LAST BUT NOT LEAST: THANK YOU GROENESTEK!

LOCATION NOTES:

Den Helder: for those who have been around Tres Hombres since her early days, this name will ring more than one bell and recall many memories. It is a town in Noord Holland which faces the island of Texel and looks over the Wadden Zee, with its place in the maritime history of the Dutch navy and fleet.

This is where the headquarters are, in Willemsoord. Where Teerenstra is, the shipyard where Tres Hombres drydocks and gets refitted since 2008. Just on the other side of the canal from the shipyard, there is a green oasis called De Groene Stek, managed by Judith, a strong woman who would deny a smile to no one!

Judith has a great team who works with her in the garden, a team made by special people who would be let apart in society otherwise, people who are differently able but so often get described as disabled. They work setting goals which are tailor-made for everyone involved in the project, matching their personal needs and aiming for real improvements, mental and physical benefits, creating a safe place of acceptance where people otherwise rejected by society can learn new skills.
Through growing veggies and herbs, they grow themselves too! Gardening becomes therapy for them, probably the best and most effective, a way to stay socially connected letting Nature do the healing that is needed.

From there we take the veggies we need for the refits and for the beginning of the winter voyages for many years. We go there to harvest them ourselves, to chat with the people, to cut the apples that will dry in the oven and be served as snacks on board, and to spend some time in this urban oasis of organic agriculture.

Fairtransport and De Groene Stek are long-term friends, Judith has been supporting many cooks and provisioning the galley of Tres Hombres for a long time, during the refit as well as at sea.
And she is so stunningly generous that fresh veggies aren’t the only gift she provides! Let Eddie tell you more about it…

PROVISIONING:

So we are coming to the end of the winter voyage. Reflecting on the time that has passed there is a very clear group that contributed to making the galley what it was.
Groenestek! You have been with us the whole way, and every person on board knows and is so grateful for your gifts. Thank you for your abundant generosity!

A short summary of what they gave
us…

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Take a good look at her (By Natalia Boltukhova)

Take a good look at her!

The curves. The canvas. The tempting lines.
The salt, whispering from the crevasses in the weathered wood. The wind, the memory of which is trapped into the folds of the harbour
furl.

She is Tres Hombres, Tres for the crew. Trusty, steady, free.

What most might not realize is that she is so much more than an engine-free sailing cargo ship. Sure,
carrying rum, wine, gin, chocolate, and coffee, Tres sounds badass enough.
Her true power, however, lies in bending time and transforming space.
She navigates dimensions and realities with the same grace and ease that she does the waves.

Those stepping aboard soon feel the simultaneous pull of the gravity in one direction, and complete
freedom from it in another. Like surfing a wave on a humongous windsurf board.
In the one sense, the seeming downgrade in lifestyle conveniences common in what
we agree to call the developed world comes crashing down like saltwater splashing
you from behind while you’re scrubbing the pan after the dinner, in the dark, in the cold seawater,
while the world around you rocks back and forth.
Never stable, never entirely clean, all the while clad in layers of slightly damp “warm” clothes.
You know, The Reality.
The Reality of realizing that no other life form we know has showers with hot water switched
on with a turn of a valve. Or a bed that could fit six people, but only one sleeps in it.

The Reality of weightlessness in space and time, head up, gaze tracing the neuro-net
between the stars, back to the immediacy of compass and steering,
when the line between where the ship ends and you begin, blurs, like the horizon
stitching the ocean and the sky. The ship becomes the means through which
you become a complete, inseparable part of the entire world, galaxy, universe.
It is indeed, a transporting vessel, true that.

The Reality that despite our nature and nurture, we are all more similar
than we are different, that deep down we all crave love, understanding, and belonging.
Tres is capable of doing just that. It doesn’t matter where you step on and off.
Remember, she bends time and space. Where and when doesn’t matter.

