the best place in NZ to begin your adventure. There is talk everywhere about place to get cheap food, drink specials etc.

Believe it or not but we didn’t get jetlag. We left LAX at around 10:30 PM which was a 13 hour flight to Australia, we managed to get a solid nights sleep. I still haven’t figured out the time change but I know we are a day or so ahead?!?

Our room has 8 beds, it is a complete fucking mess and it seems everyone is on a very odd sleeping schedule. I am already used to hearing other people have sex. I mean what are you supposed to do? I have adopted the ear plug/ignore strategy; I don’t think there is any other way. The girl underneath me took my bunk for quite a ride early this morning which was very uncomfortable/humorus/liberating…? I ignored it and tried not to believe I was listening to another man grunt to climax.

The weather is very similar to a Canadian spring here right now with the exception of a warmer sun when it is exposed. The vegetation is tropical and even in the heart of Auckland there is an abundance of trees, grass and parks which are just lovely. People are playing rugby, throwing Frisbees, smoking the reefer, drinking beer, dancing, singing and everything else you can imagine.

We have just purchased a faded puke green 1990 Nissan Sentra wagon for $1800 NZD! We got a $200 inspection and background check for security. We purchased the car at a packpackers car exchange where people like us showcase their car for 3 days for $65. The staff is very helpful and it was a phenomenal experience. We wanted to buy a camper van but they where more like 5G’s for a decent one. The insurance is only $120 for 3 months and gas is about the same price as Canada once you figure out the exchange rate of around 25-30% We are losing our shit thinking about our 1st car and how much of the island this opens up to us. A bus pass for the whole island is over $1000 each. Now we have a sleep able wagon with the steering on the right side…haha.

So apparently Pat has taken up the sleep all day mentality because we need to get going but he won’t get out of bed. I have to try and wake him again because if we don’t go get our car from the garage then we will have to wait until Tuesday (Monday is Labor day).

The world cup rugby game is on tonight which is possibly a bigger deal than the superbowl. The NZ all blacks lost in the quarter finals and the country is still in a state of mourning.

It is everything I imagined and more so far and we haven’t got out of the city! Apparently people like the way we look and talk down here. That’s ok with us.

Welcome to Jamrock

I've finally made it to NZ!

After getting royally shitfaced last night Pat, Graco, Alberta and I strolled the city with heads like coconuts. I came across a sign that said:

"We are 2 girls from Check Republic with a van and we look for 2 men to travel north island this weekend...call this number..."

I looked at Pat, he grabbed the sign and we are meeting for coffee in a few hours...

Our hostle is ballin' We are in a room with 6 others (3girls, 3 guys)

Internet access is expensive so I will write more on my computer and paste it over in the cafe I am sitting in right now.

Peace out

Stince

Changes in Latitude; Changes in Attitude

Stephen Crabbe




Watching gail force winds scream down the Northern California coast in the outskirts of San Francisco was bittersweet. We were buoyed in Sausalito, a posh town with an artsy feel, fine dining, a watering hole and a ferry terminal to San Fran. Looking West from our boat you could see the golden gate bridge funnel into a city skyline where “anything can happen, and your wildest dreams do come true”

There we were, waiting for the Pacific Ocean to die down and become sailable.

Then it happened.

Unpredictably after two days and adopting the group name “yager-bomb boys” we got the phone call from Captain Rick Whiteing. “We’ve got the weather window, let’s try and get to Bodago Bay; we’ll see how the seas are.” Last minute preparations began, all the port holes closed, nothing left unsecured, lines checked, radar on, wind reading, depth gauge, GPS software, marine radio on channel 16, it was time to go.

I couldn’t fight the haunting voices in my head “You should have gotten scopolamine patches” (small tabs that when applied behind your ear, numb the inner ear which is responsible for motion sickness)
“I was sea sick once…” Captain Rick boasted.
“How bad was it?” I nervously quizzed.
“Oh man…I would have chopped off a finger if it gave me relief, I wanted to jump off the boat” He said in a serious, sympathetique tone.
There I am thinking… “Why did I sign up for this?”
Rodney was springing around like Kosmo Kramer, Josh was very monotone, and Pat was excited but I could tell his balls were in his stomach. We pulled the anchor, put the boat in gear, and I shit my pants.


