April to July 2024

We never know what the future holds, but we did not imagine when we left Australia in 2015 that our cruising life would be punctuated by periods of separation – some forced as when I had a broken femur in 2015, or when the Covid pandemic left us stranded in different parts of the world in 2020. This year in 2024 we were separated again but this time by choice. I returned to Australia for a revision of an earlier hip replacement which had worn out, and Phil remained with the boat, heading north away from the Caribbean and out of the hurricane belt to keep himself and the boat out of harm’s way.

I began the long trek back to Melbourne from Sint Maarten at the end of March, and three weeks later I was in the operating theatre where my orthopaedic surgeon was confronted with a pelvis that was considerably more damaged than he anticipated. So I not only ended up with a new prosthetic hip but also a large bone graft to repair that damage. I had anticipated a recovery that was somewhat longer and tougher than the initial replacement, but I seriously underestimated just how tough it would be.

Meanwhile Phil was on his own roller coaster ride as he sailed solo to the British Virgin Islands, Bermuda, Nova Scotia and then Newfoundland, covering around 2500nm in 4 months or so. The British Virgin Islands turned out to be quite an experience. I had seen something on social media about a short regatta of three “races” to be held over three days in the BVIs and I suggested to Phil that he participate, thinking it could be a fun and social time. The regatta began with a raft up and beach party the day before the first race. When Phil called me that night, he was incredulous at what I had got him into. Not that he could speak that much as his voice was hoarse from partying. Virtually all the participants were under 40 and were clearly out for a good time. While he initially felt very out of place, it didn’t take long for him to “shed his skin” and embrace the action.

Party on board Chasing Bubbles

It turned out that the regatta was organised by the brother of Alex Rust who, at 25 years of age, traded his comfortable life as a stock trader for that of a cruiser. He had an insatiable appetite for risky adventures and for inviting people to share his life aboard his modest boat called Chasing Bubbles. Alex completed a circumnavigation after which he travelled to India with the intention of helping children there achieve their goals and dreams. Sadly, he died from complications of typhoid fever before he really had a chance to make an impact. His family then set up the Chasing Bubbles Foundation as a vehicle to achieve Alex’s vision. There is no doubt that the organisers were channelling Alex’s essence into the rally experience. All comers were embraced, and Phil became a darling of the group as the only solo sailor and the over the line winner of two of the three races.

He had his hands full in the second race during which there were 3 rain squalls, and some mayhem down below as lockers came open and spewed their contents on the floor. Despite trying not to win this race, he was first over the line. The organisers introduced a twist in the third race, declaring that each boat had to drag a crew member in the water for 5 minutes. As Phil had no crew, his “penalty” was to motor backwards for 7 minutes. He had a lot of fun during the regatta and it was a somewhat more subdued few days in the BVIs before he left for Bermuda.

The passage from the BVIs to Bermuda was the first of the two serious solo legs that Phil would have to undertake. It is about 830 nm almost due north to Bermuda from the BVI’s. As is often the case, Phil started this passage with high hopes only to be frustrated by too many hours of insufficient wind, mostly at night. At one point, he pulled all the sails down and went to bed, hoping that the next day would bring better conditions. In the end, the passage took 8.5 days giving an average of 4 kts per hour – a slow passage for Paseafique.

Phil enjoyed his fortnight in Bermuda finding the people friendly and quite a few points of interest including the many forts, an aquatic museum, and the Royal Dockyards. He was fascinated to learn that the triangular sailing rig of modern yachts was designed in Bermuda in the 1700’s. This rig became known as the Bermuda rig, and was a significant improvement on the square sails of the square riggers.

His departure from Bermuda was not without some drama. Shortly after exiting the harbour, Phil was alerted by the authorities that his passport had been mistakenly not returned to him with the other documents at the end of the check out process. Rather than waste precious hours of a good weather window, Phil negotiated with them to forward his passport on to St Peter’s, where he planned to check into Nova Scotia, thinking it would arrive by the time he needed it. It was then up to me to provide the Bermuda authorities with the relevant mailing address for the marina in St Peter’s, and then to alert the marina to the impending arrival of the passport. One would think this to be a simple process, but it took 5 days, and several midnight phone calls, for the passport to get into the mail. It was sent via international express post to Canada, but then entered the Canadian regular domestic mail service and so had not arrived by the time Phil needed to present it for his check in. He had been worrying about this eventuality during the whole passage to Canada. It was now out of our hands, so we could only hope that the Canadian authorities would be understanding and would accept the clearance papers from Bermuda, the visa exemption, and a photocopy of Phil’s passport as sufficient. As a fall-back position, Phil did have his old passport on board.

