Yesterday I was on my way to Bermuda from Miami approx 10.000 meters above the sea, and had some confused, tangled thoughts around this trip. Erik taught me the indian phrase, that he learned while hitchhiking through Mexico in his earlier days: ‘don’t travel faster, than your soul could follow.’ I feel, now I’ve been traveling with light-speed and I have hard time to catchup with, what’s next.
Sam has departed 2 days ago, and Erik yesterday from St Martin, back to Europe on two different boats, and as it stands, I’m staying around in America, so this is truly an end of a chapter and a start of a new one. I think at this point, I have processed the fact of us parting ways – I have written about this in more detail in the earlier post, that process definitely took me some time.
It’s a pity, that I don’t post more to this blog, but whenever I get the time, I try to put some effort in the writing process, which requires a settled mind and surrounding. It’s a kind of meditation for me, a confession, that needs space and time. This post will talk about, why I have decided to stop the ‘no-fly’ travel mode, at least momentarily. And how this has shaped how to think about my journey onwards.
I’m just drinking my coffee
A dude, long haired, well-shaped, alike my age, stepped next to me in the Lagoonies sailor’s bar in St Maarten. I was drinking my morning coffee, journaling, so I didn’t bother much. He looked a bit mysterious, shy, or just politely preserved. He’s been hanging around in the bar for a while and he seemed he was looking for something and when he stepped at the cashier to pay his bill, since he saw I was writing about my sailing qualifications, he finally asked, ‘Are you looking for day-work?’ I said, a bit stunned by the question coming from him as he looked more like a peer to me, ‘Sure, why not’. He introduced himself as Santiago from Spain. My work at the boat repair workshop came to an end a few weeks back, and my cash-flow was deeply heading south, so any sort of income at that point, sounded promising. ‘Is it your boat?’ I asked. He said, no, ‘I’m the captain’. ‘A young captain. Rare like a black swan’, I thought. When I asked how big the boat was, I think I misunderstood his answer. I heard out something like 40-45ft (for better understanding, a 40feet boat is about 12 meter long, and just for comparison, Erik’s boat is 32ft, which means, slightly over 9 meter long). He was looking for two more day-workers, so I thought, ‘Why on earth, does he need three day-workers on a 45ft boat? One, or at max two should be enough.’ But it didn’t concern me much at that point. I asked ‘Are finances involved?’ He said ‘Yes’. And the number was more than promising. Almost the double I made by repairing boats. The project started to look interesting. At the same time, you learn fast in the boating industry, that you are only on a boat, when you stepped on it’s deck, so I took his offer with caution, like ‘I’ll see, when I’m on the boat.’
Ikigai
The next day, when he picked me up with his tender at the same bar, I realized, I’ve met him already. A few weeks ago, he came by Shrimpy’s, the hostel I lived at, at the time with Sam, sharing a bunk bed in true luxury and abundance. With all sarcasm involved. Shrimpy’s is not just a hostel by the way, but also a laundry and a sailor’s second-hand shop and workshop, a real sailor’s salon, which gave us a great chance with Sam to meet other sailors, who have just arrived on the island or already lived there for a while. His tender, which means the boat as well, was called ‘Ikigai’ (since the tenders are named after the boats). I even told him back then, while chilling at Shrimpy’s pontoon, when he stopped by to arrange the laundry, ‘That’s a beautiful name for a boat.’ Ikigai is a Japanese expression and it incapsulates the ‘reason, why you wake up in the morning.’ It’s an activity, which is a fusion of purpose, value contribution to society and flow. Ikigai is often brought in parallel with the blue-zones of Japan, where the elders, close to their centurion age still stay active, working and contributing to the community.
He was highly confident running the tender, that blazed through the St Maarten lagoon with its 60 hp 4 stroke engine, like a Ferrari. I had to hold my cap down with my hand, so the apparent wind wouldn’t blow it off. We went to the boat the four of us, with two other day-workers, Toby and Kieghley. The boat looked bigger than 45ft from the distance. As we’ve got closer, Toby, the other day-worker from Australia asked, ‘How big is this boat again?’ And Santiago said, now without any room for misunderstanding, ‘It’s 84ft’. ‘Damn, that’s a big ass boat. More like a ship.’ I was thinking. As we’ve got closer, the ship looked bigger and bigger. Once I’ve stepped on, I was amazed by the boat’s design. ‘This is undoubtably the most beautiful boat I’ve ever stepped on.’ I thought. ‘It’s an 84ft sailing boat. And it looks like a wonder.’ Our job was to scrub off the teakwood’s dirt, to polish the stainless steel and the gelcoat from outside. Regular dayworker’s job. And to make the ship shine, really.