Sixteen of us started this journey together in Den Helder, four stepping off in Douarnenez,
more joining in Baiona, and so on. Already it feels like parting with family.
Speaking of which, a few days in, with the watch routine setting in, the friendly bickering
between the crew sparkled here and there, adding to the whole family vibe,
no less than grinding more coffee beans than needed (and with a hand grinder no less!)
so that the other watch doesn’t have to do it;
or taking the load off the cook’s shoulders for a day, or taking one for the team scrubbing the toilet,
or rushing to cast off the correct line when in the heat of the moment
a less experienced one mixes them. That’s love and respect.

When you trust someone else – a complete stranger in the case of Tres – to have your back,
to keep watch while you sleep, bake the sourdough bread that you kneaded and put into the pans,
you cede the sole control of the situation, thus becoming part of something larger than yourself.
That’s your belonging.

When you and your crew member dangle bent over a swaying yard, folding the unyielding sail
desperately and fruitlessly trying to convince it to furl
(“Argh – for satan!” – a classic Danish sail coaxing spell),
hear the same response from the sail: “I’m just not meant to furl, hon”, that’s understanding.

And there you have it.

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Departure Tres Hombres (by Giulia Baccosi)

On a grey, Sunday afternoon our good ship Tres Hombres and her happy crew set sail and cast off lines to head where the fishes fly and the sun shines bright: the Caribbean paradise!

The refit is finally over, but a new chapter begins now for the sailing crew who hold in their hands a blank new page: they’ll write their own story of their sail cargo adventure because every voyage is unique and unrepeatable. As much as these papers wait to be filled in with memories, the cargo hold longs to welcome once again barrels of spirits and bags of beans.

There is always some sort of epicness blowing in the wind when this annual event comes! A surreal excitement vibrates in all the people present, on land, on the tug, on board. You can definitely feel it, almost touch it. So much work has been done and we were all looking forward to this moment to come: the ship is ready for her 13th voyage around the Atlantic!
This was made possible by all the commitment, dedication and hard work of us all. Well done, everyone! We did it together!

The land and refit crew, together with friends and family members, gathered on the quay in front of our headquarters in Willemsoord to wave their goodbyes and send their good wishes for the winds to be fair and the journey to be safe. Tres was looking dazzling after all the care she received in the past two months and the light that was sparkling in the eyes of the sailing crew was stunning.
Our loyal tugboat, the GAR, a historical vessel that celebrated its 100 years of activity on the water this year, came alongside to fast the lines. As tradition Capt. Dirk and his wife Louise towed the ship out of the locks into the North Sea while people onshore followed her way from the canal, the walls of the lock till the dike. Fair Winds Black Lady, see you when the winter ends!

The first encounter at sea has been with a massive oil rig platform, an image that strongly contrasts with the beauty of this wooden brigantine sailing by, remembering us why we do all this.
The last line went off and the topsail got raised first. Tres Hombres was finally free to do what she knows best: sailing the oceans powered only by the winds!

An unexpected twist happened just as we all thought that was it. A last-minute accident delayed the actual departure of a night: a crew member injured himself, lightly. For safety reasons, Captain Francois decided to drop anchor and as a precaution evacuate him with the rescue boat of the coast guard of Den Helder in order to bring him as quickly as possible to the hospital to be checked. You don’t go out at sea unless you’re totally sure that your crew is fully able! After confirming that it was only a minor injury, the crew member got back on board with a second ride of the tugboat and at dawn, they heaved up the anchor and headed off with the first morning lights. A final rush of stress for us all but that’s life: not always smooth as we wish but a constant surprising challenge and learning opportunity. The crewmate is now doing well and happily sailing along.

A challenging first leg awaits them now, a passage that will take them over the cold North Sea waters before passing the white cliffs of the Dover Straits which marks the entrance of the jam-packed English Channel, crowded with container ships, fishing vessels and windmill farms, sailing between the tides and the currents, by unstable winds and along and across the treacherous TSS (Traffic Separation Schemes). This is possibly one of the most technical legs of the whole journey, where weather and navigation require high levels of seamanship. Crossing the Atlantic is nothing compared to crossing the English Channel engineless!

