Day 7: 20 March 2010
Evidently I carry the synergy of the boat with me even into the city. Today I set off to do laundry and asked the universe for a nice air-conditioned space to relax nearby. On my way to the laundromat I notice a historical-looking sign on the side of a brick building saying "Seafarer's House." Intrigued, I enter to find large, air-conditioned rooms sporting couches, computers with free high-speed internet, and even showers, for all crew members in the port of San Juan. Almost in disbelief I realize this now includes me! I sign my name into the logbook and spend the afternoon lounging in air-conditioned paradise. Did I mention that it wasn't 100 degrees here?
Day 8: 21 March 2010
The hard, sweaty labor I've dedicated to the ship has begun to reveal itself to the outside world through my sunburnt face, the bruises lined up along my shin bones, and the dirt and grime collected in the cracks of my hands and feet. Quite hungry, I start walking to the main plaza in Old San Juan to see a Bomba performance, a soulful partnership of drumming and dancing created by African slaves in Puerto Rico. As I pass a park I notice that three women are handing out meals to the homeless people gathered there. Immediately one of the women waves me over and thrusts a plate of rice and sausage into my hands, asking the men lined up for seconds to step aside. I give the meat back but gratefully devour the rice, smiling at the street people around me. Am I really just as homeless as they are right now?
Today is also the spring equinox, a time to set intentions for the coming year.
Day 9: 22 March 2010
Yesterday we were blessed by a musical gift: a harp player who had attended the ship's farewell party returned to the boat, lugged her harp onto the deck and proceeded to serenade us for the next two hours. As she skillfully plucked the strings I could feel my heart chords vibrating and shifting, melting away the stress and tension of preparing the ship for its departure. I tried to carry these feelings with me as we busied ourselves with final cleaning, ship-shaping, equipment-gathering, and coffee-consuming. We all go to sleep exhausted but excited about the new voyage we hope tomorrow will bring.
Day 10: 23 March 2010
Everything lines up today as we finish our final preparations. The wind is even blowing in the right direction as we finally decide to pull up the four ropes tethering us to the sidewalk of Old San Juan. I am shocked by how easily we start floating away from all that is familiar. We wave to our friends on the dock who have helped us through so much here as we pass between two huge cruise ships, out through the channel, and past El Morro, the imposing Spanish fortress at the tip of the peninsula. We hoist our sails up with a call-and-response to Eddie's orders, pulling the massive rope with all our strength. I am delighted as dolphins swim up to the side of the boat and escort us out into open water-- a good omen as our adventure begins!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Next Big Trip
Heraclitus departs Puerto Rico March 23, 2010 for Dominican Republic.
Setting off across North Atlantic May 15, 2010, arriving Tangiers July 2010-
then Spain and Italy.
Avalon's Diary
Day 1: 15 March 2010
My first day aboard the legendary RV Heraclitus! Upon waking I stand on deck surveying the monstrous cruise ships towering over our humble vessel here in the port of San Juan, Puerto Rico. In my mind, the open ocean beckons. After breakfast I already feel like a sailor as I climb the metal framework of the gallery to scrub the tall wooden shelves. Energy is high as we clean, organize, and prepare for our rapidly-approaching departure to the Dominican Republic. As I hear the generator roar into life, I can't wait for the adventure.
Day 2: 16 March 2010
I am told that we have "lab" this morning. Images from my past "lab" experiences come flooding back: gingerly stirring flasks of boiling chemicals balanced on Bunsen burners as the professors impatiently remind us to never pour an acid into a base (or was it a base into an acid?). I am relieved when "lab" turns out to mean arranging ourselves on comfortable cushions for a 45-minute group meditation. This experience opens me up to the synergy that continues throughout the day-- cleaning and doing chores naturally flows in a way that allows me to use my energy to the fullest extent possible. The crew attends a final open-mic poetry and music session at the Poet's Passage as a soulful closing of the day.
Day 3: 17 March 2010
We work to define our roles on the ship. I am a bit surprised when Christine already senses my strengths and skills without having to discuss it. My job is to keep the galley and living area in order, clean and healthy. Meanwhile Captain Clauss busies himself with ordering the ship's necessary missing parts and fuel for the voyage, and helps repair the sails. Antonio shows me how to run the generator, a grumbling beast of a machine that shakes and roars into life. I also learn how to perform a DO (Deck Officer) check, recording the air and water temperatures, wind speed and direction, pressure, and state of the lines tethering us to the dock. I relish the constant rush of learning required to become a crew member but must experiment with finding time for myself amidst the intensity.
Day 4: 18 March 2010
Today is a day of coming and going-- Eddie and Patty return to the ship after a break, while Juju and Dario enjoy their last day onboard for awhile. Juju and I talk about how the ship has a soul of its own, but that the atmosphere of the ship is in constant flux as crew members arrive and leave again, each contributing a unique pattern of energy and skills. The Heraclitus creaks and groans all night, whispering stories of adventures had. Through the years I sense that magic has sunk through the wooden floorboards and seeped into cracks in the walls. It is at once a living memory of its past and a vessel to propel us into the future, but most of all it is a timeless presence that teaches us its reality if we act with it and listen.
