Girl meets boy on a beach in Costa Rica. Boy invites girl to dinner, aboard his yacht to enjoy fresh fish caught by his bare hands, in fact, it was a shark, wrestled to the shore saving all the local swimmers from a feisty attack!! ; ) Less than 12 months later, girl leaves "normal" life on land, to set sail with boy. For an intrepid adventure, fighting fearsome waves and terrifying weather to discover the luxurious beaches of the South Pacific Islands.  Follow the journey of Barraveigh exclusively in the Escape Artist Travel Magazine. – Editor

My uncle Bill, via long range email on the single side band radio, had described the process for realigning a dislocated finger, and it didn't sound like a bucket of joy. This one was seriously out of joint after trying to loosen a jammed headsail in 20 knots of wind. It pointed violently toward my thumb with no accord to the harmony of the other 4 digits. Suzi's instructions were to pull it out so it can reseat itself. We tried several times, and to no resolve. No pop, no straightening, just ripe pain searing along the length of my ring finger every time she gave it a yank.

Then the alarm on the GPS went off. I had programmed it 10 days before when we left the Galapagos Islands for the Marquesas Islands of French Polynesia. The alarm denoted the halfway mark. I was 1500 miles from land. That's the farthest you can get on this planet from terra firma. My engine was leaking oil & diesel, the generator only continued to run if you hand pumped the fuel ball, and the headsail had jammed in the track in such a way that I couldn't reef it entirely. And of course, I have only one functional hand. But first, let's focus on the fun stuff - The Galapagos Islands consist of 19 islands with about another 100 islets. Only 4 of the islands are inhabited. 30,000 people live there. There are discos, bars, restaurants, home appliance stores, jewelry stores, art boutiques, and more tourist boats than Cabo San Lucas and Mazatlan combined. The infrastructure is excellent and the science centers are free and very well done, but despite its isolated location, the place is highly developed and expensive. If you are planning a trip there, do it sooner than later. As much as Ecuador would have you believe otherwise, the islands that Darwin made famous as a hot bed of scientific study are already a major tourist trap. Did you know that there are penguins at the equator? They are absolutely adorable, too buoyant for their own good, and fast under water. They are good friends with the seals, and can often be seen playing around the anchored boat. I called to a seal one day and he swam right over and tried to jump aboard as if just waiting for the invitation. He was literally inches from my face. Other yachties have had to shoo them out of the cockpit. One morning as I was underwater scrubbing the prop I felt something behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find a small seal, submerged, yet vertical, with curious head cocked and gazing at me, wondering how I was going to eat that piece of metal.  I saw enough tortoises to last a life time. They live so long it's possible that some of the ones I met may have met Darwin. And yes, they are gigantic. The turtles, on the other hand, aren't that large and it's loads of fun to see them swimming. They look slow but if you try to catch them, which you should never do, you'll soon learn they are actually quite fast. The marine iguanas are as black as the lava rocks they lounge upon. They're perfectly camouflaged, with a face that looks stern and dignified even though their pajamas don't fit quite right. Sometimes you'll see them lazily swimming across the bay, late for a nap.  We left the Galapagos island of Isabela April 24, 2007 at 11:30 am. No wind and calm seas with a 6 second swell from the south. The conditions didn't change for 50 hours. We caught a favorable current and motored along at 7.1 knots with only 1500 RPMs. My strategy is to head more south than west in hopes of finding wind. I'm still too far east to drop straight south and catch the trades so there needs to be some westing in my trajectory. I'm hoping to shave a week off the 30 day passage. In the mornings I sweep the desiccated flying fish off the deck, patrol for signs of chafe, and squint into the rising sun through heavy cumulus clouds. At noon I lead a radio net with 5 other boats. We set it up before we left. The goal is safety and strategy. The safety part is obvious, the strategy is really for the following vessels so they can decide which lead boats they want to emulate. In the evenings we play cards, read, run the generator to replenish the batteries for the night and offer praise to Otto. Who's your best friend? A long haul sailor will answer that question only one way, "My Auto Pilot". This 3 week journey would be an entirely different experience without "Otto".  Since the swell is running beneath us faster than our speed and because the wind and waves our on our stern quarter, Barraveigh yaws and dips and tosses us around a considerable amount. It would be stupid to try and eat off a plate. Bowls only. Suzi has her two step crab shuffle perfected, and we both show off our bruises. I couldn't help but smile when she took a tumble after a big roller and she declared at the top of her lungs, "Ow! My arse bone!" So cute. She was finally able to laugh about it today.

