We’ve been in the Maldives for a week now.   In many ways, it has been a pleasure.  The water is crystal clear and turquoise blue over the patch of white sand in which our anchor rests.  The local people have been safety conscious, but also generous - making sure the sailors get deliveries of fresh provisions when we need them, quarantine officers always present and wearing protective masks and gloves.  Last night, we were given the gift of a beautiful sweet lips fish for dinner, already cleaned and prepared to be grilled as the Maldivians do.  Our friend Immahd provided me with the recipe to make the delicious grilled fish - a paste of red chilli powder, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and a little bit of oil - but he remained sad they couldn’t cook it and prepare it for us at a beach party they would normally throw for sailors anchored in their waters.  We are together, but separate, with sailors limited from coming to land at all.  It’s a sad result, but one we all know is necessary for the time being until we can all understand what will happen with this virus.  It’s for sailors safety as much as Maldivian’s as there have been cases of the virus confirmed here, too, on other islands.

But, as I’m sure is the case for all of us all over the world, uncertainty is a time machine that forces the days to slow to a standstill.  All of us are trying to look at our situation and decide what our next moves must be for our health, our family’s safety, and to preserve as much of our world as we can.  Over and over I see people say: “if only I had a sailboat I’d sail away to safety.”  It’s a romantic notion, to be sure.  But, as I sit here on my sailboat I can tell you it isn’t as simple as that.  Our risks are different than yours, but risks remain.  We feel so far away. 

MEMEs like this flow fast and furious through the sailing forums at the exact same moment my fingers are poised over the keyboard trying to find the words to warn fellow sailors:  “Reconsider leaving port right now.  You may very well find your port of destination closed on the other side of your passage." 

We sailors are notoriously independent spirits.  We must be.  You can’t safely put yourself 1500 miles offshore and not be somewhat self reliant.  When a land person complains of their neighbor’s annoying music or barking dog, we smile smugly and say “Yeeeep.  When I get annoyed with my neighbor, I raise anchor and sail away."  We love our freedom of movement.  It's the whole point.  And so, as I look at the possibility of placing my own neck on the cutting board where a sailor’s last fish was gutted, I knew I may be the butt of some fearmonger shaming. 

But, a real danger exists right now for sailors, and I hadn’t yet seen anyone talking about it: What happens if you are locked out of port in a small sailboat?  Really.  What happens? 

“Just keep sailing.  Sail home to the USA.”  This might be the answer of a sailor who had not practiced extensively with ocean passage planning.  Seasons and weather are not simply an open freeway for you to pass at your whim.  Sure, there are sailors who circumnavigate in races and challenges in one direct sail.  Those people hit significant weather challenges, break many parts of their boats, and they have support.  If something goes wrong, coast guards, mariners, and other people are at the ready to rescue them from their little boats.  In a time of crisis like this - who has the time and resources to fetch you out of the Roaring 40s? That isn't the answer.  We use the countries and lands we visit to stage the next phase of our passages, to make our crossings as safely as possible, and to repurchase supplies that keep our boat running.  Most of the sailors I know would not be prepared to sail a direct route home, the Oddgodfreys included.

“Hi Everyone,”  I write, “I don't want to participate in hysteria, but simply provide a report about what is actually happening out in the field.”

Andrew Godfrey and I have been sailing our circumnavigation since 2016, leaving out of San Diego, California.  This year, we were scheduled to cross the Indian Ocean, and we cast off out of Thailand February 1. Our plan was to visit Sri Lanka and the Maldives, then continue further South toward Rodrigues, Mauritius, Reunion, Madagascar, and South Africa by the end of December 2020. Mid-passage to Sri Lanka, Covid19 documentation requirements changed.  We do not have the ability to download documents at sea and so we had a bit of concern about what we could do. Upon arrival to Sri Lanka, we hailed port control, and were informed we were not allowed into the sheltered water of port until we could provide the documents.  We hove-to off the shoreline and, luckily, were able to use ORoaming (an electronic SIM card service on our OPPO phones) to buy an electronic SIM and pull in the documents while hove-to just outside. 

