Author:  Rosemary Jilderts, Catamaran "Sokari" (Australia)

      I sometimes look back to my days as a young housewife with three young children.  I had many interests.  Boating was not one of them.  Annual holidays were spent camping at the beach but I doubt that I ever noticed any yachts sailing off the coast.  The ocean was just the beach where I went for a swim.   If someone had predicted that in later years I would be sailing through S.E. Asia on my own yacht I would have said, 'Over my dead body'.   
 

      Sailing and living on a small yacht never entered my head.  The fact that there were people actually living that lifestyle would have been beyond my comprehension.  Yet - here I am.  The world spins on its axis, people get on with their lives and one day a small incident becomes the precursor to a totally new way of life.  

      For me, the metamorphosis began when I started talking regularly on CB radio to an interesting man.  My marriage was on the rocks and eventually John and I met, we became friends, and over the next couple of years we fell in love and married.  John was a member of the Volunteer Coastguard and during our courtship he convinced me that we should buy a power boat.  I enjoyed racing around on the Hawkesbury and Parramatta Rivers and, of course, our beautiful Sydney Harbour so long as we were moving and I had the wind in my face.  The moment we stopped I began changing colour to a bilious shade of green.  It would have been totally unthinkable for me to actually consider leaving the harbour and going into open ocean.

      Shortly after our marriage, John, my teenage daughter and I moved to Bowen in North Queensland.  On a day trip to Airlie Beach we hired a small off-the-beach catamaran.  Wow, we thought, this is great. What a life!  We should start a hire boat business. With that simple thought we set in motion a series of events that would change our whole world.  The business was successful and we sold out a few years later to start a similar one at South Mission Beach (on the mainland near Dunk Island) which is still operating over 20 years later.  Living and working at the beach was a great way of life, something neither of us had experienced before.  My daughter learned valuable skills and developed a talent for windsurfing, increasing her self-confidence dramatically.  She and John enjoyed sailing the cats, and even I enjoyed it when it was calm.  Admittedly, I drifted around more than sailed and if the wind piped up too much I high-tailed it for shore.  Even our 2 year old German Shepherd loved it, often jumping onboard with customers, hoping for a sail.  She put me to shame.

      Then the surgeon hit us with a bombshell.  John was diagnosed as having a chronic degenerative spinal disease.  "Change your lifestyle", he said, "or in five years you'll be in a wheelchair".  Totally dispirited and confused, our knee-jerk reaction was to immediately sell the business but the dilemma remained - what else could we do?  While sitting at the beach hiring out the boats, we had watched yachts gliding silently by in the distance and had tried to imagine what that would be like.  A friend, and occasional employee, had recently bought a cruising yacht and was sailing it up to Cairns.  After looking over the boat and seeing how much room there was we figured that we could do that!  We had absolutely no experience with large yachts but what the heck?  With the image of that wheelchair in our minds we decided to make the most of our time.  "Let's give it a go,"  we said.

      Our maiden voyage set me straight.  We planned on leaving at night to be in position to cross Wide Bay Bar (S.E. Queensland) in the morning but couldn't have chosen a worse night to leave.  When family arrived to take us to dinner we didn't give the VHF weather report a second thought.  How's that for being green!  We left just before midnight on a Thursday night (any later and we'd be leaving port on a Friday  a definite no no) but once we had left the harbour we soon realised that the TV weather forecast of 15-20 knots had been underestimated.  Powering up the coast in a strong wind warning and 25-30 knots behind us, huge waves blocked out the shore lights as we plunged down into the troughs.  Spray flew overhead as the bow pulled up and we reared up over the next crest before plunging down once more.  I sat in the cockpit clutching the lifelines with one hand and a bucket with the other while my daughter, also suffering, collapsed into her bunk.  Not wanting to turn around and punch back into the weather, and (what was probably more the truth) we didn't want to look like idiots by aborting, we persevered.  We have since learned our lesson.  The idiots are those who carry on in conditions for which they are unprepared while the smart ones take cover and enjoy a hot cup of coffee (or something stronger) in a protected anchorage.

      We survived the night and despite a number of mechanical breakdowns arrived safely some months later in Cairns.  John was rapt with the boat's sailing performance and he and my daughter enjoyed the exhilaration of sailing a stiff boat that lifted her skirts and took off.  But on my part the minute a breeze piped up I gripped the lifelines so hard my knuckles turned white as I bemoaned the fact that we were going to tip all the way over and I would be dumped unceremoniously into the briny.  And to make matters worse I was constantly seasick.  I was no sailor.  I explained to friends, Sailing is just something I have to put up with to get from A to B, but I love the A's and B's.  I just hope things improve.  They didn't.  But I still loved the lifestyle.  I loved the camaraderie amongst cruisers.  Cheap boats, expensive boats...it didn't matter.  Everyone helped everyone else. We met some wonderful people who quickly became, and most have remained, great friends.  Despite this we began to realise that it just wasn't the life for me.  I was becoming more and more nervous every time we went out for a sail.  Perhaps a catamaran would be better for you, John suggested wistfully.  It would be a nice stable platform. But to afford one, we'd have to build it ourselves. 

      Because of John's condition he had to pace himself and often only worked for half a day.  As the kitty dwindled, we sold something else.  When the caravan went we moved into the boat.  Eventually we sold the drilling rig and when it was time to buy the mast it was our car that went.  Who needs a car when they're cruising, anyway?

