Go Big Or Go Home

On Schweitzer Mt. outside Sandpoint, ID - 5/10/17
Reacclimation can be a slow process

April/May 2017

United States – Washington State and Idaho

The second biggest mistake that we feared making was getting back to the States after departing Southeast Asia and not being able to get out again.  We felt the greatest danger that could potentially lead us down this road would be getting obogged down in the unsuccessful search for the perfect boat.  However, acting on the pressures we felt from not wanting to make that second biggest mistake could certainly place us at high risk of actually making the biggest mistake possible (outside the potential for bankrupting ourselves buying that perfect boat)…this was the very real concern that we would end up buying something that wasn’t the right boat.  Oof!  Perfect is a ghost to chase.  Right is not only graspable but also a necessity.

We recognized that both knowledge and information were our greatest ally, especially considering we didn’t have the experience to help us make informed choices.  Although it seemed almost every single person we talked to, every forum we visited, every book and article we read had differing opinions (often conflicting with each other), we continued to try to digest every single tidbit of information we could uncover.

The most prudent (certainly the most typical) approach probably would have been to get out on sailboats relentlessly for the better part of 2017 and learn a lot of the knowledge and skills that would apply directly to making a better purchase decision.  However, it seems we often prefer the road less travelled; and so, as you may have already surmised, we decided that we would take a different approach – an approach we learned about almost 15 years earlier which had first planted the sailing seeds in our imagination…

Tack? How do you do that?
  Around 2003 we went boat diving in the Hood Canal with a company run by Don Coleman.  At the time, we were still new divers counting our dives in double digits.  After a fantastic (and freezing) day diving with wolf eels and giant pacific octopi we sat at the dock and listened to Don tell the amazing story of how he had acquired the sailboat he and his wife had been living on for years.
Don, who at the time knew almost nothing of sailing, had become interested in a sailboat which was located in Seattle.  He contacted the broker, who took him out for a test sail.  As they were conversing, the broker stopped and said to Don, “You might want to tack (which means to turn) pretty soon.”
Don replied, “OK. How do I do that?”
As it turned out they bought that yacht, moved aboard, and spend the next few years sailing the west coast between Alaska and Mexico, eventually sailing to Hawaii before opening up a dive center.
…and the seed was planted.

We must not have had nearly as big of balls as Don had, because we decided we wanted to at least know how to tack (and even gybe) before we committed to a purchase. It was budget considerations which dictated the next step.  We were adamant that some sort of sailing course was going to precede our purchase and there were endless options to choose from.  However, getting back to the USA first meant this would cost us around $6,000US for a bareboat skipper certification or upwards of $15,000US for both of us to get additional offshore training on top of that…simply not in the cards.  After all, this was money we needed for a boat, damn it!

Thailand was the answer.  We arranged a bareboat skipper course (at about $3,000US for both of us instead of almost twice that in the USA).  The two week course was intense and hands on.  We joked during our three hour final exam that we hadn’t had such a full-on exam since our SAT tests in high school!

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Kris, Bart (a Dutchman we named our dinghy after who took the course with us), and one of our instructors Ash during a training day on the water

While we learned an incredible amount about sailing during that two weeks, we understood that we had just scratched the surface.  As instructors at Scuba Junkie, it was not that uncommon for us to hear open water students who had become so enamored with their new diving experience to immediately announce they were going to become dive instructors…great enthusiasm…maybe a bit premature.  Our response was generally something along the lines of, “That’s awesome, but you’ve got to finish your open water course first!”  Upon finishing our sailing course we laughed at the parallel between our previous dive students’ ambitions and our own grandiose plans of buying a yacht… great enthusiasm… maybe a bit premature.

The scope of the yacht we were looking at also reminded us of a teenager who had just gotten their drivers license deciding to buy a semi-truck as they walked out of the Department of Licensing!!!  Oh well…go big or go home!

Arriving back in the USA, mid April 2017, we immediately began our quest.  Seattle was nearby, and Pete McGongle of Swiftsure Yachts had already been invaluable in our search.  He had taken us aboard yachts and walked us on the docks at marinas pointing out differences and distinctions between yachts we were looking at during our last visit back to the USA in September 2016.  He was encyclopedic in his knowledge and experience, and we would have been completely adrift without his expertise and advice.  For a modest fee, we also hired John Neale (Mahina Expeditions) as a consultant who provided additional insight.

