Hey All,
I'm house sitting a mini-mansion for a friend and am taking advantage of the opportunity to pull my hair out distilling my little trip into something publishable.
It's a bitch trying to do justice without getting wordy.
Anyway, I've got a running column in a small monthly Costa Rican travel magazine. It's a start.
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El Viaje Sin Fin: 1st Installment
WELCOME ABOARD!
I first visited Tamarindo six years ago and recently spent a month there again. My first time through I was a brainwashed Gringo 22-year-old incapable of truly tapping into the Pura Vida lifestyle. My recent visit found me mentally much improved…
A few months back I sailed into Tamarindo aboard my beat-to-shit 27-foot sailboat. I was headed North after sailing and surfing my way through Columbia, Panama, and southern Costa Rica. I had 62 dollars to my name. I was lonely. I was getting too skinny.
Four weeks later and ten pounds heavier, I said goodbye to a dozen new friends, and left Tamarindo with 350 dollars, a pile of food, and a beautiful woman who didn’t care that my little boat was beat-to-shit.
I’d been told Tamarindo’s development would break my heart, that it was the new Jaco and had lost it’s soul. This was not my experience. There are plenty of characters bopping around and there’s plenty of soul. The good people of Tamarindo welcomed me in, fixed me up, and warmly sent me on my way. If that isn’t paradise, I don’t know what is.
I didn’t even catch flak for running little underground surf charters on my boat. Most other places I stopped, I encountered hostility for trying to scrounge a few bucks under the table. Thanks for being so laid back, Tamarindo. Pura Vida, indeed!
The only real problem in Tamarindo is that the locals surf too well, and that’s hard on the tourists’ self-confidence. Well, that ain’t really a problem, now is it. Anyway…
Let me tell me you the story of my boat trip ‘cuz I’ve been told it’s inspiring. I’ll be writing in this magazine monthly until I run out of things to say. Consider this installment one.
A few years back I sold my car and bought a 27-foot sailboat for $5300. My previous sailing experience consisted of a few summers on Little Boy Lake, Northern Minnesota. Now I’ve sailed the Pacific Coast between Washington State and Columbia.
Over the course of a sixteen-month sailing odyssey I encountered adventure, boredom, terror, crippling seasickness, wealth, poverty, freedom, romance, loneliness, a whole lot of paradise, some amazing waves, and a ridiculous cast of characters, including myself.
I started the trip with $2500 in my pocket. This money lasted four months. Over the course of the next year I never had more than $400 at any given time. The meager money that kept the trip afloat came from teaching kiteboarding, surf charters, and donations to my blog.
I got to surf or go kiteboarding almost every day. I got to discover for myself all the great waves of Mexico and Central America. I met enough characters to write a dozen books. I made enough memories to keep me laughing for life. I developed respect and love for the ocean. It was a truly life-changing experience.
What makes my sixteen-month trip unique is it happened for under 10,000 dollars. With a little planning, courage, and flexibility, you could throw together a similar experience. With a little more skrilla to invest, you could have more fun than I did… maybe.
So if you’re still interested, I give you the watered down, fit-for-publication version of El Viaje Sin Fin, The Trip Without End.
CHAPTER ONE: PREPARING FOR THE NORTH PACIFIC
March 3rd, 2008: After a few weeks of searching online, I buy the boat sight unseen off of CraigsList. After one phone call I know the owner loves his boat and is only letting it go because he has to: the economic crisis hit a lot of US boat owners hard. I have doubts but the pictures look good, and the boat was recently surveyed. He listed for $9,000. I pay $5,300.
April 12, 2008: My younger brother drops me off on the dock in Portland, Oregon. He drove me there from Jackson Hole, Wyoming where I’d been bartending and ski bumming. I don’t have a car anymore. All my possessions fit easily in his old Subaru but they clutter the tiny cabin of the boat. The weather alternates between dreary and drizzly for the next two weeks. I’m overwhelmed by the change and having serious doubts. The boat’s name is “Huzzah!” My first of many projects is scratching the name off. I don’t come up with a replacement name for months.
April 27th, 2008: My 27th birthday. A lady friend shows up and gets me out of my funk. We untie the boat and set sail for the first time. Prior to this, I was too scared to leave the dock. I didn’t want to make an ass of myself or sink. We sail a few miles and anchor near a freeway bridge over the Columbia River. It’s a sunny spring day, and we get schnockered on Gin while playing Scrabble. I watch the sun set behind a creeping traffic jam on the bridge and have a laugh at the expense of the Nine-to-Fivers. I realize buying the boat was a good idea.
May 3rd, 2008: After two days of serious preparation, we sail the 60 miles up the Columbia River from Portland to Hood River. Sailing upstream in Oregon as the spring snowmelt floods the river is a bad idea. It’s slow going on account of the current: beneath the dams you’re occasionally going backwards. I get seasick for the first of many times. We piss off a whole lot of fisherman. The motor breaks. We get rained on. We get snowed on. Four stressful days later we pull into the Hood River Marina only to find they don’t have room for us.
May 10th, 2008: After a week on the guest dock, I’m kicked out of the Hood River Marina. I’m here to kiteboard and Hood River is the Mecca, so I refuse to sail back to Portland. A helpful young sailor informs me of a perfect little anchorage behind an island right outside of town. With a line from the bow tied to a tree and two anchors off the stern, I can nuzzle the boat right up to the steep beach. A five-minute kayak and a five-minute stroll bring me to work at the Big Winds Kiteboard School. Thus begins a truly great summer.
June-August, 2008: If I’m not at work, I’m kiteboarding or sailing. If I am at work, I’m online studying sailing, weather, or plotting routes and probable anchorages on GoogleEarth. Any money I make I put into styling out the boat or kiteboarding gear. The more comfortable I get with the boat and the more I learn, the more attainable the dream of sailing out to sea and taking a left becomes. I meet a bunch of crazy kiteboarders, one of whom decides he’d like to make the trip with me.
September 1st, 2008: My partner in crime, Mack, and I really set out preparing the boat. His uncle owns a boatyard so we’re able to get new batteries, a handheld GPS with nautical charts, a small generator, and other essentials for cost. I also splurge on a new dinghy. $3000 and a few weeks of lazy work later we’re “ready to go”.
September 21st, 2008: I tear my knee to shreds while kiteboarding. I can’t walk very well but this solidifies the desire to make the trip;: I certainly won’t be skiing this winter. After a farewell party, my crewmember Mack and I pass out on the boat. I discover he’s quite the snorer. We set sail downriver an hour before dawn in hopes of making Portland by dusk.
From there, another 24 hours of sailing will bring us to the mouth of the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean, which is where the story starts to get interesting. So tune in next time…
Have a good one!
Max
For the real story check out…
http://oilfreefun.blogspot.com