Captain and Crew British and Proud Long live the tortoise Message for  home - Missing You For more photos taken on the journey visit www.suziroberts.co.uk

Our inability to sail directly downwind was further compounded 2 nights ago by the fact that the furling line had chewed through a point of chafe (that I had somehow missed) and parted at midnight in 28 knots of wind as it completely deployed itself. When it's howling 28 knots you reef to expose less sail to the wind. The last thing you want is more sail. I suddenly had a lot more. The boat accelerated almost immediately. I needed to get this situation under control at once. 

"Suzi! Wake up and suit up! I need you!" We put on our harnesses and I clipped into the jack lines that run the entire length of Barraveigh. I crawled forward with fresh batteries in my headlamp in order to inspect the situation. Once I put the repair plan together in my head I pulled myself back towards the cockpit and shouted to Suzi what I would need: 2 oversized carabineers and the new green furler line. Again I crawled forward with the vessel awash up to the mast every time she sped into another green wave. If I go overboard, there is no way Suzi will ever find me, let alone get me back in the boat. In an ocean this large with help so far away, if you can't save each other - you're done.

Every move was literally life or death. I had to tie the frayed line to the new one and use the carabineers to redirect the angle of pull so it wouldn't chew through again. Damn. I should have caught that days ago, then I wouldn't need to be up here risking my bacon now. Sheets of water conspired against every step I needed to complete. The pain in my dislocated finger was a constant reminder that I couldn't trust that hand to hold me should I bounce over the rail. I moved slowly and deliberately, careful not to drop anything or overextend my balance. I got the lines joined, and screamed for Suzi to start furling it in.

She did, and the boat came back into control as her speed diminished. Good - now I needed to find a place to secure the carabineer. The toe rail hole was perfectly located; I just couldn't get enough body weight on the line to push it into the jaw of the carabineer. I took a calculated chance and lifted myself up quickly and practically sat on it. It worked.

It looked good. It still does. I now check it regularly, and I adjust all lines a few inches every other day, just in case I can't see if they're wearing. That was harrowing and I never want to repeat it. I sense inwardly though, that in some way, I am stronger for having lived through it. This trip is like a 5 year "Outward Bound" program, except, this is the extreme version on steroids, with zero "do overs". We expose ourselves to our fears in hopes of overcoming them. Sir Robin Knox-Johnston said, "…sailing is chess with pull-ups." That's the honest truth. We need to think at least 2 steps ahead and physically live up to the challenges as well. Melville wrote in Moby Dick, "Ignorance is the parent of fear." The trick is to educate myself on the possible pitfalls I might encounter and understand that I am self sufficient enough to handle them. In so doing, I melt away the fears.

There is a level of consciousness one attains when at sea. It's a level of awareness that I (and I can only speak for myself) never approached when I lived on land. The music that the water makes as it fingers the hull, and what its changing octaves mean in terms of acceleration and heel. I can accurately guess the speed of the vessel within a tenth of a knot from the sound alone (as I lie sleeping, no less). I am deft at spotting the "cat's paws" on the water, and how to pursue the elusive zephyr. I have a special relationship with the clouds now, when never before did they reveal their intentions to me. I'm a palm reader if you don't believe, but if you've been out here, and lived this existence, than you know it's not snake oil I'm selling.

My cousin Don recently emailed me and he wrote of planting bird seed millet and getting the corn crop in the ground. He's the real deal; a farmer in Nebraska. That's a man that has an intimate relationship with his surroundings and the forces upon them. I've spent the majority of my life in cities of over 3 million. And most of those cities never had 4 seasons. I was detached from the rhythms of the wilderness. I was an uninvited gate crasher when I stuck my toes in the big salty to test the waters, and I am just now beginning to feel like I have the playbook for this Sunday's game. There is a brotherhood between those who depend on the weather. Tonight I'm lifting my drink to the dazzling array of brilliant stars that can only be seen from the outskirts of civilization. 

The finger hurts constantly, and we won't be out of danger until we're anchored 10 days from now, but I know we can do this.

- Captain Bob -

This website will keep track of our journey.  Please feel free to contact us, we enjoy the feedback. Click Here to Contact Bob Friedman and the Crew of Yacht Barraveigh