The 1st few hours weren’t too bad, we motor sailed by the Rock, under the Golden Gate Bridge and soaked in the city skyline as the mild fall sun ascended down over the open ocean. The sky was so clear in fact, I witnessed something magical. As the sun sunk over the horizon the very instant it disappeared a green flash occurred. Later learning that the flash was a result of scattering and refracting light I was delighted to experience this beauty on earth. Taken back by the green flash I was reluctant to realize that the sun had descended and the swell was 8-10 feet with 30 knot winds. To make matters worse, the wind was coming from the North and we were pounding into the waves going a meager 5 knots. Do you know the feeling you get in your stomach when you are driving fast and you hit a steep decline and your stomach drops making you laugh? Well the humor is gone when this happens every ten seconds. Imagine the worst airplane turbulence you have ever encountered and multiply it by 100. Add the screaming noise of a massive motor, throw salt water dripping EVERYWHERE, and come to the realization that this is your life for the next seven days…fun.

We worked in tandem watches, one in the AM, one in the PM covering 24-7. Pat and Carey were 8-12, Josh and Rodney were 12-4, and Rick and I were 4-8. This meant that for 8 hours a day you were expected to be up in the cockpit very alert as to what was happening in the ocean. A master log was filled out every two hours which monitored information such as Latitude and Longitude, course over ground, Wind Speed and direction, Wave size and frequency, magnetic direction, etc. One of the biggest fears was plowing into an errant log bobbing in the water waiting to puncture a hole in the keel. Making matters worse we didn’t have frontal sonar so at night we were basically risking it. Another danger possibility was the thousands of ocean containers roaming the earth which have flung off freighters and lay just under the surface of the ocean, out of human sight. If you hit one of these you are done.

Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days as we all sat in the cockpit fighting off the hot water swirling in our mouths like just getting pressured into taking a double shot of white rum. The next 48 hours of my life can be easily documented. I didn’t have an intelligent thought, I didn’t laugh, smile or even string together a coherent sentence, I was a zombie. The waves kept getting bigger and we were being thrashed around. When smaller power boats would go by they were only visible when we were at the top of a swell, otherwise your peripheral vision was a very short sighted. Moving around the boat was a task in itself, even harder was taking a leak. Contributing to this state of agony was the over-the-counter motion sickness pills which were making me drowsy and bunged up. Meals were chocolate bars and chips because going into the galley for more that five minutes and you felt like you were going to hurl. On the bright side because of my 4-8 shifts I got to see every sunset and sunrise which are very cool when you are sailing along, 25 miles off the coast of California.

Then the third day hit, seas were somewhat calm and we all seemed to be talking a little bit more. I even made a chicken sandwich in the galley which was divine. The sun was shining, Rodney and Pat were unsuccessfully trolling for Albacore tuna and Josh and I were relaxing in the outside cockpit exchanging stories of times past.
“Look over there boys” Pat yelled, pointing East.
“Wow…” We all murmured looking over to see a group of Dolphins trailing the Wanderer. Some as close a two feet others a half a mile away, all chasing our boat, it was exciting. Every time you looked you would see more, after a few minutes they were on both sides of the boat. You could tell they were having a blast, every once an a while there would be a frisky one that would explode out of a wave and with an exhale he would turn on his side and make a loud slapping noise on the water. After five or ten minutes of the first sighting there were dozens of dolphins all following us, something that I dreamed of seeing if I ever got the chance to sail.