The offer
The work went on smooth, there was a good vibe onboard. The owner, a Dutch gentleman called Arnoud, was also on the boat, however they have left to water-surf soon after. As a wealthy man though, he was attentive and polite with us from the first moment. Over time, we had a couple chats after work in bars and he seemed genuinely interested in our story. After the first half day, during lunch time, Santiago called us aside, and said, ‘Guys, I’m looking for crew to bring this boat from St Maarten to Newport. The itinerary is through Bermuda, New York with last destination, Newport. We’ll take a few photos in front of the statue of liberty with the boat. It’s a paid job. I can pay one crew, if more joins, you are welcome, but the pay splits among the crew. Once we arrive at Newport, I can fly you back.’ We’ve got intrigued by the idea. So that’s how it works on this level. The whole thing sounded super exciting. While the offer was promising though, it was clear that the job would only worth it financially, if only one joins. Since Toby and Kieghley (yes, Kieghley is a bad-ass girl working on boats smashing it, leaving guys in shame with her work ethics) had more stable jobs on the island, they kinda ruled out overtime. I wanted them to be in, as there is more fun if more folks can join – regardless of the pay, but apparently I was left with the idea to join Santiago and Ikigai.
Crossroads
‘You need B1/B2 Visa to join the boat though. ESTA is not enough. There is no US Embassy in St Maarten, so you need to fly over to another island asap for the Visa interview. Either Trinidad, the Dominican Republic or Barbados. I did it in Trinidad, it went super smooth.’ Santiago said. ‘Wow.’ I thought. ‘Wow. Hold on for a sec. That’s a real backlash. That’s a hard one. I need to give up my ‘no-fly’ travel project idea for that. And it’s in the wrong direction to my destination.’ The vibrant energy was so high in the room though, and the vibe was so positive, that I thought then. ‘I will do it. I’ve already crossed an ocean. Traveled approx. 9.000kms without fly, lived in hitchhiker camps, one and a half month on sea. It was a solid start. But when an opportunity is calling for you, I’ll not be the one rejecting it at this point. It doesn’t move me an inch forward to my actual destination, Patagonia after all. I can still make it back to square one, to St Martin after this trip and continue the trip via boats. And this experience might even unlock me further ‘no-fly’ projects over time.’ With no second thoughts in mind, I was all set. Got the application form ready, for B1/B2 Visa with a solid background story. For your understanding, B1/B2 Visa is necessary when accessing US waters. Via fly, for EU citizens granting an ESTA would be enough. I was already thinking for a while to get my B1/B2 at the time, which in turn, would enable me to charter sailing boats on US waters, earning some cash and get more boating experience at the same time. So it sounded like a win-win, a true manifestation of the idea, that I originally had in mind. And I finally get to see Trinidad. Since meeting Fabio and Leanna back in Las Palmas, Trinidad was in the back of my mind for a while. I haven’t moved from St Martin/Maarten for more than 2 months, so it was time to pull the trigger on something. I’ve got too comfortable on the island, building an anti-traveler life. So I said, let’s go.
Mental prep
Since then, the boat has departed from St Maarten towards Bermuda, so I’ve been flying her with a connection through Miami. This is my first assignment as a sailor, to help delivering Ikigai as crew to New York and from there, onwards to Newport, where the boat will participate a West to Eastbound Atlantic crossing race.
On one hand, I’m excited for the opportunity that found me and the level of trust I’ve got from Santiago and the Ikigai team, despite my lack of qualifications, on the other hand though, I know, that another level of presence will be needed from me during the cruising. I haven’t been sailing for over 2 months, and the sailing muscles can get rusted easily. How to behave onboard, what are the things to look out for, how you preserve your body and mind to keep yourself in shape, are all parts of living a sea life out there.
While I have spent one and a half month on Erik’s boat crossing the Atlantic, this ship with such size is a whole different ball game. A sailing boat on the open sea is let alone a lethal weapon – not even considering the sea, where multiple things can go wrong. Sail sheets and lines can cut-off fingers or hands, the boom can smash heads off. No jokes. A fellow-hitchhiker just had to finish her trip due to an injury caused by a jib-sheet cutting her hand and dislocating her wrist. She is going through her second surgery as I’m writing this. I wish the best to her healing process from here.
Going to Newport will allow me taking a glance at the pro, racing sailing world. I consider this trip as the fruition of the persistence I have put into the process over the past 6 months starting with my first sailing class back in Gibraltar last December, hitchhiking boats back in Europe to cross the Atlantic, working with Erik onboard to bring his boat safely to America, and day-working on the Caribbeans to sustain my traveling and learn more about the boating industry. At the same time, showing up at a new place and facing the unknown there, sounded like a true traveler’s challenge, that I could not neglect to have been attracted by as well.
Transforming travel plans
My ‘no-fly’ travel project has been transforming into something else at this point. This is important to point out, because part of the drivers, why I wanted to cross the ocean and go down to Patagonia without fly, was fueled by fear and anxiety of the future of this planet. Environmental anxiety, war anxiety, AI anxiety. Fears of, if I’m able to provide a brighter future to my own kids someday than my own was. And asking myself, if it’s even ethical to have my own kids with almost 8 billion people on this planet. Isn’t it more ethical to just pick one, from who is already here and give them a better life? I will not go into too much detail on this topic for now, I hope I’ll get there to debrief it someday in another post.
