Friends Over the Horizon
One morning, I woke early with the sunrise and took my coffee onto the dock. The dew blistering the wood planks felt cold and refreshing on my feet. I strolled along a line of boats tucked in and tied up, every slip filled with friends we've known from as far as the South Pacific (Stuart and Anne on Time Bandit) as recently as South Africa (Kevin and Janine on Fluid Motion), and everywhere in between.
At the end of the line, the dock looks out toward two bridges opening in thirty-minute increments. There, I found Anne enjoying her morning cuppa, musing the same thoughts as I.
“Good morning," I said as she turned to see me approaching.
“Good morning," she said. “Today's the day.”
“Georgia?" I ask.
"Yep,” she paused and looked back at Georgia, the ship’s crew already on deck uncovering sails, tidying lines, and making her ship-shape. "We’ve been sailing together since Indonesia.” Anne explained.
I nod. We’ve been enjoying Pete and Jen's company since Thailand/Malaysia, and Mark and Susan have been with us since Sri Lanka. “They call us The Three Amigos,” I said to Anne, referring to the way we stuck together through the Pandemic.
Anne and I sip our coffee in silence for a moment. “Bahh!” I say, waving my hand. “It’s never goodbye. Catch you later, right?"
“Usually," she says. “It feels different this time, though. Georgia is finishing their circumnavigation.” Anne says, both of us knowing the sailor’s pleasure of linking up with friends feels less inevitable once someone swallows the anchor and climbs ashore.
Sailing friendships are something unique. What other friendship might you have that so closely mimics your own life? We have the same jobs: stay alive at sea. We have the same immediate family structures: our ship and its crew. We have the same life goals: circumnavigate the globe. We live in the same neighborhood (today's anchorage), drive the same kind of cars (dinghies), and we have the same kind of wardrobe (Engine Room Underpants and the Good Underpants). Not every sailor will become a fast best friend, but when they do, it's a relationship with bonds. We save each other's sanity if not each other's lives - with the latter being reasonable possible given the way we share spare parts, repair knowledge, medical kits, and our ship's thanksgiving stores.
“It’s a different kind of friendship, isn't it?" I say to Anne. Together, we nod.
For the next several weeks, the Oddgodfrey schedule was booked for “one last hike,” “one last dinner” “one last trip to the wine tunnel,” another “one last dinner because the weather did not cooperate” with a whole string of friends.
Each time another boat would shove off, the whole leftover fleet would gather with our cups of coffee and volunteer to toss one line or the other to our departing friends. We would wave and cheer, then walk to the far end of the dock to watch them duck under the opening bridge.
Then, they would be gone.
We would return to our own little ship to schedule our work or exploration for the day. As our numbers dwindled, more and more often, Andrew and I were left to our own devices.
The Oddgodfreys: Unsupervised
We kicked off Andrew’s 40th Birthday Extravaganza by checking off a bucket list item: to scuba dive the Kelp Forest. Matt and Amy from SV Florence came along, and it turned into an epic (if not freezing cold) time in the water with zooming, playful fur seals who liked to nibble our hats.
Diving started the momentum and we rolled into an extended weekend of Captain Andrew Styled Adventures: mountain biking, movie night under the stars, cocktails and dinner while nestled in the old library of a historic Cape Town property, and a Chocolate Silk Pie
We visited Simonstown & met the Cape’s handsome “Penguinos”
We took a road trip Northward along the coastline to South Africa’s “all white” city, Patternoster, where all the buildings are pristine white plaster set against that pure blue sea. It’s beautiful, and the seafood is delicious there, too.
“We are pretty good at traveling with just the two of us,” we said, thinking back to the full year we spent traveling through Indonesia, mostly alone. If you get off sync with the fleet, you find yourself without the usual surrounds of sailors. Like birds, we migrate according to weather seasons.
“Yeah, and we still have Andrew Graham. We should invite them over to the boat.” Andrew suggested.
Andrew Grahams: Beware!
Within days of pulling into Cape Town My Andrew Graham was texting Ohio Andrew Graham to say “We have arrived! When do you want to hang out?” The Other Andrew Graham invited us to his home, introduced us to his wife and sons, and cooked us dinner. We ate our meal on their seventh-story patio overlooking a stunning view in this unfamiliar city serving as “home” for now.
“Our friends and family probably thought we were crazy,” both Andrew Grahams and their wives explained. We compared what it is like to shift gears and locations. We bonded over the similarity of experience. Whether you leave by sail, by plane, on foot, or by bicycle – the process and the emotions replicate. Together, we extolled the virtue of intentionally veering off the course we previously saw stretching out into our personal horizons.
However, the Other Andrew Graham would periodically circle around to remind us, “But, you guys really are crazy,” shaking his head and raising another question about survival at sea. We laugh. My Andrew would disappointed if his cannot hold the trophy for the “Most Odd” Andrew Graham in the room.
“You guys should come visit Sonrisa,” Andrew suggested. I’m not sure whether my Andrew Graham thought this would increase or decrease the Other Andrew Graham’s assessment of “crazy,” but it would be solid evidence of something, one way or the other. Our new friends’ eyes lit up with anticipation.
“We would love that!” They said, and we parted with a plan to make another plan.
We made good on this offer, too, and my Andrew Graham cooked everyone his version of chicken and pumpkin curry with the Seychellois red onion, ginger, and spice mix. The Other Andrew Graham’s son, Sebastian, enjoyed Sonrisa’s secret cubby holes and her tables that fold out and appear to surprise you with their convenience.
