08° 04.2 S 104° 08.9 W  -  Life on the Ocean Wave.

We’re at GMT -6 hours, that’s us and the metropolis of Easter Island – well ok, plus San Francisco and LA, but the former is nearer.  There’s a lot of ocean between us and civilization.  The seascape is completely awe-inspiring – horizon to horizon, 360 degree vastness, a ceaseless, and relentless environment in motion.  I’ll leave the poetry to the experts.  There’s certainly a lot of places for them fishes to hide in, and they are doing a good job, as we’ve caught nothing.  Not a nibble.  I remember Attenborough describing the Oceans as ‘watery desert’.  We saw no birds today.

As I hung out this morning on the poop deck, I wondered do I really have a case to answer with Surfers Opposed to Sewage.  I mean a drop in the ocean springs to mind.  I’ll spare the details, suffice to say, living on a boat is very different to civilised western living and certainly doesn’t suit everyone.  Personal hygiene takes a back seat – showering is once a day and less than that if we go to hard-routine or are in danger of being swept off by a wave.  It’s a sure sign of a great partnership when you can tolerate the earthy fragrance of your beloved.  I mean there can’t be many spouses who would be good-natured enough to make a jolly suggestion like ‘maybe a shower later today darling – I think it’s been 3 days without now’.  Fair enough, with the weather conditions that we’ve had a shower seemed superfluous given that we have spent all day and night like drowned rats.

Sartorial elegance also moves down the priority list.  Dandys like me are obliged to say goodbye to the luxurious wardrobes of the urbane.  It’s more like: put on the wet t-shirt to go on watch and the dry one to go to sleep.  Over time, there’s been a steady decline into RaLa’s permanent dress state of salty-eccentricity.  My deck shoes haven’t helped.  The blue dye has leaked and stained my feet, and most bizarrely, has completely blackened my toenails like some transexual-Goth.  Black colouring contrast with the pale and translucent crinkled skin that has been permanently wet.  I could audition my feet for a bit part in Night of the Living Dead. 

We now look like and behave as – real liveaboards.  In an earlier downpour yesterday I was taking down the mizzen sail and Laura shouted – ‘I’ll be right up just getting some gear on’.  Seconds later, I was tieing down slabs of sail to the boom engrossed in a large volume of sailcloth whilst Laura was pulling the front of the sail down at the mast.  We work well as a team, we’ve done this so many times – each knowing and anticipating what the other will do next.  We finished tidying lines and headed back to the cockpit.  It was only then that I noticed Laura was completely naked except for a wide-brimmed hat.  ‘Weren’t you getting gear - on?’ I said as she doffed the peak of her only item with a grin ‘Well, I did put the hat on’.         

And with those delightful images for you to dwell on, I will close.  For….it’s-a ….life on the ocean wave dah de daddee dee da da dah.  (Dear reader I hope that this doesn’t stick around like an ear-worm – good tunes have a habit of doing that on RaLa).