Unfortunately we crapped out in Seattle.  It’s not that there weren’t plenty of sailboats for sale – if money is no concern, one can equip themselves with a newer, decked out blue water cruiser capable of going anywhere…except money was a big concern.  If we were looking for an expensive project to rebuild and outfit ourselves, derelict and worn out boats were certainly widely available…except we didn’t have the expertise (or desire) to undertake a massive project boat.  Smalls 20-35 foot boats great for day sailing were available in plentiful supply…except we wanted a live aboard capable vessel.  And there were certainly a plethora of decadent looking production-line yachts that suit the short term and coastal sailor perfectly…except we wanted a blue water cruiser that would eventually be able to take us anywhere.

And so we looked…and studied…and looked…and studied…and looked…

My parents’ property just outside of Sandpoint, ID provided an unbelievable setting in which to do research, as well as unlimited nearby access to snow we had not missed for nearly a decade.

Just outside Sandpoint, ID - May 2017
Near Sandpoint, ID

Likewise, it’s always heartwarming and a bit poignant when we find our way back to the Palouse.   However, it quickly became apparent that being six hours inland from the coast was not going to lend itself very well to finding the yacht we were after.

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Nevertheless, spending time with friends and family while back in an area we had spent so much of our lives is always a blessing.  Catching up, reminiscing, making new memories.  While the adventures abroad almost always seem to be the focus, sometimes it’s returning to your roots and being with the people that you already know that can be the most special of all.

All the while, we constantly researched internet listings, patiently sifting through the endless photos, spec sheets, and equipment lists of thousands of yachts while relentlessly pummeling our advisors with questions.  We kept looking, and learning. After a month we realized we were going to have to start traveling…

So with more time than money to spare, we boarded the Amtrak train and headed for the East coast on a fifty-six hour train ride – a ‘low-tech long-haul” we never would have considered before 2008 – but which still fell well short of our record ninety-six hour South America bus ride in 2011!  One thing we have undoubtedly learned over the past nine years is that multiple transportation options generally exist and, the more expensive things look, the higher the likelihood that a cheaper alternative has evolved to cater to those on a budget, which is definitely us.  We had very successfully traveled through Europe for three weeks on via a EURail Pass in 1999 – a trip we firmly believe helped to permanently embed into our genetics the passion for travel we now have.  Railroad travel…no screening hassles, surprisingly comfortable and spacious seats, and a laid back feeling of seeing while your traveling instead of just getting somewhere.  If you haven’t tried it, you need to!

Now here we were, coming full circle back to Rail Pass travel eighteen years later.  The major difference is that Europe has an incredibly well developed passenger railroad infrastructure that is well maintained and considered essential to the transportation network.  By comparison, the USA train system is largely looked at as outdated and ineffective (a perspective held mostly by people with enough money for endless plane travel).

Consequently, the USA passenger train system may not survive much longer.  We saw a sign posted on the Amtrak we rode indicating that the Trump Administration was currently attempting to gut government funding for the Amtrak railroad system.  If successful, Amtrak would essentially cease to exist outside of the west and east coast and the entire middle eighty percent of the USA would lose the option of train travel…one more element of Classic Americana relegated to the history books.  It would be most unfortunate if this came to pass.  The fact that so many people (especially children) wave at a train as it passes is a indication to me just how much mystique and sense of awe trains still carry in our psyche. Hell, when our train traveling through a small town on July 4th stopped on Main Street, effectively cutting their 4th of July parade in half, you’d have thought people would be irritated when, in fact, many simply sat there smiling and waving!  But now I’m getting ahead of myself.  In reality, if the dismantling of Amtrak becomes the worst aspect of Trump’s legacy in office then I suppose the American people will actually have dodged not just a bullet, but an entire magazine of armor piercing rounds as well as a hand grenade and a falling plane.  But now I start to digress with dangerous political opinions.

The list of sailboats we wanted to see wasn’t long, but it was necessary to see them in person and, frankly, was an approach that provided better odds for success than continued sitting in a living room on a mountainside lake in Northern Idaho (my parents’ property at which we had been staying).  Getting aboard a boat was ultimately the only way we would be able to make a decision.  Even if rejected, every boat we stepped aboard further narrowed the parameters and models we would consider, so we deemed it worthwhile to go despite the slim pickings we had before us.

