“Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.”

 — Ibn Battuta

 

If there is one thing I have learned about this lifestyle we have chosen, it is that I will have stories to tell for a lifetime. In any single day, incidents, accidents, amazing sights and discoveries, add to my repertoire. As a writer, I’m predisposed to storytelling. I have so many stories now that I’m dealing with sensory overload.

In my last blog, I described the ordeal of getting a new inverter as our old one gave up on life. I told the story of our amazing trip to Venice, meeting up with friends and touring the most unique and scenic city we’ve ever encountered. Then, we returned home and back to the reality of life on a sailboat. 

It was time to take a deep breath and try to figure out, as best we could, a plan of action for our continued journey. In normal times, this would be relatively simple. You plan a route. You fuel up and provision. You pick a good weather window. Then, you sail. Circumnavigating has been this way for hundreds of years.

 

Bearers of Bad Luck

 

Unfortunately, we picked one of the worst times in our world’s history to sail around the world. Weather patterns seemed to be getting more unpredictable as the years pass. Winds used to have consistency during certain seasons. 

You could plan a passage with a percentage of confidence that winds would be predominantly from a certain direction during a given season. We spent two weeks in northern Spain waiting for winds from the north, the predominant direction for September. This year, was an anomaly. 

Next on the list of usual events making our lives difficult is, of course, a world pandemic. There is no consistency as to which countries are open to travel for mariners. They might be open one day, then closed the next. There is a whole different set of rules for boats than people driving or flying into a country. We have been prohibited from several countries we would have liked to visit. 

I would love to see Morocco on our route south. Morocco extended their prohibition of sailing vessels until November 1st. It remains to be seen if they mean it or if they will stay shut. 

What makes no sense is that you can travel to Morocco by plane or even by ferry. You just can’t sail there. We are hoping they lift their restrictions and we can spend a couple of days in Africa. Seriously. We sailed halfway around the world, and finally, have the bragging rights, “I sailed to Africa!” However, we may just have to wave at the shoreline as we pass by.

Then, there are the Orca encounters. This is a new pattern of behavior for these creatures. It began about two years ago. No one knows why these mammals suddenly have it out for sailboats. A steady parade of boats is being towed into harbors with thousands of dollars of damage to their rudders. And the new news? Last week, the Orcas damaged their first fishing boat. Watch out motorboats. They have now added motor boats to their list. 

As we travel south through known pods of Orca rebels, we have to make a decision. Do we hug the coast and pray for safe passage? The second option is to high-tail it straight out to sea far enough from the coast to avoid the pods. They only attack up to 10 miles from the coast. Hugging the coast used to be safe but now they have caught on to that trick and have damaged boats right up to the harbor entrances. It doesn’t appear as if this fad will fade any time soon.

 

Learning to Adjust

 

Our plans change from day to day. Factor in weather unpredictability, entire countries closing, rogue marine animals, essential parts breaking, and you just have to learn to go with the flow. 

Our initial plan was to sail into the Mediterranean after we were denied going to the Baltics because of Covid closures. However, because of delays getting parts, bad weather, and our side trip to Venice, we had to change plans. After spending two winters at a marina in Ireland, I implored Dan to take us to the Virgin Islands for the winter. It’s been over two years since I’ve been swimming, snorkeling, scuba diving… I want to lay on a beach in the warm sand this winter and catch mahi for dinner. We could winter in the Med, but it’s cold and windy, and certainly not beach and swimming weather.

Great! We can sail to the tropical warmth of the Caribbean. Getting there is the issue. We don’t want to miss sailing in the Med so this means we will have to cross the Atlantic, then cross back next spring to spend the summer in the Med. We will be spending over a month crossing the Atlantic if we go with this plan. 

Another reason for going to the islands is that it’s an easier location for visits from family and friends. Since we are not flying home this winter, our children and three grandchildren will have to come to see us. We have rooms at a resort in the Dominican Republic all booked for the first week in January. The best case scenario is that we successfully sail there. Plan B, we can put the boat in a marina and fly to join our family.

 

Where We Go from Here

 

Currently, we are in a marina in Lisbon. I have loved being in this city. It has been an education as the history is incredible and we have had the opportunity to visit the older sections and wander through the incredible architecture.

The marina is located in the newer section, built especially for the World Expo held here in 1989. There is no lack of stores, restaurants, and fun attractions all within walking distance of the boat. We thought we would be here for two weeks maximum, We came here to leave the boat in the marina for our trip to Venice. A month later, we are still here. That’s the way this life goes.

Our inverter broke and we had to wait for a new one to be shipped to Cascais, the harbor we spent several weeks in, an hour west of Lisbon. Then our satellite phone died. We had to order a new one to get weather reports for when we cross the Atlantic to the Caribbean. It was going to take three weeks to get the phone repaired. 

This is where the story part comes in, as I explained, our daily lives are filled with them. 

The inverter arrived on schedule as I described in my last blog post. Dan installed the new inverter which required new wiring and modifications for installation as the new unit was slightly larger than the old one. Dan toiled for several days, but finally, the unit was in, wired, and ready to go.