Their first port of call is Douarnenez, an historical fishing port located in the most western part of the legendary Celtic region of  Brittany, in France. There, empty barrels and cargo will be loaded, together with good amounts of salted butter, apple juice and cider for the happiness of the crew.

Our brave sailors are out at sea now while we write and read, pushed by favourable winds while they slowly realize their dream is becoming true: they’re sailing the ocean engineless on the one and only Tres Hombres!

 

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Observations (by captain Anne-Flore Gannat)

Mornings are grey, afternoons are sunny.

Probably an effect from temperature changes.

Dense fog at times and horn sound from invisible creatures.

The Moon is growing each day among the stars.

Breads rise well and overflow into the bottom of the oven and are delicious.
The four cans of tea and coffee are very often filled up due to the annual usual frozen summer in the North sea.

Stories and laughter at night go well in many directions.
The proud crew is tacking the ship as if it was their children’s toy.

Falcons and birds dare to pause on deck or on the yards and fly away when we move around the canvas.

The culinary experience is still a pleasure these days.
Twelve mackerels ended up in the oven, two were missing…for the vegetarians’ demand, they got it for the next meal. Yep, sausages have been shared too.

Beauty and serenity of tight ropes and slack lines, standing or running, ready to be activated, to be touched.
Not all of them are meant to be embraced, nevertheless they are essentials.

Mystery of life, what is the message sent when the wind isn’t turning into a convenient way.
Okay, the convenience is dictated by nature. Find resourcefulness draw from deep.
Being a drop of water in this immensity, a grain of dust on the planet and I forget to find reasons for every matter.

Just go on the dear seas.

Just observe.

Sentinel of faraway.

A-F

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Het benedendeksels orkest (by Merlijne Marell)

Ergens tussen 14:00 en 19:15 word ik wakker in het foxhole door een combinatie van heftige golfbewegingen en de daarbij behorende geluiden.

Naast me, aan de andere kant van de boothuid, snelt het water in een kolkende, bruisende stroom. Iets hoger klinkt de golfslag, de typische af- en aanzwellende ruis van de zee. Af en toe krijgt de boot een opdonder, een dreun van een golf beukt een eigenwijze richting.
Binnenin het schip kraakt ‘t hout van de bedden, kletsen voorwerpen tegen de mast, schommelen kleren en klimtuigen aan de waslijnen.
Er dringen kookgeluiden vanuit de galley via de drystore naar beneden. Ook de drystore zelf laat haar orkest van schuddende potten en een rammelende ankerketting klinken.
Iemand daalt naar beneden om uit de voorraad te putten en ik hoor het schrapzetten, het opendraaien van een vat, het wiebelen van een kom.
Op het dek roept iemand iets over de innerjib, opgevolgd door een meerstemmig ‘twooo… six, twooo… six.’

Een slapeloze poos later: ‘Goodmorning foxhole, it is a quarter past seven and time for dinner and your watch.’

 

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The “Tres Hombres” on dry land (by Daniel Haller)

Voluntarily and together

The men grab gloves, one makes do with a blanket. Then the lid comes off the end of the long box. Steam rises. They quickly get the hot plank out. But wait: you imagine a board, not a plank. With a thickness of 8 cm, this one looks more like a beam. They take it to the port stern of the “Tres Hombres” standing on dry land, where removed planks have left a hole in the hull through which one can see the former stern tube from the time when the ship was still under the engine. They routinely fix the tapered end with screw clamps to the plank below the hole and press against the hull with wooden beams and jacks. Then it becomes clear why screw clamps bear their name: meter by meter, they force the originally straight plank onto the arched hull, giving it the necessary twist. After about half an hour to and fro, the thick wood nestles against the hull. here it stays and cools down overnight and thus takes on the shape with which it fits into the outer skin of the ship.