There was at least one Scepter yacht in Connecticut and another Scepter in North Carolina that we were serious about.  Additionally, nine months before we had come across a listing for an aluminum 46′ Garcia yacht located in Maryland listed by Swiftsure (while we were still in Borneo).  Not perfect, but everything we needed.  However, it had continually resided in the dream category because it was simply outside of the grasp of our designated budget.  Still, it just sat there on the listing, taunting us.  While it was on the “to visit” list, we were hesitant to actually go see her.   The running theory was one of two things would result.  Option One: we would not be so impressed once we got aboard her, finally allowing us to definitively cross her off the list and move on.  Option Two was what scared the shit out of us: we would get aboard the Garcia and fall head over heels in love…

The Scepter yacht in Connecticut was disappointing – worn and tired.  The North Carolina Scepter was a crap shoot – an estate sale lacking real information about what condition she was in or what was aboard.  And we had no one knowledgable to help walk us through.  We made the decision that it would be stupid to have come all this distance and not see the Garcia.  If nothing else, it would prevent us from spending the rest of our lives wondering.  So, nearly convinced we were wasting our time and money, we opted for the therapeutic consolation of paying Exit (as she was appropriately named) a visit.

Exit was on the hard (being stored out of the water on stands) at the Herrington Harbor Marina in Deale, Maryland.  For us, on the hard meant there was no way she would show as well.  A boat sitting out of the water just looks sad and out of place…it’s simply an awkward and unnatural state for a boat and oftentimes it seems like the boat recognizes that.  On the plus side, it gave us the opportunity to get a proper look at the underside – something that would have helped a person who knew what they were looking at and looking for.  If it would have had tires, we probably would have kicked them.  Really, without Pete or someone “in the know” at our side, we were making a largely aesthetic decision as to whether the boat “felt” right to us… would it be something we would want to live aboard 24/7?

After an hour or so, we profusely thanked the broker who had taken us aboard Exit and left.  Go big or go home…Shit!  We both agreed we were facing Option Two…

Version 2
When faced with big decisions… drink up!

 

Nothing Lasts Forever

 

March 4, 2017

Traversing an emotional gauntlet which seemed to continuously pendulum between the giddy excitement of what lay ahead, the intimidation and fear of the future unknown, the pure joy of simply being with friends, and the brutal heartbreak of what we were about to leave behind, we navigated our last twelve days in Borneo.

Tino’s wedding, destined to be epic because it was Tino’s wedding, provided the perfect opportunity to see friends, past colleagues, and acquaintances one last time in a purely enjoyable setting – no logistics and crises to wade through (not that WE had to wade through anyway)…only old school Scuba Junkie good times.  It even provided one more opportunity to jam with the old Scuba Junkie Band (a group of incredibly talented musicians who graciously allowed me to play rock star with them on numerous occasions)!  People we never would have been able to chase down now showed up on Mabul for the wedding, giving us a final chance to say hello again and goodbye to a long list of individuals who had touched our lives.

SteveAndRohan
Steve, Rohan, and J.D… The Dudes Abide

We also had the incredible experience one day of diving Turtle Tomb at Sipadan.  As one of the premier dive locations in the world, Sipadan (just thirty minutes by boat from Mabul) offers some of the best dives people could ever experience in their lives.  Turtle Tomb is a number of connected underwater chambers under the island that occasionally would claim the lives of marine creatures (dozens of turtles, dolphins and even a swordfish) that ventured inside and could not find their way back out again.  The bottom of the chambers are littered with intact skeletons – macabre but fascinating.

We had dived Sipadan hundreds of times before but this was quite a different experience.  Dive centers don’t take tourists into the caves because of the obvious dangers of an overhead environment which had already claimed the lives of even very experienced divers in the past.  The only reason we were comfortable doing this dive was because we were guided by our dear friend Eljir (the manager of the dive resort next door to Scuba Junkie’s Mabul Beach Resort) who had been diving Sipadan for over twenty years and had navigated Turtle Tomb hundreds of times.  No… it wasn’t by the books.  No… certified cave divers would (and probably should) condemn us for trying to be another casualty statistic.  No… there are many overhead environments we would not think of penetrating.  Yes… we had a fucking amazing dive!!!!!!!!

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Our final day diving Sipadan (The Pinnacle of Life) with Mike Malay, Bensar, Dionne, Dave and Sven… absolutely amazing!