We enjoyed a nice stay in Sri Lanka until our Sri Lankan visa expired. We then cast off to Uligan, Maldives.  Again, things changed mid-passage. Europe and Iran's infection numbers were climbing, and a number of famous individuals in the United States and Canada were diagnosed with Coronavirus. Travel bans started to go into place. But of course, we didn’t know that because we did not have internet at sea. It was only once we made port to Uligan, Maldives on March 12 that we learned how much had changed. That same day Maldives declared a state of emergency with eight Covid19 diagnosis within their country. Our check in procedures were interrupted with officials being called to an emergency meeting.  They finished the check in later that evening, and we were all glad to be into port.

The next morning, circumstances changed again.  We were not placed in an official quarantine (as we can swim and visit other yachts), but we are participating in isolation procedures. We are not allowed ashore until at least March 23, 2020 and we believe that limitation will be extended for additional time. We are required to track any onset of symptoms and sign off every day that none of those symptoms are present.  We are also instructed to log any local people who visit our boat, however, we are also informed local people should not be visiting our boat.

On an hourly basis announcements are coming out of various countries around us that their borders are closed to travel and that includes sailors.  No one is giving "passage length" warning of these decisions, and they are not taking pity on sailors who are mid-passage out at sea.  We are aware of sailors who have been turned away from various ports. Decisions about port closures come in hours, not days at this time.

We are grateful to have safe harbor right now, and we are planning to sit tight until the dust settles and travel becomes more reliable. As sailors, we love our freedom of movement, and before this week we had a hard time believing we would be denied entry and forced to float around at sea, but Andrew and I are considering that a real risk right now. We don't want our sailing friends casting off from any safe port without at least considering this as a real possibility.

Stay safe out there.

(As of the date of this blog post, all movement in or out of Malaysia, Sri Lanka, India, Australia, the Maldives and South Africa has been officially banned, and we expect other countries may do the same at any moment.)

 I send out varied versions of this story depending on the length and history I deem relevant to the sailing groups I send it to.  And, I hold my breath.  To my surprise, sailors do not light me on fire, but instead express genuine surprise and pause. 

I get messages: “We were just about to re-splash our sailboat to go sailing in Greece, and now you have me thinking about holding tight." 

I close my eyes and wish we could have seen the future back in January.  One of my biggest worries is getting sick ourselves, needing to return to the US for our family, or being forced to leave by our host country.  There will be nowhere for Sonrisa to stay safe.  

I respond:

Well, if you want my unsolicited advice, I will tell you if I were still up on the hard, I'd hold tight.  Up in hardstand is the safest place for your boat to be.  If you have to evacuate, she can sit there and likely be okay waiting for your return.  There just isn't anywhere to haul out or even put Sonrisa in a safe marina throughout much of the Indian Ocean. So, we are very concerned about the risk of having to abandon her. She is our only home, and frankly, a good friend. I would be heartbroken. I'm sure you feel the same way about your boat. Keep her safe, too.

There are many decisions each sailor has to make for themselves based on what their personal circumstances on their own vessel and in the area of the world they find themselves in.  Aboard Sonrisa, we are considering all of the following factors in making our plans:

These factors seem to be moving and changing, and we are discussing so many contingencies depending on which chess piece moves where.  All of this is hard to predict.  And none of us are starting out in a perfect situation.  We each have strengths and weaknesses.  For Andrew and I,  we are lucky because we were well stocked, Sonrisa has recently had her weakest points shored up in our refit, and we were already prepped for survival in long stretches of blue water ocean.  We are less lucky and at risk because our location is far from available health care.  This is a triage situation.  We all need to do our best. 

So, I’m asking myself what I need to do to feel solace if the worst happens.  Who should I be kinder to?  To whom should I reach out?  Who needs me, and what resources do I have available to share?  We all have to be as smart as we can because even if we are in a position of strength today. ”Hey, I’m young and healthy!  I'm not scared!  People are being crazy!” It can all change in a blink.  And, then you will be left hoping someone in a better position will be willing and able to help you. 

We've taken a few wilderness rescue courses in our adventurous lives.  The #1 tenant I carry away from all of those courses has been: pause, think, act. Panic and denial are both factors that leave people in survival situations at risk of acting rashly or not acting appropriately enough.  We have to stay focused and avoid doing anything to make matters worse.