So I’ve been thinking, if this is not a ‘no-fly’ project anymore, then what is it, really? I didn’t start this trip only for my own amusement, an important factor was to find a healthy relief from the above mentioned anxieties, and at the same time, to learn from very different kind of people one can meet on such a journey. And last but not least to gain a diverse experience from situations that can randomly arise during travel. Does it mean, that some of these anxieties got dissolved over time and I gave my blessings on flying now? I have no idea. I couldn’t have imagined flying over from Europe to America. But who knows, maybe if I wouldn’t get lucky with Erik, apparently, I might have changed my mind and still flew over.
A spiritual journey following dreams and the flow
That’s where I have to reframe my journey into something more compounding than a mere ‘no-fly’ travel project. And call ‘luck’ something else, that is better grasping the idea of the people and situations I have been meeting and dealing with along the way. I am a believer, that the people I’ve met on this trip and the situations I’ve been going through, were not just a mere display of plain luck, but more of a cocktail of how the universe was playing it’s cards in odd ways for me. We can call it a manifestation of a Godlike experience. And it worked only by having a deep faith in the process. Without faith, it had been destined for failure from day 1.
Before I started this trip, I had deep insecurities facing external expectations not meeting, of what I wanted to do. My mom wanted me to settle down, find work, get a normal life. I didn’t want any of that. I just couldn’t, simply. I was unable to. I think a journey like this, doesn’t really work otherwise. You need to have a strong enough reason why you want to separate from your loved ones seeking for relief from strangers and extreme situations. Coelho’s Alchemist had a deep impression on me, just reading it before starting the trip. Santiago’s journey was exactly what I wanted to have. Getting into weird situations that I had to solve and by resilience, faith and having the right intentions getting through adversities. Having a strong enough dream that’s worth striving for. And I created that dream by hitting Patagonia on the map.
At the beginning of this journey I was so lonely in the process, that all I could do was praying for help. I have never sailed before and for a start, I asked Chatgpt what to do. No jokes. I entered a few Facebook groups to see the people who want to cross oceans, because I had no idea, how to start even thinking about the process. I have seen Marcin’s post, a Polish hitchhiker’s, who was sitting in the La Linea camp at the time looking for boats. Something got clicked with his post, he was just leaving his software engineering role for travel. I whatsapped him. He answered. 6 months fast forward, we just had a call yesterday, he was calling me from Medellin, from a hostel in Colombia, where he has hitchhiked with boats through the Atlantic and the Caribbeans. Back in La Linea, he was just about to give up, after one month of boat search without any success. That morning he’s got a note from a sailor in Poland. He joined a regatta boat crossing the ocean. Racing through, really. I’m sitting in Bermuda, waiting for my boat to arrive to start the first assignment as a sailing crew. What’s that, if not a manifestation and realization of dreams? Each experience got unlocked through some sort of investments and sacrifices though. It’s not all as shiny and glowing as it may seem from the outside. There is also a lot to deal with as a traveler.
I’ll tell you a few other examples. I desperately wanted to cross the ocean with someone, who could teach me sailing. Before I started, I was romanticizing sailing of the 60s and the earlier 20th century with Chichester and Moitessier. So I found Erik, by ‘plain luck’, whose sailing heroes were Slochum and Moitessier. A kind of Moitessier on his own. I had to financially sacrifice to unlock the trip. I wanted the ocean crossing to be a great experience. A few weeks ago, he said, Sam and I were his best working crew so far in his sailing time. It wasn’t because it was easy, but more due to the problem-solving focused mentality Sam and I had during the crossing. The wind-pilot broke on the middle of the ocean and we were steering manually for 18 days. Was that easy to wake up every 3 hours managing a 1.5 hours shift? Not really.
Then I crossed the ocean, I wanted to work for someone, who can teach me something about boats. So I have met Lionel by ‘plain luck’, who ran his workshop and gave me a chance to work for him having his employees and my co-workers teaching me all kinds of things about boats. My sacrifice was the time and energy I have invested in, giving up the idea of progressing towards West with my travels. Then the work stopped, but I believed, there might be something bigger on the rise. So the boat sitting came and eventually met Santiago by ‘plain luck’. My sacrifice for this experience was to give up the ‘no-fly’ project. And of course there was hard day-working too in 30C degrees.
At this point, I wonder what’s next in the process. The flow has brought me to Bermuda so far. With the Chinese farmer’s words from the famous story, I can only say, ‘we shall see’, or with Erik’s phrase ‘I’ll tell you later.’ I’ll do the best in my control to get the most out of this experience under my watch sailing to Newport and what’s next, is a mystery. I’ll keep the eyes open and shall see where they will lead me to.