They say 72 hours is when the average person starts to get his sea legs. For me it was 48. I was cooking up a storm, playing backgammon, reading, watching DVD’s, it was really quite relaxing. I was getting into the routine of waking up at 4am to start my day with naps here and there but never any more than three hours at a time. Kerry also introduced us to a Jimmy Buffet album “Banana Wind”. With a very Caribbean feel to it we played it all day and it really added to the atmosphere of being at sea. It will always remind us of the days we spent motor-sailing the Pacific Wanderer back to Vancouver.
That afternoon which happened to be my 24th birthday the propane stove crapped out and we made the decision to stop in Brookings, Oregon. We pulled into the small fishing village which had a feel to it much like that of Maine. Stepping on solid ground after 50+ hours of rolling and tumbling was nauseating in itself. Pat, Rod, Josh and I went for a stroll to the local pool hall and I still didn’t feel like I was off the boat. We were having a game of pool and it felt as though the floor was moving just like the boat, an unusual sensation. After a great meal and a random entry into a Texas hold-em tournament it was back to the boat for sleep.

The next morning we were off again, saying goodbye to dry land the second time was much easier, in fact I was glad because I had become accustomed to the perpetual movement. Back out on the ocean it was more of the same except for the fact we were coming up on Cape Mendocino which is notoriously one of the worst stretches in the North Pacific Ocean. Our laptop/GPS unit had us making our way around the cape at midnight. When I woke up at 4am for my shift and looked at the two posts on the Captains log the seas were calm! The wind was non-existent and the waves were down to a very comfortable 3-5 feet. Now that we were all salty dogs with sea legs the days were fantastic, filled with fishing, backgammon, decent food, interesting conversation and best of all a tremendous learning experience. This leg of the trip took us just over 72 hours. Days melted into each other and your time became more orientated around your watches. Everyone stopped sleeping as much and we all seemed to be up for most of the day. This became a problem for me because I was only getting maximum three hours a day; I was finding it very hard to fall asleep.

On the sixth day we were slated to round the corner, leave the Pacific Ocean and turn east into the straight of Juan de Fuca. When the sun rose we were experiencing a strong southerly wind which changed the dynamics of the ocean. We rolled out the mizzen, cranked out the furler and rode huge ten foot swells as 30 knot winds sent us screaming North at 12 knots. We took the boat off Autopilot and took turns at the wheel; it was phenomenal! When the boat rose to the apex of a huge swell the 5 ton vessel picked up momentum and jolted forward with the wave. At the wheel it was challenging to keep the boat going the ideal magnetic direction, the waves were so powerful that a few swells could knock the boat off course as much as 20 degrees before you could counteract it. The southerly wind put us into the straight hours before we were slated to be there so we made the turn and kept pushing on to Vancouver. The waters were riddled with massive logs everywhere, we hit one dead on, making three loud cracks as it rolled under the boat but no visible damage was sustained. After a very long day of sailing we decided to anchor 50 miles south of Vancouver because winds were picking up and there were so many islands that we had to maneuver in the dark. At this point in the trip the movement wasn’t bothering any of us, it was more the constant noise of the engine always present, you couldn’t escape it. When the engine was finally turned off after 80+ hours I was a happy man. I laid on my bed which was more like a sliver of space and got 4-5 hours of sleep at once. I still woke up at 4am and had a rough time getting back to sleep but I managed to do so.

25 days after I left Canada with Dad and Pat, I was about to come back to our nation via the Pacific Wanderer. That last day was filled with as sense of accomplishment and camaraderie among all gentlemen onboard. The trees surrounding the metropolitan area of Vancouver are changing color filling the scenery with reds, oranges, and yellows that remind me so much of New Brunswick. I couldn’t help but think of years past making the road trip home from Fredericton for thanksgiving weekend. The trees color rushed back memories the drive home, the smell of crisp fall air, turkey, and great company.

My thanksgiving “road trip” this year is one I will never forget.

I could say so much more but I don’t want to take anymore of your time. We are now in the process of getting to the South Pacific. Vancouver is sure full of obstacles that sidetrack you from getting organized but we hope to be flying to New Zealand by next week.

Thanks for reading the blog.

Stephen