The day of our departure from Mabul on March 1st was the crushing heartbreak that we knew from our previous departure in 2010 would be emotionally brutal and inevitable.  However, we also learned from that previous experience that, while nothing lasts forever, things have an uncanny way of coming back around full circle again.  So with heavy hearts and tear filled eyes we said not “goodbye” but, rather, “until next time”.  And with nearly 100 people on the jetty, we climbed aboard the transfer boat and waved farewell to our Scuba Junkie home and family.

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Not goodbye… only farewell until next time.

An additional few days in Kota Kinabalu and then a trip to Bali and Komodo, Indonesia for a week gave us the chance for a few more special visits to Scuba Junkie family who had become especially close to us over the years.

Looking back, Scuba Junkie ultimately provided us with our first open door into the dive industry.  We learned an unbelievable amount, not only about diving, instructing and guiding, but also about being self-sufficient, about problem solving, about logistical organization, about an appreciation for what you have, as well as sorting out what you really need and getting by with what you don’t have… all from the context of a very remote location.  The environmental work we had the privilege of being a part of was legendary in its scope, ambition, vision and impact.  We will always consider our time with Scuba Junkie as one of the turnaround live-altering periods and most memorable and enjoyable experiences we have ever been a part of.

To Ric and Tino, the owners of Scuba Junkie who ultimately chose to overlook our age difference and provide the opportunity for us to prove ourselves… we can never thank you enough.  Your decision set us on a trajectory that changed our lives forever.

To the Junkies we had the pleasure of meeting, working and partying with (not limited to but particularly worth mentioning): Rohan and Carys, Ewan and Lydia, Adz and Rusdie, Rory and Kay, Matt and Dani, Mel, Amanda, Luke, Simon, Paul, Mike, Ali, Dave & Cat, Ash & Dave… to the local resort staff, to the local dive masters and instructors, to the boat captains, to the guests we connected with, and everyone that touched our lives – we’ll never forget you.

To the Scuba Junkie Band:  I (Steve) can never express the magic I felt every performance I was privileged enough to sit in on.  You guys rock with the best of them!

By mentioning names, I know I am omitting others.  This is a failure of my immediate memory rather than a reflection on all of the incredible people who had such a profound influence on our lives.

scuba-junkie logo

“Once a Scuba Junkie, always a Scuba Junkie”

Cheers for that!!!!!!!

Coming Full Circle To Move Forward

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SJ Divemaster Khai breathing fire after a fire poi show

February 21, 2017

T-minus 11 days.  One year ago, when we officially announced our intentions not to renew our contract at Scuba Junkie, our mental and physical exhaustion had reached a point that was taking a brutal toll on us.  We honestly had reached a point where we were unable to approach each day in a positive way without thinking of simply soldiering forward to the end of our contract, moving on and finding the perfect sailboat which we knew had to be out there but had no idea which boat it could be or how we would find it.  With six months to go, we didn’t think we would make it without killing someone, or each other.  Our frustrations with work, things that would never change, no matter how hard we had tried, had peaked to a point of no return and the tunnel continued to grow darker and darker, closing in further with every passing day.  Even our days off seemed to offer no rejuvenation, only momentary sanctuary.  The resort’s growth had simply become too much for two people to oversee.  During our first five years, we had seemed to turn back time, feeling younger and younger every year; but as managers, that time had been stolen back exponentially.  We simply felt old and tired again.

And then slowly, as the transition began with what we had jokingly come to refer to as “The New Same-Same World Order” (a restructuring involving six people taking on all the duties and responsibilities we had previously juggled, that largely remained to be hashed out in its gritty details), we found ourselves slowly able to step back more and more.  The daily onslaught of issues, problems and headaches were now gradually becoming other peoples challenges to sort out.  For the first time in years, we found ourselves able to breathe again… We found ourselves actually diving again!  Our conversations began to center around sailing and the future, rather than around trying to resolve the latest crisis.  The fog seemed to slowly be clearing.

And now, suddenly, we find ourselves facing our last day of work at Scuba Junkie.  Our final week here will be burning our last bit of holiday time due to us, visiting with friends and former colleagues coming back to celebrate Tino’s (one of the owners) wedding – an event certain to be epic in both scale and consumption…an event we feel ecstatic to be participants in rather than responsible for.  Possibly one of the smartest things we ever arranged.

To get to this moment we have had to come full circle, much like riding a roller coaster loop.  Moving backwards while slowing to a point of feeling like the wheels are about to catastrophically come off the track with everything coming crashing down in a wreck, only to pick up speed as we complete the loop and jettison towards the next thrill.  Time seems to be accelerating more and more.  The plan is already in place.  The endgame is happening quickly…it always does.

