No Heartbeat but a lot of Heart

It's high time I told our story.

I found Terrance stuck on a shopfront window. I gave him a gentle stroke on his back and he jumped straight off the window into my hand.

Inside the window was an artist's display with a collection of spaceship like structures made from all sorts of toys. I "liberated" Terrance from his former owner with every intention of contacting the artist with a letter.

Something along the lines of;

"Dear Amerentske,

Please do not be worried at my disappearance, I want you to know I ran away from home.

I have joined company with an Australian and become crew of an engineless wooden sailing ship to cross the Atlantic and will send word of my adventures en route.

I thank you for the chance to be part of your art but I just feel the need to make it on my own.

Much love,

Terrance"

Now, like any of the best laid plans. The first letter was never sent and so finally I tell of our journey together. Written for this challenge but also for the artist, whom I can only imagine is still worried sick as to the whereabouts of their little plastic beauty.

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An artist installation in an empty shop window featuring a spaceship like sculpture made of dinosaurs eating each others tails. This was where we first met. Terrance was glued to the outside of the glass. I pet him and he came off into my hand. A moment of consideration. Was this stealing or did he want to come with me? Did he sense the adventure afoot? Or just wish to leave this maniac and the possibility of reaching the same fate?

Love struck me for this little plastic dinosaur. He seemed ready.

We packed ourselves into a bunk in the fo'c's'le aboard Tres Hombres. The engineless wooden brigantine which transports sustainable and organic cargo across seas by wind power. It was destined for a nine month round trip to the Carribean, Central America and USA. Visiting islands and mainlands to pick up and deliver all the good stuff like rum, coffee, tea and chocolate.

We departed Sunday 4th November 2018. After the annual refit it was a little late in the year for sailing south, we got pummelled by the North Sea. The bow constantly driving forth into the waves, slamming down. Giving gut wrenching anti gravity moments in between. We got little rest but saw what we were really made of. Not biscuits, butter or clay but real human grit.

A little rest in the seaside haven of Brixham, England, while a storm past. After wind, rain, roast, pastie and ale we set sail once more. Next we were sailing to Porto to collect shoes and empty port barrels (ready to fill with rum on the other side, a delicious infusion).

Terrance was there for me through this journey of tumultuous seas and internal revelations. For seasick was I for five days straight on the way through the Biscay and we almost left the decks for the stillness of land. Between purges and snooze he reminded me of the consequence of such a departure. I wanted to cross the ocean and Terrance was no different. After we resigned to staying aboard and finding any way possible to manage I took a seasickness tablet. Starting to stomach food and feeling a little better and then we were becalmed (no wind).

Bouncing back to health and full stomach felt incredible. Lucky too, for when we arrived in Porto the river mouth was too chaotic to enter, we waited for two days outside for the waves to calm.

We spent all our time sailing away from the coast and drifting back. The wind was coming from the ocean to the land so we were tacking into it. We could sail approximately 60° so after sailing one direction we would bring the ship around to sail in the other direction 60° off the wind direction. Once far enough away we would heave to, making the sails work against each other and essential stop the ship and we would drift back towards the coast.

Repeating this for 48 hours until finally we found our tow into harbour was no longer able to help due to demand. High winds were on their way, much too dangerous and tiresome for the crew to remain waiting outside. We sailed north through the night to the little Galician town of Baiona to shelter.

Such beautiful rugged coast was only surpassed by the warmth of the locals. Many delicacies and curious little walks around the castles. We took up bingeing Alan Watts lectures, existential thought and purpose to life was full and ready for to go bounding onto the ocean.

Lucky for us we came upon much calmer seas from there on.

So we stayed aboard, Terrance spent most of his time lazing in our bunk although came to help occasionally with dishes or night lookout.

Coasting breezily toward La Palma enjoying every moment of this heavenly sailing.

At night was like another world. It seemed we had reached Neverland. The ship looked like it was powered by a fairy jet engine with a great stream of sparkles and light in our wake. When the sea water flush came through the toilet, with the lights off, it was as if flushing my waste into a galaxy.

The final few days before arriving at the island we had a pod of at least 20 dolphins following us. Which, by night, transformed into fairies. Looking just like tinkerbell. They streamed through the bioluminescence. All we could see was the rough outline lit up and a stream of light behind them.

Couldn't imagine what could make this more magic?

Well a meteor shower occurred at the same time. Epic night skies and shooting stars are regular at sea due to the lack of light pollution. But for those few nights they were constantly gracing our eyes.

We arrived in something close to a dream. Which, when only sleeping for 4 hours at a time aboard a rocking ship, are pretty epic too.

Dreams of great battles, gladiators and sometimes demons, recounted each breakfast. Named Tres Hombres TV it was one of our main forms of entertainment aboard. Other forms included riddles, recounting stories, jokes and making bread ready for the morning.

A nice spell on La Palma, a volcano island as steep as the steps to heaven. Our cook sprained her ankle hiking the massive slopes and inspired all by her determination to not let it slow her down.