The passage from Bermuda to St Peters in Nova Scotia was 810 nm, and held a bit more challenge as it required crossing the Gulf stream. Readers may be aware that this is a significant warm current that flows north from the southern tip of Florida to around New Jersey where it turns east and crosses the Atlantic. The combination of a 4-5 knot current flowing against a moderate or strong wind can create formidable seas, so this passage required some careful planning with respect to the location of crossing the current and also the predicted wind.

As it turned out, crossing the stream was relatively straight forward. The most notable aspect was the drop in water temperature from 24.7 degrees to 11 degrees within 24 hours after crossing the Gulf stream. Taking around 4.5 days for an average of 7.5 kts per hour, the passage was relatively fast, but it was not a comfortable one with confused seas for much of the trip combined with cold and fog on approach to the Canadian coastline.

This was where Phil had to clear into Canada and explain why he didn’t have his current passport. As it turned out, the old passport saved the day when the clearance officer discovered it was still valid, and stamped him in. We hadn’t thought to check it’s expiry date as we had obtained the new one when in Australia, before the expiry date, to avoid the hassle of obtaining a new passport outside of Australia.

While Phil was slogging away as a solo sailor, I was slogging my way through the first 8 weeks after the hip operation, using two crutches to walk, doing those exercises daily and seeing very little benefit. We had thought that I would be heading back to the boat by this point and able to meet Phil in St Peter’s on the Bras d’Or Lake in the north of Nova Scotia. We had thought that a few weeks on the lake would be a good way for me to ease back into sailing in relatively protected waters.  Not a chance! But finally there was a sudden improvement and I was able to ditch one crutch. My surgeon was satisfied with the bone graft but was not surprised about the slow recovery given the “extensive and complex surgery”. He anticipated that it would be another 4-6 weeks before my muscles would be strong enough to walk without a crutch and without a limp, at which point he thought it would be reasonable to go back to the boat. I expected that it would be steady improvement from here on, and so I booked a plane ticket for 4 ½ weeks’ time.

Given the somewhat extended recovery time, we reviewed our cruising itinerary to find the most feasible option to accommodate the delay, and leave exploration of the lake until I returned.  Phil had been hearing that Newfoundland was a stunning cruising ground and the prospect of an adventure there was tempting, even though it was a bit early in the season.

Compared to his previous two solo passages, the 186nm to Newfoundland was an easy sail taking 36 hours. However, the two weeks that Phil spent hopping along the southern coast were anything but easy. It was cold, rainy and foggy for a lot of the time (no heating aboard Paseafique!), but with enough sunny breaks for Phil to enjoy the stunning scenery in the remote fjords and get ashore to explore the tiny villages. Some of the villages were abandoned, as a consequence of the government providing financial incentives to re-locate, and some boasted three generations of the same family still living there among a population of only 40. He found the people to be very friendly giving him access to their wifi, and hosting him for cuppas and dinner.

Meanwhile, I was desperately working hard to meet the functional goals of being able to balance on the operated leg, and to walk with a minimal limp. But my body was not going to be hurried. There followed another plateau of little progress and still quite some pain, until there was another marked improvement following a visit to the physiotherapist. Now I was walking most of the time without a crutch but still a slight to moderate limp. Just in time for my flight in one week’s time!

Several days before my scheduled arrival, Phil crossed back over to Nova Scotia and into the port of Sydney. The difference was quite remarkable. He left with many layers of clothing on underneath his wet weather gear in rain and fog, and arrived in shorts and thongs. While I was farewelling friends and family, packing my bags and judiciously checking their weight, Phil was washing, cleaning and re-stocking Paseafique.

Departure day for me arrived, and the tears welled up as I closed our unit door on a very difficult and challenging 13 weeks. I was so very grateful for my friends and family who rallied around and helped me get through that time. I once again entered the no-man’s-land of planes, airports, and transfers and the miracle of flight took me half way across the world back into Phil’s arms for an emotional reunion.