My first day aboard the legendary RV Heraclitus! Upon waking I stand on deck surveying the monstrous cruise ships towering over our humble vessel here in the port of San Juan, Puerto Rico. In my mind, the open ocean beckons. After breakfast I already feel like a sailor as I climb the metal framework of the gallery to scrub the tall wooden shelves. Energy is high as we clean, organize, and prepare for our rapidly-approaching departure to the Dominican Republic. As I hear the generator roar into life, I can't wait for the adventure.
Day 2: 16 March 2010
I am told that we have "lab" this morning. Images from my past "lab" experiences come flooding back: gingerly stirring flasks of boiling chemicals balanced on Bunsen burners as the professors impatiently remind us to never pour an acid into a base (or was it a base into an acid?). I am relieved when "lab" turns out to mean arranging ourselves on comfortable cushions for a 45-minute group meditation. This experience opens me up to the synergy that continues throughout the day-- cleaning and doing chores naturally flows in a way that allows me to use my energy to the fullest extent possible. The crew attends a final open-mic poetry and music session at the Poet's Passage as a soulful closing of the day.
Day 3: 17 March 2010
We work to define our roles on the ship. I am a bit surprised when Christine already senses my strengths and skills without having to discuss it. My job is to keep the galley and living area in order, clean and healthy. Meanwhile Captain Clauss busies himself with ordering the ship's necessary missing parts and fuel for the voyage, and helps repair the sails. Antonio shows me how to run the generator, a grumbling beast of a machine that shakes and roars into life. I also learn how to perform a DO (Deck Officer) check, recording the air and water temperatures, wind speed and direction, pressure, and state of the lines tethering us to the dock. I relish the constant rush of learning required to become a crew member but must experiment with finding time for myself amidst the intensity.
Day 4: 18 March 2010
Today is a day of coming and going-- Eddie and Patty return to the ship after a break, while Juju and Dario enjoy their last day onboard for awhile. Juju and I talk about how the ship has a soul of its own, but that the atmosphere of the ship is in constant flux as crew members arrive and leave again, each contributing a unique pattern of energy and skills. The Heraclitus creaks and groans all night, whispering stories of adventures had. Through the years I sense that magic has sunk through the wooden floorboards and seeped into cracks in the walls. It is at once a living memory of its past and a vessel to propel us into the future, but most of all it is a timeless presence that teaches us its reality if we act with it and listen.
Day 5: 19 March 2010
The heat has crept into our heads a bit as we struggle to chug liters and liters of water, sweating it all out immediately. The concrete sidewalks and streets of Old San Juan that surround our boat reflect the powerful tropical sunrays back at us. The Heraclitus offers no shelter from the beating intensity since it is made of cement. Essentially we are living inside of a sidewalk. At night I decide to sleep on deck, letting the fresh ocean breeze carry away the heat and mosquitos, a refreshing change from my comforting but sticky bunk. Another fiery challenge presents itself when I burn my hands cutting habanero peppers. My hands feel like they are on fire for two hours as Christine helps me cover them in various substances to no avail-- I try burn cream, homeopathic ointment, flour, and tomato paste (suggested by bewildered ice cream-eating passerbys watching the flour-pouring incident on deck). Finally I dunk my hands in milk and the burning immediately subsides. What did I learn? Always wear gloves when cutting hot peppers, and thank a cow.
Day 6: 20 March 2010
We clean up from a beautiful thank-you and farewell party hosted on the ship last night. We laid out beautiful carpets and cushions on deck along with our collection of musical instruments from around the world. As more and more people leaped over the precipice from the sidewalk to the deck, the magic increased. We had incredible conversations, we ate delicious food, we drank, we danced, we made music and magic. Towards the end of the night a circle of a dozen people formed each contributing their own guitar, drum, rhythm, or singing part to a continuous masterpiece. I bathed in the music, acknowledging the creative power of a piece played only in the present-- without past rehearsal and without a recording for future enjoyment. These moments are life, pure and mind-blowing.
The heat has crept into our heads a bit as we struggle to chug liters and liters of water, sweating it all out immediately. The concrete sidewalks and streets of Old San Juan that surround our boat reflect the powerful tropical sunrays back at us. The Heraclitus offers no shelter from the beating intensity since it is made of cement. Essentially we are living inside of a sidewalk. At night I decide to sleep on deck, letting the fresh ocean breeze carry away the heat and mosquitos, a refreshing change from my comforting but sticky bunk. Another fiery challenge presents itself when I burn my hands cutting habanero peppers. My hands feel like they are on fire for two hours as Christine helps me cover them in various substances to no avail-- I try burn cream, homeopathic ointment, flour, and tomato paste (suggested by bewildered ice cream-eating passerbys watching the flour-pouring incident on deck). Finally I dunk my hands in milk and the burning immediately subsides. What did I learn? Always wear gloves when cutting hot peppers, and thank a cow.
Day 6: 20 March 2010
We clean up from a beautiful thank-you and farewell party hosted on the ship last night. We laid out beautiful carpets and cushions on deck along with our collection of musical instruments from around the world. As more and more people leaped over the precipice from the sidewalk to the deck, the magic increased. We had incredible conversations, we ate delicious food, we drank, we danced, we made music and magic. Towards the end of the night a circle of a dozen people formed each contributing their own guitar, drum, rhythm, or singing part to a continuous masterpiece. I bathed in the music, acknowledging the creative power of a piece played only in the present-- without past rehearsal and without a recording for future enjoyment. These moments are life, pure and mind-blowing.
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