For hours, the volunteers who work on the annual overhaul of the “Tres Hombres” boiled water in converted gas bottles and fed the steam through thick hoses into the chamber, which is insulated with old sleeping bags and woolen blankets. At the same time, others were working on further planks, making templates from long strips of plywood, cutting out the rough shape, planing, and sanding the raw Douglas fir planks taken from the sawmill. They work on a plank on starboard that had already been steamed yesterday, fastened it with steel jacks, car jacks, wedges, and screw clamps, as well as beating it into position with a large mallet. It is taken out again to make the final adjustments by hand. The adjustments are not enough and the process continues the next day.

Inside the ship is largely empty. The partition walls have been removed, and even the steel water tanks have been lifted from their anchoring so that the frames to which the old planks were attached and new planks are fastened, with thick carriage bolts, can be accessed. At the same time, you can get to places that you would otherwise not be able to remove rust. The noise of the needle guns operated with compressed air, the hand planes, and angle grinders that are used in various places would be unbearable without hearing protection. When you meet for a coffee break or lunch, dusty figures emerge from the hull.
Anyone who needs a helping hand in between will find it quickly.

What appears to be chaos at first glance quickly turns out to be an accumulation of goodwill that can be coordinated with just a few words. English is spoken, as onboard. In between, you can hear French, German, and Dutch. The professions are just as diverse as their origins: one morning, a Canadian aircraft mechanic is standing on the scaffolding with a brush and paint who has given up her job at Boeing. The German electrical engineer, who no longer liked his job in the auto industry, joins his first plank. It fits. And when I needed a partition to remove the completely rusted door lock of the companionway to the Foxhole, but had no experience with the dangerous machine. A Hungarian with the dreadlocks turned to help me. He brings experience from the heavy industry as well as being a video producer. The replacement for the brightwork on the bow, which broke on the return across the Atlantic, was carved by a young Dutch carpenter who lives on a nine-meter boat like alternative youths elsewhere in a trailer. The work is then painted by the German wood sculptor who studied architecture. On one side of the ship, electronic rap pounds from the loudspeaker through the noise of the machinery, while Mali blues and Fela Kuti’s Afropop play on the other.

The jobs are distributed by a Dutchman who has been with the “Tres Hombres” since the beginning. He was increasingly bored with his work in construction because it was more and more about the assembly of prefabricated houses. Then the Israeli ship officer is greeted with a loud hello, who also brought a friend in work clothes with her. The French DJ, who installed his electronic equipment on the ship on which we are temporarily housed, planes the newly installed planks smooth from the outside, while the former test ski driver and outdoor article marketer from France and a rig specialist from Holland hammer hemp into the cracks and then seal them with tar. “Love Tar” – someone wrote with a black handprint on the refrigerator standing outside, which houses butter and cheese for snacks or the after-work beer.
Theoretically, work ends at six, but hardly anyone starts clearing away the tools, unrolling the cables, and wiping up the wood shavings with a broom before half-past six. Most of them have never sailed on the “Tres Hombres”. Some hope to be able to ride in the future, others are just so proud, with bright faces, to help set up an alternative for bed and food.

Braked by Corona
Wednesday, the beginning of autumn: the wind is strong. It almost rips the flat bowl with the paint out of my hand. If I dip the roller in the paint, which is based on linseed oil, sometimes a gust of paint tears a thread of color in the air. Below me a colleague is covering the waterline with masking tape, I have to stop so as not to stain him. Later he “chases” me and, for his part, paints the area below the masking tape with copper-based antifouling paint, while a black drop of paint flies onto the left lens of his glasses when I coat the hull above the waterline with elegant, shiny black.
A week and a half ago we put in the whiskey plank. This is the name of the last plank that closes the hull again and that – analogous to the topping-out in a building on land – is celebrated with a bottle of the appropriate spirit and a short speech. The work on the outer skin was far from over: In addition to caulking the joints with hemp and tar, we sealed all the holes in which the screws are countersunk with wooden pegs. In addition to the new planks, all the small areas where the old paint was peeling were sanded and primed. So the fuselage got the appearance of a patchwork quilt – now the final coat is twice as fun.