21st December we departed for our ocean passage. I had dreamt of swimming in the big blue, with 6km of water below and delighted that we got the opportunity.

It was Christmas Eve. Never have I woken and dressed for the occasion so quickly as when I heard the call down the fo'c's'le hatch. "We're going swimming... with a whale!"

We were becalmed whilst in the presence of a fin whale.

After so much splashing about getting in I had feared we had scared our companion away but at long last a call from the Captain on deck, "Look down!"

I pointed my goggles into that endless deep blue beneath me. There it soared. The unmistakable silhouette. Incomprehensible size. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the passage ahead. I felt I had been blessed.

On a broad reach heading for most of the passage we slowly rose and fell over that enormous swell. The further south the warmer it became, shorts and t-shirts even at night. As we moved west we were changing our clocks to catch up with the day. Captain's word was law. Money was useless, snacks and tobacco become currency. We were our own little country for those three weeks.

The days broken up by the occasional sailing maneovre, training with the stun sails, watching flying fish skipping over the waves and carpets of golden seaweed larger than the ship in great streams, one patch following the next, strangely organised and of course ship maintenance.

Jobs like tarring the rigging and scrubbing the decks is now as ever immensely important on wooden ships.

The beautiful part of working aloft is getting to see even more ocean. Spanning ship to horizon. Terrance and I would often take my trumpet up for a tune on one of the yard arms. Up there, the cliched feeling of being so infinitesimally small and blessed to be alive magnified in the majesty of scenes before us.

The beautiful part of scrubbing decks is giving love every day to the boat that has seen so many sailors blood sweat and tears. Keeping her ship shape is an honour. Knowing she will continue to give experiences such as this to people long after I leave the decks.

So, no engine, square sails and plenty of traditionally minded folks who like a challenge. We switched off the GPS on departure from La Palma. We crossed with sextants, log, celestial bodies, a lot of math and our wits. Checking the GPS on arrival near Barbados, we were only one nautical mile from where we thought we were. A voyage of over two and a half thousand nautical miles.

Now the smile wasn't wiped off my face since the whale but may have occasionally been a grimace as I was gripped by chronic sciatic pain, slowly increasing throughout the voyage. Possibly caused by the extensive re-caulking job I did on the foredeck to ensure our crew slept in dry beds. Or more possibly the stress and anxiety, previously managed by alcohol, exacerbated by my longest time sober in quite a number of years quashed away from my conscious brain into my body. Either way I realised I was not to continue that seafaring voyage .

Sad to leave but ready to return home, Terrance and I bought a plane ticket via Toronto back to Melbourne, almost three years from when I had originally left my job and flew to England to see what I might find. Having never sailed before that, it obviously took many turns of events I would never have guessed in my wildest dreams. Watch this space.

Our final night we lazed in a hammock, enjoyed a bucket of beers on the beach. The next day we were in the middle of a snowstorm.

Staying at a friends apartment in Toronto I felt like I was a land tourist. Fluffy towels after hot fresh water showers, button flush toilets that don't rock as you go. We spent the week either in the bath or bingeing Netflix.

It may have seemed a little too surreal to have even occurred. But the poetry of opening my trumpet case loaded with tobacco, spices and my dear little Terrance brought back the reality of this incredible experience.

The arrival back to my family home was short and sweet, just four days. Then we hopped a plane to Adelaide and started our new career as theatre technician. Working for Darkfield, Australia in their immersive binaural audio experiences inside totally dark shipping containers at Adelaide Fringe Festival, one of the largest performing arts festivals of its kind.

The following year was a combination of working this portable show, travelling to various cities, and in-between guiding small group adventure tours up the east coast from Sydney to Cairns. Terrance always in pocket or bag coming along for the adventure.

As the world started to go into its shell last year we bought a van to be sure of a roof over our heads. We did much more internal exploration than out and enjoyed the delights of living in a house. All the niceties and conveniences.

But also the time was due for some internal exploration of the source of my chronic pain. Stored trauma from years gone by, it was a tough ride amidst the horror of the pandemic. But finally when the wall of steel around Melbourne came down and we were permitted we packed the van and got straight into nature. Enjoying every leaf of every tree we passed. Through mountains and coast all around Victoria we rolled. Meeting many characters along the way.

This year we continued our internal journey by living at a couple of different meditation retreat centres. Finally ready to re-emerge from our shell into Melbourne just before the end of what they say was the last lockdown.

And so, living here for now and enjoying a little house time again. Terrance particularly likes the treelined streets and getting to hang our washing on a clothes line instead of a rope.

When I found the spiderwebs in his mouth it also sparked my memory of a potential next occupation and got in contact. He is particularly excitable about this one.

We just started working with Real Dinosaurs. We'll be in and around Toby the T-Rex (a four metre dino puppet) for theatre and children's parties. I am grateful for this next opportunity and would not have thought of it if were not for the best pet in the world Terrance!

** Note for Amerentske Koopman - I sincerely hope you can forgive me for stealing your little dinosaur. Also that word of his adventures has brought you joy. Ever thankful. Winnie.