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Joe Shields wrote:

> PS: anybody ever do any bluewater cruising in a 22'-23' full keel boat?

Lots of people (including myself, LWL 6.2m). As far as I know the current
record for sailing around the world in a small craft is held by Serge Testa who
did it from 1984 to 1987 in an aluminium boat he designed and built himself
(and modified as he went along - the way you do) from and to Brisbane (S 27d E
153d) and then wrote about in '500 Days, Around the World in a 12 Foot Yacht'
which was 'Self Published by Serge Testa' (! apparently this is one dude who
believes in do-it-yourself) ISBN No: 0 7316 4849 8. It measured 11 feet 10
inches until he added a bowsprit later in the trip. I have seen 'Acrohc
Australis' close-up, it sits in the museum in Brisbane. Not only did both sails
furl from the interior, all controls were accessible from inside while the
hatches were battened down.

Although others may differ I don't think the size or even the suitability of
the boat is really the most important factor. Its something else. Which reminds
me of the cruise of the 'Lena' which I heard about in 1999.



 Of all the tales of the sea I've come across (and there have been a few;
beginning, I guess, with Homer) there is one that sticks in my mind, and
refuses to be forgotten. Its a true story. The source is a magazine article
written by Alan Lucas (who wrote 'Cruising the NSW Coast' and much else) about
a chap and his boat he met at Christmas Island, to the north west of Western
Australia.
 This bloke was a Russian, who had the dream, upon retiring, of sailing around
the world. For most Russians, for most people, it must remain an impossible
dream. But he had a couple of things working in his favour. Firstly, when he
retired from being an engineer, it was the mid '90s, the USSR was no more.
Secondly, he had a boat on the Black Sea.
 But what a boat. 16 foot, built of plywood. Its about the smallest sailing
boat that has an enclosed cabin. Strictly for sheltered water, it had no keel.
I know what it was like because they exist here as 'trailer sailors', just for
day-sailing and weekends perhaps, made for a few pleasant hours on a sunny
Sunday afternoon. It was the size of a large dingy. Even a 2 man tent is
spacious by comparison. Without a keel it could be easily capsized, heavy
weather could send it tumbling end over end, like a body surfer making an
undignified and out of control trip into shore.  Apart from that conventional
wisdom has it that a boat for crossing oceans needs to be at least in the mid
30 foot range to have the  space to carry the necessary food, water, fuel,
spare parts, (books?). As it happened, this lack of carrying capacity wasn't to
be his main problem.
 He had the equivalent of a few thousand dollars saved up to finance his trip.
But it proved to be impossible to take his money with him. He was assured that
he would be able to withdraw funds as he went. First stop was Istanbul. No
money, and his first encounter with an unfriendly foreign bureaucracy (always
such a change from an unfriendly domestic bureaucracy!). I forget the details,
but he entered the Mediterranean worse off than he'd been in the Black Sea,
they ripped him off. And so it went. Nowhere was he able to access his own
money, and every port had its own problems. He was probably generally despised;
for being Russian, for not understanding the language, for having such a
ridiculously small boat, for being poor.
  He continued, out through the Pillars of Hercules and into the ceaseless
swirl of ocean,  then across the well worn route to the New World through the
Caribbean, while suffering all the classic symptoms of malnutrition and scurvy.
He was literally starving,  while surrounded by so much wealth and waste, in
America's favourite holiday destination.
 He got through the Panama Canal. Until recently the price of that was related
to the vessel's carrying capacity, and calculated for cargo ships. For most
sailing yachts it used to be surprisingly reasonable - his bill would have been
modest. One has to supply at least 4 rope handlers. Yachties hang around the
port, and provide this service for each other. Often they traverse the canal a
number of times before taking their own boats through.
 On the other side, between the Galapagos Islands and the Marquesas, lies a
vast stretch of open ocean. About a third of the way across the Pacific, with
no land in-between. Most sailing boats take a month or more, it is often their
greatest challenge, to carry enough food and water, and to put up with the
other people on board, day after week after month, and to keep their vessel in
good repair. One has to always be on the lookout for ropes chafing - or have
them break, after a few days of rubbing somewhere constantly. If anything fails
one has to either fix it or deal with the consequences. Most people try to be
as well prepared as possible. A small boat is a slow boat, I don't imagine he
broke any records for a speedy passage.
 He made it from the Marquesas to Tahiti, where the Commodore of the yacht club
(who held a similarly elevated rank in the French navy) took him under his
wing. This club, I have no doubt, is a seriously exclusive place, dominated by
mandarins of the military.  Beside all the great gleaming yachts, filled with
marvellous gadgets, rarely subjected to anything more moving than a vigorous
polish, lay this tiny battered scrap of a sailing boat and its emaciated owner,
who had already sailed halfway around the world while running on empty. The
mandarins were impressed. With the assistance of the Commodore and his mates,
his boat was repaired and furbished ('refurbished' may not be correct),
provided with charts, more or less useful bits'n'pieces, and doubtless much
good advice. They would have fed him, too. That may have seemed almost surreal,
as travelling experiences sometimes are, to go from starving to the cuisine
enjoyed (expected) by these aristocratic gentlemen. Being Russian we can only
hope he appreciated not least their excellent cognac.
 And so he continued, threading the necklace of Polynesian then Melanesian
islands and reefs. In Brisbane the miracle happened, the Russian banking system
came good with $500. I've wondered whether this could have been a delayed
result of efforts made, possibly through diplomatic channels, by his French
friends.
 So when Lucas came across him in the Indian Ocean he was happy. Things were
going well. There were 2 photos. One was of the boat, with its name LENA in
bold cyrillic characters on the hull. One advantage of not having a keel is
that instead of worrying about anchoring or finding a mooring one can just pull
up the centre-board and sail onto the beach, and this is what the picture
showed.  Simplicity is its own virtue, and leads to further simplicities - a
dingy can thus be done without. The other photo was of the sailor, posed beside
about 18 plastic bottles, freshly filled - his water supply. No two bottles
were identical. Every time he acquired another ex-juice container he augmented
his craft's fresh water capacity. He looked a very ordinary man, in his
sixties, somewhat bald. The picture didn't show any hat, but I've since
wondered whether he didn't wear one. One of those fur numbers with the flaps
that fold down to protect the ears, the sort everyone in Russia sports in
winter. It would be, I think, very practical, but may need to be laced under
the chin to prevent it blowing off.
 And then? I'd like to believe, of course, that he made it back home. I suspect
there were more trials to come. The Red Sea can be a tricky place to negotiate,
headwinds, much traffic, and unfriendly countries on either side. The
alternative, around the bottom of Africa, would have its own problems. The Cape
of Good Hope used to be known, more accurately, as the Cape of Storms. And I
don't know how he could have sailed through the Dardanelles and back into the
Black Sea. Its great rivers (the Danube, the Dnester, the Dneper, the Don)
provide most of the fresh water that flows into the Mediterranean through the
narrow bottleneck of the Bosphorus like a river. Without a motor it would seem
impossible, as the strong winds there tend to come from the north. Jason and
the Argonauts did it with the greatest of difficulty, all straining at the
oars.
 Quite likely I'm being unnecessarily concerned on his behalf. Along the way he
would have come across just about every possible combination of wind and waves;
they didn't stop him, neither did anything else.
 But then who would have believed that he could have made it as far as
Christmas Island, in that flimsy little day-sailor without all the machines and
technologies we presume are necessary, without lots of money we have no doubt
is essential.
 Being Russian, apart from leading to all his problems, also, perhaps, enabled
him to rise above them. Nobody, it seems,  can simply endure like them.

   

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