Despite the wind, the mood is almost euphoric. We would have wanted to let the Tres Hombres into the water today. But the ubiquitous Corona protective measures have delayed the progress of the work. But now the mood is rising: there is paint everywhere, this time to Latino rhythms. Final sprint. The ship is supposed to go into the water the day after tomorrow. However, I’ll miss the party: Since the corona numbers are increasing all over Europe, my relatives in Switzerland would not understand if I extended my stay. So I’m on my way home. But the feeling says: It doesn’t have to be the last time.

Not under command under control (by captain Anne-Flore)

Wonderful progress towards west yesterday.

The front is passing now with rain and the wind died. We brailed up the main and braced square. It is the trimming for waiting for any kind of wind. The ship is heading north but drifts east. We can only try to drift slower what we don’t want now by “steering” a certain way.
Not under command, patience is the religion here. We don’t choose, so we wait. We try not to complain because we know that it is going to influence the mood of everyone.
And what are 300 miles? (till Den Helder) It is just 2 days with a fair wind, which I know will come.

On Sunday, we take a break from jobs and maintenance. According to such absent breeze, I gave a box of table games for the crew to play in the galley.
Also, we know that our colleagues from Avontuur went sailing around Scotland and soon they will show up in the North sea maybe crossing our path before going home.

Anne-Flore

Tres Hombres blog: That Leaving Feeling

I caught it again this year, as we slipped our mooring in Willemsoord, Den Helder, and headed out for Den Helder lock and the open sea; that leaving feeling. It must be similar to what seafarers felt in the old days, pre-globalization and pre-internet, when leaving for an eight month’s voyage meant likely no news from home for the whole trip, no contact with the familiar ways and people and places. It’s like the wind over the ocean, that feeling, bracing and exhilerating and a little bit frightening. Awe-inspiring. It’s knowing that you don’t know what’s about to happen, but knowing that you’ll do your best to face it bravely. It’s like the moment before you jump from a high place into water. You take your courage as you find it and leap with all your heart, because a half-hearted leap is only a stumble.

Unlike those old sailors, I will have news from my friends and family for the next eight months, I will exchange emails and pictures and phone calls, keep up with what’s going on in my hometown, what changes and what remains the same. But I have cast off my lines from my land life, and headed out into the unknown, under bright stars and sun, through foggy days and rain-filled nights. I go with my whole heart, I hope, and all my courage, and whatever new horizon tomorrow brings I will keep my eyes as open as I can to see it. The lines are off. The ship is free. Who can say what will happen next?

Elisabeth, deckhand

Sail along with the Tres Hombres from rum destination to rum destination. Taste the delicious Tres Hombres Rum before it arrives in Europe next summer. 
Cross the ocean and enjoy the wildlife of the Atlantic Ocean. 
Jump into this great adventure … a once in a lifetime experience!
Sign on: 16th of December in Santa Cruz de la Palma to Barbados, 2460nm. Only two spots available for the quick decision makers.
For more info: http://fairtransport.eu/sail-along/ or email booking@fairtransport.nl

Update Tres Hombres Refit

Till now we took down the main mast, we cut a big hole in the deck to remove the tanks in the officers/ library compartment. We dismantled the chartroom, the lazarette storage, the bosuns locker, the captains cabin, the library and the officers cabins, the dry store, the forepeak and some of the f’ocsle. There is also a nicely organised workshop container!
We also treated the whole hull from the insideand needle scaled all frames from the library aft.
Tomorrow we will start painting them. The tanks in the library are being rebuild and the black water tank modified.
The main mast chainplates are removed and some of the frames underneath replaced.
Outside we are changing around 20 planks and a third of the ship is already recaulked.
This is only possible because of our amazing volunteers from all over the world. I think the one travelled furthest is our Mexican dentist! Anyways, no differences made – literally everybody is doing all they can do and they invest all their energy in this lovely barge. Thank you!!

