In the days after Jen’s birthday, I kept busy laying down roots like a Mangrove System. I thought I had permission. With all the other sailors having borne off to either the Seychelles or Tanzania long ago, we were the remaining few who thought we would wait until something Eastward opens up (i.e. Thailand or Malaysia).

Andrew’s ongoing theory was that Thailand and Malaysia are the best places to put Sonrisa up in a marina or on land if we need to fly home for any reason; they are good for shipping in parts and pieces for repair; and they have all the facilities he needs to complete such a task if it became necessary. I, on the other hand have been a proponent for holding ground and continuing West if/when that becomes possible.

“You don't want to sail Westward as soon as ports open for transit, do you?" Andrew asked me for clarification one day.

“No, I don't think so. I just don't want to lose ground."

Covid is raising a quandary that seems to repeat itself for us. Should we sail ahead, skip ahead without seeing much just to get this circumnavigation finished as close to on schedule as possible? Or, do we go with the flow and explore as life and the sea allows it? Remember, this was supposed to be a five year trip! (It’s now Year 4.) We had hoped to recover some of the lost year we spent fixing the keel bolts by moving swiftly across the Indian Ocean this year. (Yeah….) But now, all adventuring and exploration are at a standstill for healthy and safety reasons. Borders are closed, and even in the best case scenario all we could really do is sail from one port to the next, get food and water, then sail on. Do we really want to do this and skip Tanzania's Safaris, Madagascar’s Boabab Trees, South Africa's Wine Country, Namibia’s cold desert and starry skies, or a taste of the human culture offered at these various stops along the African continent? We have worked so long to get to where we are, not only to say on paper "we are circumnavigators” but to really see the world.

What should we do? Go East - Press West - Stay Put: these are our options.

Staying put in the Maldives is creating much stress and anxiety for my Captain. I see this every day. With no haul out facilities, very few spare parts and materials to purchase, Covid keeping doors to shops locked, and no marinas, if we stay here for a whole year, Sonrisa will slowly dissolve into that inevitable sludge of fiberglass and stainless steel ocean sailing vessels liquefy to be.

“Malaysia/Thailand gives me the best chance at re-staging Sonrisa's condition. How can we safely sail onward or backward next year if Sonrisa hasn’t been maintained all that time?” So, I relented and agreed if and when Thailand or Malaysia opened their borders, I would willingly help the Captain backtrack.

The Captains and Crew of Steel Sapphire and Erie Spirit seemed to be in accord with this strategy as well. And so, I thought the Three Remaining Amigos were settling in for a long stint at anchor in Addu Atoll until Malaysia or Thailand opened to us. August? September? Hopefully before October. The North Indian Ocean (while it also has Cyclones) has an East setting wind and current that will shoot sailors from the Maldives back to South East Asia like a conveyor belt - but only until about October. Then, the season transitions to very little wind or current anywhere for a month or two, and then switches directions entirely. It’s the only Ocean in the world that has this seasonal reversing trade wind/current, and it’s a fascinating aspect of sailing this area.

“What will we do if Malaysia or Thailand don't open in time?”

The question was posed as we cooked our dinners over the coals of a driftwood fire on “Survivor Island.”

“I don't mind staying here,” I declare. “I can live in the Maldives building beach fires and swimming with Manta Rays for months! Years! If they let me. We will ship parts in. Careen Sonrisa up on the beach for repairs.”

The rest of the group, including Captain Andrew, turn their faces of open doubt to reflect back at me like five full moons. “I can!”

But that night, as we puttered Grin the distance between island and Sonrisa, Grin chattered on and on with some interesting things to say: “Guys, that was fun. I really liked the snorkel over the reef today, oh, oh, and the marshmallows. Wasn’t it funny when Andrew lit his on fire, tried to toss it into the sea and hit me instead? Yuuummmm, Marshmallows. Do you think there will be a place for beach fires in the Seychelles? I love the Maldives, but I think it will be fun to see the Seychelles, too! Maybe we can go tie up at the dinghy dock...maybe I will meet some ladies! Tango, and “She-Who-Has-No-Name” are fun, but I’m the kind of guy who plays best in a crowd. My jokes fall flat in a trio....”

“Grin. What are you on about?” I ask.

“The Seychelles! We are going to the Seychelles, soon!"

“No we aren't.”

“Yes we are!”

“No, we aren't. What gave you that idea?”

“Mark and I were chatting about it last night.”

“You and Mark? You mean Mark on Erie Spirit?”

“Yeah! What other “Mark” could I possibly mean?”