      Shakedown/breakdown cruises were taken around Moreton Bay near Brisbane before we headed off on our great adventure which was to explore Cape York Peninsular, the northernmost point of the Australian mainland. 

      Now this was more like it.  Mal-de-mer made a brief appearance for 2 or 3 days at the start of each trip, but I coped and without the heeling I felt much more secure.  I could hardly believe it.  I was actually enjoying this sailing caper. It certainly helped to have a husband who was prepared to compromise by not pushing out in the really rough stuff and who helped in the galley.   My stomach still felt queasy when I went below but it was a big improvement.  That problem was easily overcome on long passages by having a few meals prepared so John could just pop them into the oven to heat up when needed.  For the next few years we explored Cape York and the eastern side of the Gulf of Carpentaria.  Then our world as we knew it changed once more.  Our much loved miniature toy poodle and my elderly father both died within a period of nine months.  We had discussed traveling offshore previously but would not consider it while either of them was alive.  Now we (or more specifically) I had no excuse.

      With much trepidation on my part, we made plans to sail to Darwin where we would clear Customs for Indonesia.  We fitted Sokari out with some new gear, an electric anchor winch to help John's back, a new stove for me, a computer and more safety gear.  Plans were well under way but my heart began having palpitations and I started feeling sick just at the thought of it.  In theory, going offshore was a great idea, but let's face it we'd be going a long way from the coast for the first time.  I would probably get seasick and oh, horror of horrors...what about the Pirates?   All my insecurities surfaced, but I hated to disappoint John.  Being rather intuitive, he noticed my nervousness and reassured me that we'd see how I handled the Gulf of Carpentaria before making a final decision on Indonesia.  His attitude helped me a lot and my enthusiasm increased dramatically as we continued with the preparations.  Eventually we were poised on the brink, anchored at the Pennefather River just above Weipa ready for the two day trip to Gove. 

We had caught heaps of mackerel on the run down the west coast of the cape, we'd walked the beautiful sandy beaches, meals had been prepared and loaves of bread baked for the run across the gulf.  There was nothing to stop us now.  Here goes.  To go offshore or not to go offshore, that was the question.

 As the Queensland coast disappeared over the horizon behind us the nervousness hit hard and my tummy began doing a few somersaults but John kept the meals, glasses of water and cups of tea coming.  I remained in the cockpit throughout the night curled up in a doonah.  I lay there watching our wake under a magnificent star-filled sky.  I could hardly believe it.  I loved it.  I really loved it.  I sat mesmerized for hours as I watched the twin bridal trains trailing behind us where we stirred up the phosphorescence.  It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.  I was transformed.  As the full moon rose behind us I lay in a trance and the nausea was pushed aside temporarily.  Pods of dolphins and pilot whales entertained us for hours day and night putting on magnificent displays as they frolicked around the boat, the juveniles jumping over our trailing fishing lines and the older animals leaping high into the air in front of our bows.  I spent many hours on the catwalk watching these incredible creatures.  Who could not love this? 

      We didn't see another vessel for those two days.  We kept radio scheds with Townsville Radio and then Darwin Radio every morning and afternoon but apart from that we heard not a soul.  It was peaceful.  This was really cruising.  What had I been missing all these years?

      On our last trip we continued to Thailand by way of Singapore and Malaysia.  Once again we were faced with rumours of pirates and threats of terrorism which would have had my nerves strung taut a few years ago.  But having now met so many of the locals we felt confident.  We still traveled alone but knew that by treating the locals with respect and friendliness we would receive the same tenfold.  We were treated wonderfully by all  Indonesians, Malaysians and Thais.

      My increased confidence in John's ability and Sokari's seaworthiness helped to cure my seasickness and I was able to cook as we sailed.   Getting from A to B is as enjoyable as the A's & B's.    It would have been such a terrible shame if I had missed out on all those incredible experiences, learning about the different cultures, and meeting so many wonderful people just because I suffered from nervousness and seasickness.  One short 2-day trip had fixed that. 

      From then on I was committed to offshore sailing.   I loved it all.  The isolation.  Being at one with the elements.  Time to think.  Time to dream. Catching up with old friends in out-of-the- way places.   Despite enjoying the solitude, we get excited at the prospect of having human company again.  There's nothing quite like pulling into an anchorage in a strange country after weeks of unaccompanied sailing and seeing old friends on anchor.  We may not have seen these people for years but we continue the conversation as if we had only seen them yesterday. 

      And the wildlife!  We've seen tail-dancing dolphins and breaching sperm whales in the Indian Ocean, beachcombing monkeys on the beaches of Asia and tired and injured birds have taken refuge on our deck during storms.  We've seen small reef sharks herding shoals of bait fish, we've followed strange wave motions in our dinghy only to discover that underneath each one has been a large turtle that has been creating a bow wave as they've attempted to outrun us.  While diving or snorkelling we have seen sand eels poking their heads and most of their bodies out of the sand looking like seaweed caught in the current but that disappeared back into the sand as we swam towards them.   We've stalked komodo dragons on the beach in Indonesia and watched as dozens of perfect nautilus shells have drifted between our hulls in the ocean.

      We love this life and we love the people we've met.  Who would ever have imagined, knowing me as a typical suburban housewife so many years ago that today I would be travelling through S.E. Asia and, despite today's terrorism alarms, thoroughly enjoying it.

   This is the life.  C'est la vie.  We wouldn't swap it for any other.