It is
well known and long established that even the best-laid of plans are subject to
change. We set out on this voyage with a clear objective and destination, and
so it is with heavy hearts that we must finally concede that our initial plans
have escaped beyond our reach. After much careful thought and consideration,
Lars and I have come to the conclusion that Australia, and now even Tahiti and
French Polynesia, are simply not feasible destinations for our voyage aboard Lacuna. Time and money, those two
constraining factors that dictate trips such as these, have conspired and
finally succeeded in thwarting our best efforts, a difficult reality we are
both reluctant to accept.
Even in hindsight it is difficult to
see where things got away from us. I really do believe that much of it was
simply trying to do too much with too little from the very beginning. Our early
plans for the voyage, sketched out way back in the summer of 2013, had given us
a bit more leeway in terms of cash as well as roughly twice the time we ended
up having available. From September of one year to November of the next—now that’s
all the time in the world! Surely plenty enough to figure out logistics for a
South Seas Voyage, acquire and make seaworthy a vessel, make early headway
south to avoid the hurricane season and even enough time to enact some creative
fundraising solutions for our cash problem. But life has a way of getting in
the way, especially when it’s the lives of two young men with all kinds of
other things going on and “real life” just beyond the horizon. Our September
start got pushed back to January, and our November ending was ultimately moved
up to August. We thank Those Who Employ College Graduates for being totally unable
or unwilling to get clear dates or commitments to us, for if we had expected
these subtractions from our timeline we could have altered course much sooner. Instead
we pressed on, I suppose deluding ourselves with notions of accomplishing
everything we had planned within just a fraction of the allotted time.
| Panacea, later rechristened Lacuna |
In November the time came for us to
put our money where our mouth was and purchase our boat. I had been looking at
boats for months and found Panacea on
Craigslist, a steal for only $12k. Never mind just how much work she needed put
into her—this was a Westsail! The boat that launched a thousand dreams! If any
boat could carry us across the Pacific it would be this one, originally produced
decades ago in Southern California and designed expressly for long ocean
crossings and heavy seas. The hull was in good condition and everything of
structural importance was intact; however the electrical system had been
removed, the engine was of dubious condition, and all the liveaboard systems
such as the head, the refrigeration unit, the stove and more needed work.
We had picked a fixer-upper, and eagerly got to work in January. For the next two months we spent 12-14 hours a day working on the boat every day. It was quite satisfying and didn’t feel like work because we were working toward our goal, our ocean crossing. By and by, the expenses starting adding up. My initial expense estimates ballooned, ultimately more than doubling from what we had anticipated. With all the work we did and with help from a good number of friends, things were taking just too long, and we had to spend even more to have a couple tasks finished for us so we could embark before it was too late. Even then, we left San Francisco with more than a couple systems far from up and running: refrigeration, sailing/wind instruments, windvane self-steering, bilge pumps, solar panels, a chartplotter and more were all nonoperational. The old boatowner’s adage of everything costing twice as much and taking three times as long began to really prove true; what we had planned as a long, relaxing voyage preceded by a bit of boatwork became a lot of boatwork followed by some voyaging, with more boatwork along the way.
We had picked a fixer-upper, and eagerly got to work in January. For the next two months we spent 12-14 hours a day working on the boat every day. It was quite satisfying and didn’t feel like work because we were working toward our goal, our ocean crossing. By and by, the expenses starting adding up. My initial expense estimates ballooned, ultimately more than doubling from what we had anticipated. With all the work we did and with help from a good number of friends, things were taking just too long, and we had to spend even more to have a couple tasks finished for us so we could embark before it was too late. Even then, we left San Francisco with more than a couple systems far from up and running: refrigeration, sailing/wind instruments, windvane self-steering, bilge pumps, solar panels, a chartplotter and more were all nonoperational. The old boatowner’s adage of everything costing twice as much and taking three times as long began to really prove true; what we had planned as a long, relaxing voyage preceded by a bit of boatwork became a lot of boatwork followed by some voyaging, with more boatwork along the way.
So here we sit in Bahia de Tortugas
(Turtle Bay), halfway down the Baja coast, weighing our contingency plans and
calculating how much more time and money each will require. Crossing the Pacific
is out of the question on both accounts; we’re far enough behind that hurricane
season is underway and it would be quite dangerous even to remain in southern
Baja much longer, not to mention that we would need a few thousand more to
invest in the boat in passage preparations.
| Bahia de Tortugas |
This
leaves two alternatives for us: either continue south in Mexico and sell the
boat in La Paz, Mazatlan or Puerto Vallarta, or turn tail and flee back
northward to California and sell it there. Every other boat we’ve seen from San
Diego south has been moving north in advance of hurricane season, and we get
some pretty funny looks when we tell people we’re headed south. I’m not usually
one to care much what other people think or have to say about my plans, but
hurricanes are serious business and it is certainly worth lending some credence
to the salty old sailors who have warned us away. On the other hand, the Sea of
Cortez is a storied cruising ground, replete with coral reefs, stunning
anchorages and mangrove-fringed islands, whereas the retreat to San Diego would
be long, uncomfortable and directly against the prevailing winds, not to
mention that it would feel cowardly and antithetical to our trip’s spirit. We
both would much rather continue on to new destinations, in the Sea of Cortez
and south along the Mexican mainland. We certainly can stay in Mexico as long as we pay close attention to the
weather, so that if extreme weather develops we can be prepared and flee to a “hurricane
hole” for shelter if necessary. However, a hurricane isn’t something either of
us wants to experience from the inside of a boat, even if we are in a
well-sheltered bay or marina. Also we must consider the price we can fetch for
the boat in California compared to in Mexico; if we can recoup more of our
investment in one location or the other, then that will certainly play a role
in our decision. Whatever our decision ends up being, we are set on continuing
from here on to Cabo San Lucas and will be departing tomorrow for the four day
trip south. Wish us fair winds and following seas, and we’ll post again from
Cabo with an update as our plans continue to evolve!
| Lacuna headed out to sea |
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