“I had no idea you’ve been chatting to Mark.”

“Of course I do! What, you think I’ll let a man smoke a midnight cigarette on his stern deck without company? He has a great repertoire of Dad Jokes.”

Andrew and I look at each other, a bit surprised. I mean, Mark’s dinghy doesn't even have a name. Naming your vessel is only step one in a long and strange path leading to midnight conversations with the neighbor's plastic, foldable, dinghy over the romantic glow of a cigarette.

“Right,” I say. Well, Mark and Susan might be casting off, but I think the Oddgodfreys are staying right here until Malaysia or Thailand open.”

Grin begins swerving erratically, bouncing and splashing against incoming current waves. "WWWHHHHHAAAAAT!?!??! You mean we have the opportunity to sail to the Seychelles and we are going to sit here twiddling our thumbs? Noooo! Everyone's going to leave us!”

“Steel Sapphire and Tango are going to stay.”

“You, lady, are up in the night. They will up anchor faster than you can say Huvouhandooo when they see Erie Spirit sailing out of that pass. And! Chagos! What about Chagos!? We can't sail halfway across the Indian Ocean and not go see Chagos! Steel Sapphire is going to Chagos."

"How do you know...”

“Tango told me! I believe they already put in their applications.”

“They Brexited. They can't go to Reunion.” I say, as that was their (and our) former sail plan.

Grin huffs. “I don't know about all that. All I know is that Erie Spirit is scheduled to depart July 8, and Steel Sapphire is waiting for Sam the British Indian Ocean Territory Administrator to confirm their BIOT/Chagos permit.”

Just then, we pulled next to Sonrisa's hull. As I go on tying Grin’s leash he continues to pester me. "Grin, today is July 1. There is no way we will be ready to depart by July 8 - even if we thought this was a good idea. And I can't leave the Maldives without SCUBA diving at least once!" But Grin’s disclosure weighs on me as I brush my teeth and ready myself to turn in. It seems our conversation on the beach could be a harbinger for things to come.

A few nights later, Steel Sapphire invites us aboard for delicious homemade Cheeseburgers and Movie Night Viewing of “Waterworld”. I offer to bake the buns.

I scour the internet for a good bun recipe I trust to turn out just right, to find King Aurthur's Glorious Looking Burger Buns. “Perfect." I say, as I reactivate some dry yeast and measure out the quantities of flour with my kitchen scale.

Four hours later....

I start a new batch, feeling like I must have done something wrong in the shaping stage. So, using the same recipe but adjusting my shaping strategy, I make a second batch that turned out exactly the same as the first.

Nailed it!

Unfortunately, even the second batch finished baking forty-five minutes after the scheduled start time for “Nibs and Happy Hour." I arrive sweaty, flustered, and with two separate platters of hockey-pucks for Hamburger buns that Pete and Jen graciously accept in any case. “They taste fine, they just look ugly.” I explain, sitting down to enjoy the conversation in progress.

“...the weather window looks like we have to leave on the 8th to have any hope of sailing to Chagos.” I hear Mark saying.

“We received approval of our Permit today,” Pete said, "What days do you guys have scheduled for yours?" He looks at me.

“We had asked them to delay ours until at least August 1, generally attempting to hold on to the possibility if Reunion or Madagascar opens, but I thought we all had committed to the Eastbound route?” Grumbling, grousing and a general sense that change was on my horizon vibrated through the cockpit.

“You don't want to sit here in the Maldives all by ourselves, do you?” Andrew asks me, “I for one can't sit here for a year with only you and the Manta Ray to converse.”

I'm sure he meant this as a lighthearted marital jab, but it stung a little. Of course I can sit here for a year with only Andrew and the Manta Ray to converse with. If it means we are safe from Covid and Sonrisa doesn't suffer some trip ending damage with nowhere to fix it. “I could. We did it the whole year of off season we sailed through Indonesia.” I argue.

“We were hanging out with locals and exploring the country.”

“This is why we have Grin and Katherine Hepburn! You can talk to them anytime you like.”

Andrew rolls his eyes and (unreasonably, I think) explains, “I need another human to talk to. And, apparently, Grin does, too, hey Mark?”

Mark shrugs. “We exchange jokes.”

Just then we were called to dinner where - despite the hockey puck hamburger bun - I rather enjoyed a comfort food of home, prepared by our good friends, and served with an accompaniment of fries (or “chips” if you speak the Queen's English.) I watched Waterworld with the sinking feeling that the tally of sailors in favor of moving on rests at exactly 5 against 1, plus at least the addition of an opinionated and excitable dinghy.