Happily, He turned it on. The expletives immediately followed. It was the wrong unit. Dan ordered a 110 volt for our American wiring system. The unit he installed was 220 volts, the European standard. It was not clearly marked on the box it came in or on the unit so there was no evidence it was the wrong voltage until Dan turned it on and our system was immediately overloaded. 

Once again, we had to make the trip by walking, bus, and train to Cascais. We were able to exchange the unit for the right one, but the 110 volt was going to cost an additional 280 euros. Of course!

One more speedbump in our journey, but we persevered and prevailed. Dan installed the new inverter, the right one this time. Our satellite phone arrived. They sent a whole new phone so even though the repair was $500, we did get a new phone from the deal.

 

Time to Celebrate

 

Hooters. It may be a small thing for those of you that live in the United States. It’s just a restaurant that has scantily clad waitresses and really great wings. Dan says it’s the wings, but for Dan, Hooters is a mission. His goal is to visit every Hooters in the world. He loves their wings that much. 

Last summer when we drove across the US, twice, we knocked a few more off the list. We have currently visited 60 Hooters in 4 countries. Can you imagine how excited Dan was when I accidentally discovered a Hooters halfway between Cascais and Lisbon? What are the odds!

Dan looked up the restaurant in Google Maps and we researched the bus and train needed to get there. The best part was this Hooters was located on a beautiful beach. Dan informed me that this franchise was opened in 2019 and was relatively new. We could spend the day celebrating all our accomplishments by relaxing in the sun, then have a hot wing dinner before taking the train and bus back home. Sounded like a great plan. 

We arrived around 2:00 and walked a mile from the train to the beach. A strip of restaurants and cafes lined the beach. Surfers bobbed in the waves. It was a gorgeous 70-degree day, gentle breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Dan eagerly scanned the rooftops for the familiar bright orange roof. He spotted it and decided to walk down to Hooters before lounging on the beach. 

As we got closer, the umbrellas on the deck were all closed, strange for such a beautiful day. Dan checked his phone; it said the restaurant was open, but it sure looked closed. As we arrived, we could see that not only was Hooters closed, but it hadn’t been open for a while. Signs hung askew, the deck was dirty and covered with debris. 

It was a sad moment. Apparently opening a new restaurant when the world is being shut down from a pandemic is not a recipe for success. Having opened in 2019 was unfortunate timing. Google not telling us the restaurant was closed, well, that was just plain mean. To coin a current trend…“Let’s Go Google!”

 

A Strange Ride Home

 

All of our trips between Lisbon and Cascais on mass transit were conducted off-hours, until this day. We had successfully avoided rush hour. We spent the day on the beach, but since our dinner plans were ruined, I told Dan to find the best pizza in Lisbon on our route home, and we could have his second favorite food for dinner since Hooters had been a bust. Unfortunately, we would be traveling at rush hour.

We walked to the train. There were hordes of people waiting to board. This was a first for us as we always had seats and no one had to stand on previous trips. We squeezed ourselves into a car, crammed against the back wall, holding onto a pole. Two young Portuguese females were arriving from the other side of the car at the same time. We packed together around the pole. 

We all braced as the door hissed shut but there wasn’t much need to hold on as we were packed in like sardines. As we chugged along, I started looking closer at the mass humanity around us. I studied the faces and wondered what the stories were behind them. It was then I saw a face that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

A very tall middle eastern man was standing across from us. Everyone was wearing masks but the feature that creeped me out was his eyes. They were staring like laser beams at the young Portuguese woman next to me, who was happily chatting with her friend. His eyes were directed at her chest, unblinking, maniacal.

Then, I spotted something very peculiar about the man. Inside his breast pocket was a cell phone. It was raised above his pocket just enough for the phone’s camera to be exposed. I could see there was something underneath the phone raising it intentionally to hold it in place.

As I watched in horror, I noticed that every time someone shifted around him, he would jostle his way so that his phone had a direct line of sight to the woman’s chest. She was wearing a low-cut tank top and he was filming her. 

How did I know for sure? We made a few stops. There were not many people getting on or off. Finally, at one stop, a man boarded and pushed his way to our pole. He blocked the view of the man with the camera phone. The man glared at the back of his head. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a device. He clicked it. At the same moment he clicked the other device, I saw a blink of the camera phone. He had just shut his operation down. 

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to yell at the man but I was afraid. What if he had a weapon? Would he become violent? I didn’t know if the girl spoke English. If I warned her, would she panic? I didn’t have much time to think as the train pulled up to the final destination, the heart of Lisbon City.

While I’m not sure, my guess is that this girl had picked up on the creep staring at her. As soon as the train halted, she bolted, leaving her friend, and was the first to stand against the door. The man was right behind her. He pressed up against her back as she stood as close to the door as possible. Everyone was packed behind them.

I grabbed the arm of her friend. I asked her, “Do you speak English?”

She nodded yes. I quickly told her about the man and his camera. We both watched as the doors hissed open and the crowds funneled out the door like sand from an hourglass. 