Eight Years As Junkies

Malaysia, 2017

Pulau Mabul, Borneo

 

February 18, 2017

T-Minus 2 weeks…again.  The endgame will happen quickly.  It always does.  Looking back, the past 8 years have been an unbelievable journey that no one could have foreseen.  When we were counting down the last 2 weeks before our October 2008 departure from the USA, we had no idea what to expect – but we had committed to a lifestyle change that we knew was going to lead us on an epic adventure.  Selling everything and simply walking away from it all required a leap of faith that was both daunting and terrifying while simultaneously being exhilarating, electrifying and inspiring.  But five years, starting in 2003, of ambitious dreaming, endless research, steadfast preparation, and tenacious pursuit of the freedoms and opportunities that lay just ahead brought us to that new horizon.  Over the course of the months that followed, we came to regret nothing about that initial decision and reveled in awe at every experience and adventure that decision had led us to.  

 

Choosing to return to Borneo in June of 2009 after months of traveling, our vagabond lifestyle was temporarily postponed in favor of planting temporary roots at Scuba Junkie, the same young dive center we had visited and fallen in love with six months earlier.  Our passion for diving was already established and had been a focal point of much of our holiday travels for almost a decade.  But, as dive instructors, we were complete novices.  This would be our first taste both of working abroad as well as working in the dive industry.  And, with the exception of a six month hiatus between September 2010 and February 2011 when we reclaimed our scuba vagabond status long enough to travel through South America and even set foot on the icy shores of Antarctica, for nearly eight years Scuba Junkie became our home, our extended family and our employer.

 

We savored everything about our new environment – long days diving every day as instructors and guides, staying up until the wee hours of the morning partying with people half our age.  It was the embodiment of the dream so many people envision… guests who had worked long, hard hours at often mundane or even excruciating jobs just to save enough money for a two week dive holiday halfway around the globe were now sitting before us during a surface interval on a dive boat or at the bar at night gushing about how incredible it would be to be paid to dive every day at such a world class diving location.  We were doing exactly what they dreamed about!  It was not about living an extravagant lifestyle (we lived for six months above the dive shop in an 8×10 foot plywood box without windows and only a plywood door and a double mattress on the floor).  But it was all we needed, and we loved it!

 

We gained incredible experience as well as incalculable insight about ourselves and each other – not only learned knowledge and skills but also perspectives.  Our spartan existence, by most peoples standards, taught us how to get along with less and exactly how little we actually needed to be happy.  Over the following years we transformed from the green new “kids” on the block to the head instructors and assistant managers,  taking on more roles and responsibilities.  Eventually this led to our ascension as full time managers at Scuba Junkie’s Mabul Beach Resort, a resort that was still under construction when we first visited in December 2008.  At that time, who would have thought that in five years we would be running one of the most successful dive resorts in Southeast Asia?

 

However, nothing is perfect.  Running every aspect of a dive resort with 50-100 guests a day and 100 employees comes at a price, and potentially the greatest cost exacted was the fact that we couldn’t dive and run things at the same time.  Consequently, we found ourselves no longer doing the very thing which brought us here.  The irony was not lost on us that we now were speaking with guests who were diving more than us!  We quickly became bogged down in the limits and frustrations of work which had helped prompt us to leave the USA before, and within one year we realized we had become trapped once again.

 

With two years left on our contract, our focus began to shift towards the next step.  Sailing had been on our radar when we initiated our five year exit plan in 2003 but, somehow, it had never materialized.  And it had always stayed in the back of our minds.  Slowly, a new mad-hatter vision emerged from the dreamy fantasy … finish up our contract, get outa Dodge, buy a sail boat, and then learn how to not sink it (ya, ya, ya … the order of the last two items would be the “mad-hatter” part of the vision). So, utilizing the same ambitious dreaming, endless research, steadfast preparation, and tenacious pursuit of the freedoms and opportunities that lay just ahead which had worked out so well for us before, we once again found ourselves on a course that was deemed “over-ambitious”, “pure fantasy”, “downright stupid”, “dangerous” or “absolutely brilliant” – depending on who we were speaking with (often the same people had the same perspective last time around).

Potentially one of the most profound things we have learned is that, oftentimes, the biggest distinction between a fantasy and a reality is whether or not you try it… and the only difference between a dream and an experience is simply whether or not you actually do it.

 

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