As they all threatened to do, my fellow sailboats along with their Captains and Crew around us cast off their lines and set sail South through the Mozambique channel. They are heading to South Africa as proposed - skipping Madagascar as its borders are still closed, planning to hove to and wait for storm fronts to pass, and then skip across one of the strongest currents in the whole world to reach South Africa over the course of about a fourteen day passage.

Leslie jumps up from her morning coffee, grabs her camera and clicks a series of photos of one set of friends who are just at the start of their own circumnavigation having sailed away from Dubai, to the Seychelles, and now heading to South Africa.

“Bye! Fair winds and following seas!” My crew waves their arms over their heads.

“Ooooohhhhh, should we go? Should we go, too?!" I ask. Andrew seems uncertain about it, maybe if I nag him just a bit more....

“Stop it, Sonrisa!" Leslie says, “The indecision is killing me."

“It's killing me, too!” Pete says, later that day as he pulls along-side Sonrisa in Tango. “Why are you second guessing your decision, literally nothing has changed in the analysis?" He asks Andrew.

We know in all likelihood if we wanted to keep sailing around Cape of Good Hope we would probably* make it all right. I'm strong! I'm built for tough sailing! And, it just isn't that often that luck goes awry and sailors get hammered by the sea. All these friends leaving have done the math, too, and they are confident they can manage. Why not us?

“Fidgety,” Leslie says. “Did you wave goodbye to Sea Biscuit?”

“We did, they left early this morning.” Pete confirms, Leslie nods and reports we rang the fog bell to see them off. “Are you thinking about South Africa again?”

Andrew fidgets. I sail forward on a favorable current and tug on my anchor chain.

Pete rolls his eyes, “We’ve already analyzed this! You can’t re-analyze it every time someone sails away!”

We did analyze it and we decided to stay put for now for a few reasons:

(1) The passage from here direct to South Africa would be 14 days or so. This pushes the passage far beyond accuracy in weather prediction models, and this area of the ocean is one of the most volatile and dangerous if bad weather pushes through. Better to wait until we can use Madagascar to stage the crossing;

(2) Madagascar is still closed, and Mozambique is dealing with ISIS led fighting . If we tried to use either of these coastlines to stage our passage, we can’t be sure we wouldn’t get chased away by either gun toting Covid-nervous coast guard or face trouble from the ISIS crowd making the Mozambique coastline inhospitable right now; and

(3) Can we trust that South Africa actually is open to receive us?

“I'm just so tired of the Covid-Border-Uncertainty dilemma. I hate sailing into a passage unsure of whether I have a port of call open on the other side." Andrew says.

“But if we wait much longer we are going to miss the safe weather season for sailing South past Madagascar and we will be trapped by potential cyclones!" I reason. Everyone knows this, but they ignore me. I'm starting to get the impression that we really are going to sit here and wait for a year; we’ve already been here so long that I'm growing a whole ecosystem on the bottom of my hull.

“And what are we sailing on to?” Pete asks, “Covid is rampant in the US and in Europe right now. If you were sitting in the U.S. right now and someone offered to let you go live on your sailboat in a tropical island without Covid, you would jump at the chance!”

I briefly consider getting a good hull-roll going in the hopes of smacking him atop the head with my flag pole. “We were thinking of sailing over to La Digue this weekend," Pete proposes. “Maybe we can take Ricarda along as well. She's never really been sailing.” And...he saves himself from my ire.

“YES!" I say. “Can we? Let's do that! I want to go sailing!"

"That sounds fun,” Leslie says.

Andrew nods in agreement, and the plan is set.

A few days later, my crew has shopped for groceries, tidied me for ocean sailing, and all that is left to do is cut away the soft coral, seaweed, and crab habitat that might actually have grown a continuous root all the way down from my hull to the ocean floor. Andrew pulls on his goggles and fins: “Leslie, you have to stay on board and keep watch." I tell her. This is bull shark territory, and I would rather they did not take a tasty chomp out of my Captain.

Leslie circles around my deck, following Andrew as he dives and swims below the waterline to cut away pounds and pounds of growth. He scrapes my propellers, and with each breath returns to the surface panting somewhat from exertion, but somewhat more from the panic gripping him as the visibility in the water gets worse and worse, small fish become attracted by the clouds of floating hull debris, bigger fish become attracted by the excited smaller fish, and it’s just a matter of time until...

He tosses his fins up on deck and scrambles up my swimming ladder as though someone has lit his pants on fire.

“Is there are shark down there?” Leslie ask, a bit surprised as she did not see anything approaching.

“Not yet, but it’s just a matter of time, and that is good enough." Andrew says.

They host Grin and turn him upside down on my fore-deck and I rumble with excitement as Andrew leans over the engine controls. “Kitty...beeeeeeeeeep!" He imitates the sound the engine alarm makes when turning the key to the “on" position. Katherine Hepburn scowls at him, then retreats into the bathroom where she takes up her “motoring position" on the shelf next to the sink. My engine rumbles to life and Andrew heads toward the anchor. Leslie directs me forward, right, left, and in circles to unwind the anchor chain from its twisted weave between granite boulders locking me in place on the ocean floor.