This is the trick for us whenever we start to feel lonely. Keep busy, keep ourselves “out there” and interesting people come our way.
It happened again on our road trip back to see Cape Agulhas from the “land-side.”
Meet Up With A Kiwi Guardian Angel
Cape Agulhas is about an eight-hour drive back along the coast we just sailed. The scenery along the road is worth the drive itself, and if you navigate yourself properly, you can transit through the Arde & Hemel wine region where South African winemakers grow the very best pinot noir grapes. We left Kitty in the care of her favorite new friend, Conrad - At least he hadn’t left yet! - and made a weekend of it.
First stop – a winery called Spookfontien, named for the waterfall on its property that stops flowing and reverses course skyward in the worst of the Coast’s fierce weather. “The mist looks just like a ghost hovering over the cliffside,” our wine guide tells us while pouring out spring water that looks unexpectedly green, but that we are assured is quite safe to drink. The wines are tasty, the vineyard beautiful, the resident dog old, sleepy, and basking in the sunshine.
“We need nine lives, like our cat.” I said to Andrew.
“Why?”
“Because, if I had more time, I’d rent that cute little cottage and stay a few weeks.” I said, pointing at the vineyard’s cottages nested in the grapevines. In Napa Valley the same cottage would cost several hundred dollars per night and require years on a waiting list. Here, it is available at a quarter of the cost and generally available except during the high season. But, we had other plans, so we enjoyed a nice lunch before Andrew pointed yet another dolly loaded with crates of wine toward the Grog Wagon.
We drove onward to Cape Aghulas, where we nestled into a beachside cottage built in the local tribe’s style of construction. The day was much warmer here. Leaving layers of jackets and masks behind, we decided to go for a walk along the unique pebbled beach.
There, we intersect along the trail with a man and a woman walking in the opposite direction. They pass Andrew in the lead, and by the time they reach me the man said, “I’m sorry, I have to ask, are you from New Zealand?”
“New Zealand?” I say, “No, we are from the United States, why?”
“Is your husband wearing pounamu?”
At this, I smile but also grasp at my own neck thinking “Well, yes, but I am, too, aren’t I?” My hand paddles at nothing but air, and I have a sinking feeling that I have lost my necklace. I say aloud, “Oh, yes, he is. We visited New Zealand in 2017, and he received the Captain’s fishhook as a gift for his birthday. Are you from New Zealand?”
“Yes! But, I have not been home for a long time.”
At this point, Andrew had stopped and turned back seeing me chatting. “It’s a very nice pounamu,” the man said when Andrew joined our group. We chat for a moment, then part ways. But, I am too worried to carry on.
“Andrew, we have to go back!”
Why?” he asks.
“My pounamu is in distress.”
“What?” he says, eyeing me like the crazy person he already knows me to be.
“My pounamu, it is gone! I think it sent me a Guardian Kiwi Angel to tell me to come find it.!”
Pounamu is well known to be powerful and magical, that is why the Māori love it so. What are the chances of meeting a random guy from New Zealand on this trail and that man taking notice of Andrew’s pounamu, and that man stopping me to chat about it, rather than saying something in passing to Andrew?
[Pete! Don’t roll your eyes, it’s cultural.]
At this Andrew (sensibly) becomes concerned as well. “It’s gone? Where could it be?” He starts looking down along the trail, searching as he walked.
“I don’t know! I’m trying to think,” I sleuth the pictures on my phone and confirm I had it at the winery. We retrace our steps all the way back to the cottage where I start going through all my stuff. “Not here, not here, not here! Ooooh…” I fret. I’ve always loved our pounamu: the fact that we chose them separately but happen to be from the same stone, the fact that the stone happened to be drawn from the same river we camped next to the night before. Magic! I tell you!
Then, my foot touched hovered over something on the floor. Peeking out beneath a ledge formed by the base of the dressing table was the black strand of my necklace, the pounamu stone wedged under the ledge and fully invisible. “There you are!” I say, then call out “I found it!”
“Where was it?” Andrew asked.
I duck my head through the hole and explain its whereabouts. “It must have gotten tangled up with the strings of my Covid mask when I pulled it over my head.
Our Kiwi Guardian Angel came to the rescue a second time when Andrew realized the “fully stocked kitchen” at the cottage included a wine opener, but not a handy fire starter to light the braai charcoal. “Maybe the neighbors have some matches I could borrow.” He marched over to the cottage next door only to find the same Kiwi man in residence. And, he did have matches!
Magic, I tell you.
They invited us over to sip wine while we waited for our respective braai coals to establish a proper glow. We learned that Brian from New Zealand moved to the African continent some thirty years prior to build a safari business. Stocking up more than his fair share of fantastic stories involving rogue lions and orphaned elephants, he spends part of his year in Zambia and part of his year here in South Africa where he met Athlyn. Athlyn is from South Africa. She is very fashionable, and therefore responsible for choosing and procuring stock for a large South African clothing line. Like us, they were out to explore Cape Agulhas for the weekend, but they offered to show us around a few of their favorite haunts while we are in Cape Town.
Cheers to that idea!
As we hiked around Cape Agulhas the next day, and in another nod to New Zealand, we passed the “Māori Memory Stick” back and forth and tried to rebuild the sequence of friends we’ve met and memories made from the shores of California to where we stand today.
“We’ve met a lot of unforgettable people on this trip, haven’t we?” one Oddgodfrey said to another.
“We sure have. It’s one of my favorite parts of this trip.” We agreed.