14/10/2015 We're in the water, now what?
Now that we are settled into or new routine in Bere Island, the realisation has sunk in
that we are on the final leg of our journey to sail off to a life less usual. We’ve gotten
many lovely texts and e-mails wishing us well, almost as if we had gone already, but
we’re still here. Although it feels more and more like home, we are still about 9
months from moving onto the boat full time.

Having gotten Faoin Spéir launched and sailing again, we have experienced the
expected highs of achieving this much, highs that have boosted our confidence and
spurred us on to keep moving forward. It’s the moving forward bit that has caught us
off guard a little. There is still SOOOOOO much to do, so much to get, so much to
learn. As it is, we can comfortably eat and sleep on board, but there is some way to go
before we can call it home.
High on the list of things to get is a cooker, so far we have managed with a couple of
camping style cookers, but those little damn gas cartridges hardy last long enough to
boil a kettle and hob cooking is getting real old, real fast. We dream of the day when we
have an oven for fresh crusty bread rolls at breakfast, but one thing at a time. Of course
it’s not just the boat that is not quite ready, we have a lot of personal preparation do to
as a crew. I’m used to sailing alone, where I have to pre-plan everything, particularly
casting off and berthing (when most little problems occur).
This really sharpens your appreciation of how the boat behaves in tight spaces. Having
a crew changes that, it means having to let go of total control and trusting each person
with their task. If we want to avoid the pantomime, commonly seen in marinas around
the globe, of the red faced skipper screaming “fend off! fend off!” or “Not THAT rope!,
Take in Take in!” and much worse, then we’ll have to practice these manoeuvres in the
quiet calm of Lawrence Cove.
Morning on Faoin Spéir.
Sailing in the Piper Sound, Faoin Spéir helming herself.
Even though there is a lot to get through in before the off, it’s quickly forgotten when we
head out sailing. I’ve never been the sort of sailor to become attached to a boat, never
have I felt that a boat had any personality to speak of. Sure, there are particular traits
and characteristics demonstrated by different boat designs, but I was never one to
personify them. Until now, Faoin Spéir, is a bit like a puppy, a little hard to understand
what she’s saying, but is clear about what she wants. I know I’m projecting, but cut me
some slack here. This boat was built to circle the world, and has been held captive for
too long, so every time we take her out, it’s hard not to recognise the fact that we could
‘just keep going’. With everything we need on the boat (perhaps not everything we
want), we could as easily carry on to Brazil as potter up Bantry Bay for an overnight.
What would you do??