I’m FREE! I sing as we escape the anchorage.

There isn't much wind, but I do not care. I am going to sail, by golly! As we exit the reef protecting the marina entrance, Andrew hails port control and informs them of our intention: “to sail to La Digue." That is right! I swing my Genoa sheets in the waves, anticipating the moment Andrew gives them a tug and loops them around my port side winch. Leslie is already uncovering the main sail, attaching the halyard and readying everything to be deployed. The sun is warm, the breeze soft, the ocean state friendly!

“Ziiiiiyiiiiig, ziiiyiiiig, ziyiiiiggg!" The roller furler spins in a circle as Andrew tugs it free. The sail flaps once, twice, then Andrew tightens it in and the curve of its billow is as beautiful and round as your sweetheart’s blushing cheek. "Gimmie a KISS!" I call out to Calypso as she seems to be in such a nice mood. The main sail stretches skyward as Leslie cranks and Andrew guides the sail to make sure it doesn't get caught on the mast stairs. The water gurgles around my bow, I leave a trail of bubbles behind.

Andrew and Leslie settle into their favorite sailing routines. Leslie installs the GoPro onto my “selfie-stick" and enjoys clamboring all over my deck to try to find my most photogenic angle. (Hello! Every angle is my good angle! The camera loves me.) Andrew shuffles through my cubbies to find his hand reel and splays out 200kg test weight fishing line to trail behind me. These islands are known to be some of the best fishing grounds in the world - with some people catching giant marlin, sailfish, or tuna. Andrew settles into his beanbag, reel in hand waiting for the moment to strike.

I'm feeling particularly speedy today, and soon we sneak right past Steel Sapphire, who is relaxing into her own sail off my starboard side. Katherine Hepburn decides she can come out now that the engine is silent, and she moves her napping position to her sailing shelf just inside the companion way.

Until...

“Fish on!” Andrew proclaims. The anticipation in his voice is high as he takes big wraps of fishing line around his reel. Leslie releases the genoa and furls it to slow our progress and make the reeling process easier. “Oh, I think it's big!" Andrew says with excitement in his voice. I wait as pateintly as I can (my sailing was going so well), and then....

Andrew pulls it aboard.

“It's pretty,” I say. Andrew holds up a skipjack tuna possibly three pounds, if you count the weight of the seawater dripping off its back.

Katherine Hepburn does not mind, though, she is awake now and singing a chorus of meows like a street musician singing for her dinner.

“Oh, he’s tiny!” Leslie says, “Can we throw him back?” Katherinw Hepburn growls to express her displeasure in this idea. Anyway, the hook had gone through the fish’ eyeball and we decided he was too injured to throw back. Andrew filets him and gets two (relatively) thick cuts of meat considering his size.

Andrew offers scraps and the head to Katherine Hepburn, and hands Leslie the filets to rinse and put away in the fridge. “Perfect for a round of sushi!" Leslie says.

As we arrived in La Digue, Steel Sapphire and I both dropped our anchors into twenty feet of water so clear you could see the ripple pattern the sea had drawn into the sand below us. Andrew and Leslie tidied up my sails, then cracked their “New Anchorage Beer” while they watched over me for the requisite number of anchor watch minutes.

Soon, Pete is hailing over our “Super Secret Party Line” VHF Channel. “What should we do this afternoon? Time for exploration?” My crew agrees and they minutes later they’ve tossed Grin overboard to go adventuring ashore.

Yes! That IS a giant tortoise in the road.

It didn’t take them long at all to find the “Bikini Bottom,” a really cool little beach bar serving tropical smoothies with a dash of Seychellois rum in a perfect setting, complete with “Bar Tortoises” named Papaya and Mango.

“Is that an American accent?” the gal behind the bar asks, toting her own rather American accent herself.

“Yes!” Leslie says, squinting closer at her as she waits to listen.

This beach bar is owned by an American-Seychellois family. Their father is American, their Mother Seychelloise, they lived in California for most of their childhood, then moved back here a few years ago. A pretty good life they are making here.

The day ended back aboard Steel Sapphire for "Sushi night” made courtesy of the tunas caught enroute and Riccarda the Optomitrist who is quite the sushi master!

I am happy.

It doesn't take much to make me happy. One little sail, an anchorage over clean white sand, a good bottom scrubbing and once more I feel like I am doing just what I'm meant to do. I think of all my sister sailors out there in the big sea charging Southward into unknown territory of South Africa and I am a bit jealous, a bit nervous that again with this delay we are making my eventual circumnavigation less and less likely, but a sailboat is nothing if she is not patient. So, I can wait. And, in the meantime we will explore La Digue!