I let the girl pass us in hopes she would find her friend and warn her about her stalker. By the time Dan and I managed to squeeze out, there was no sign of either of the girls or the stalker. 

While I had no idea how this story would end, I did send up prayers that this man meant no harm to the young lady. As we made our way out of the station and toward the bus stop, little did I know the strange events would continue.  

 

And We Thought the Train Was Packed?

 

Ah, the bus. At least the train had a wall to shield us from 360 degrees of humanity. When we arrived at the bus, we were lucky to find a space just inside the door. People were packed tightly into the aisle of the bus, reaching for anything they could find for a handhold. Dan and I only made it to the first seat. I thought for sure the driver would close the door. Nope.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the 300-pound man approach the bus. I thought there was no way the driver would let him in. He was not wearing a mask which is required for public transportation in Portugal. 

When he came up behind me, I turned to look at him. His face was wet with drool and there were crumbs of food stuck to his face. His bulk smashed into me from behind but his focus was on the first seat. It was an extra-wide single seat, raised, and designated for the handicapped. A woman was sitting there listening to her headphones.

Suddenly, the man grunted in a loud, angry tone, pointing at the woman in the seat. She didn’t respond at first. The man became agitated and grunted louder, pointing angrily at the woman. She finally looked up and quickly gathered her things. 

We now had to jostle to get her out of the seat into the aisle as the man wedged himself into the vacated spot. I refused to stay next to him so I forced Dan and myself further down the aisle. 

As the bus finally took off, I heard music coming from the front. The man was playing music from his cell phone, ironically, Dancing Queen. 

Dan was carefully watching the stops as we only had four before we had to get off. Around the second stop, the bus was waiting at the curb for traffic to pass. I was studying the back of the large man’s head, wondering how a non-verbal man was functioning on his own in a city.

It was then I saw his attention drawn to an attractive woman standing on the sidewalk, just outside his window. She had her daughter with her. The man paused, then began rapping on the window with the knuckle of his middle finger. The woman didn’t notice at first. The rapping became louder but was slow and steady.  

Finally, the woman looked up and saw the gigantic bald person beckoning her from inside the bus. She froze in horror, staring back at him. I saw his profile as he looked at her and very slowly and carefully mouthed some words. I have no idea what he said, but the woman grabbed her daughter and bolted.

 

Not Over Yet

 

When we reached our stop, I was quite ready to get off. We forced ourselves through the throng and exited out the middle door of the bus. I was glad we had so many good experiences using the train and bus because if any of our rides had been like these, I don’t think I would have taken public transportation again. The bus drove away quickly and Dan and I were standing on the sidewalk near the cruise ship terminal of Lisbon.

Consulting his phone, Dan pointed in a direction and I started walking. I was trying to clear my head of the strange incidences. We both walked in silence.

We were looking for wood-fired pizza, supposedly the best in Lisbon from the reviews. As I walked, I began to notice something disturbing. We were walking along the waterfront. In front of me was a gigantic shipping container lot as far as the eye could see, and a highway on the other side. I looked back at Dan and he shrugged.

About five minutes later, we could see no buildings, just containers piled to the sky and a highway underpass. Tucked away in the underpass were a few tents and vagrant men sitting in the shadows. It was getting dark. I had a very bad feeling.

Thankfully, Dan shouted, “Hold on. I think we are going in the wrong direction.”

That was music to my ears. I was not happy with the view in front of us. We quickly changed direction and backtracked past the bus stop and toward the cruise ship terminal. In another five minutes, we found the quaint little restaurant with a beautiful view of the river.

We had a delicious Portuguese wood-fired pizza. We relaxed and laughed about our day. With our bellies full, we caught a bus back to the marina. Rush hour had dissipated. There were plenty of open seats. We breathed a sigh of relief.

 

What Lies Ahead

 

As I am typing this story, I have several meals cooking at once. I’m preparing pre-made dinners that I only have to heat up for our upcoming passage. We may be stopping at a city or two along the coast. Then again, we may head straight out to sea for a week and go directly to the Canary Islands. We will miss this city and marina and new friends we made here, Mary and Rick and lovely Rada. We have made too few new friends in the last two years of this journey. 

My job is to be prepared for whatever happens, food-wise. I leave the decisions and the navigating to the expert. I have no expectations for where we will end up or when. I’m just thrilled that most everything on the boat is working and that we are now able to continue traveling. It’s been a strange couple of months, challenging, horrifying, wonderful, and exciting. 

It’s always my hope that things go smoothly, at least for a while. I hope we have good weather, steady breezes in the right direction, calm seas, and lots of sunshine. I thrive on those moments and cherish them when they appear. And when shit hits the fan, as it’s not if, it’s when, well, we will cross that bridge together and figure things out. 

The good news is that the trying moments make the best stories. I love telling stories. I could do without the chaos, but then, would I have good stories to tell? 

As always, thank you for your support. May you have smooth sailing and sunny skies in your life. 

Alison and Dan

 s/v Equus

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