If you want to learn something new, if you want to improve your skills, if you have been a caulking mallet yourself for years, if you are any type of crafts(wo)man, if you are eager to help and knock a heavy mallet on your already sore knuckles, posh things up or play the flute to keep the spirits up or if you “just” want to help in Den Helder, Netherlands – please contact crew@fairtransport.nl Learn more: http://fairtransport.eu/tres-hombres-refit-2018-come-and-join/

Tres Hombres blog: The thousands and one sounds of the ship

My watch mates are resting quietly around me in the darkness of the focastle. The thousands and one sounds of
the ship, the Bosun tools noises, the salty sailors boots heavy steps running on the foredeck, the yelling of the maneuvers (an hard-core symphony which might have sounded creepy or disturbing in the beginning of the trip but now incredibly familiar), together with the glassy waters knocking at the hull close to my ears compose a lullaby, the melody of an old hand-and-heart-made boat that has its own soul and spirit, that breaths as a living creature, that speaks, whispers, cry and shout, at its own way, in its own language.
The red light of my headlamp, which is restricted on deck by the Captain in order to get our eyes sharper and able to see even in the darkest moonless night, brights my bunk and these pages, making me feel alone somehow, if “alone” is a word with a meaning on board of a sailing cargo ship of walkable 25mt shared with 15 sailors. Being alone is a luxury of the land, and personally my biggest saudade on board. So I grab this precious moment and surf this intimate wave of sharing with you some impressions of this whole voyage, now that it is almost over. Yes, almost. Because on an engineless sailing vessel it is hard, pointless, counterproductive and even dangerous to tell such things.
Even if the betting already started nobody can predict with certitude when we will fold the sails, step on the quay, open a fresh beer and looking back at Her saying to ouselves “it is over”. Everything can be, everything can change. You never know. You cannot know. You can do your best, but still it is not you to decide.
The old chinese proverb “if you want to make Gods laughs, tell them about your plans” is truer than ever here and finds its perfect demonstration on the Tres Hombres. The ship and the elements are fully owner of our destinies. Isnt that epic great? So we are almost there and it is time for my watch to begin, lets see what it will be.

The summer trip seems to be a different experience to the way longer transatlantic crossing, but still it is something, especially for some brand new fresh sailors as most of us.
We crossed (without particularly fair winds and currents) the English Channel twice in less than a month, the damned tricky unreliable English Channel with its unpredictable winds and its scaring intense cargo monsters traffic. This has its sailing, nautical but also emotional consequences, repercussion on moods and dynamics, on deck or down in the bunks, as well as inside and outside yourself. This can mean for example that when there is no wind and you feel stuck and bored, kind of useless with no ropes to pull, you can easily get also stuck into a quarrel between peanut butter maniacs and chocolate paste lovers, which it is not such an important either interesting issue, if you know what I mean. The presence or absence of the wind, being anchored in the middle of the Channel unable to move, drifted away or backwards by the currents, the stillness of the wait, all very very tricky elements, and you have to learn how to take care of them. It is therefore very important to keep yourself busy, at least for me it is a strategy that helped a lot. Go to Bosun asking for tasks, take care of the ship to show your love and respect to her, hoping that he will send you up in the riggings, maybe to oil the leather around the shrouds, and there hidden by the sail in the silence of the sky you can listen to your heart beat so loud, making all the other voices quiet, finally.

Sitting on the galley roof staring at the tanks which seem to have released all their petrol cargo on the surface of the sea, so quiet and oily as it looks, witnessing one of the dirtiest fact of our society, a secret hidden in the oceans were every day thousands of thousands of thousands of metal monsters,spitting stinky gases and smokes, whose bellies are filled with a pure foie-gras style with all kinds of evil goods and cheap shit for all kinds of pockets, coming and going from and to all kinds of places, all kinds of materials, colors, shapes, flavours… it seems like we need it, it looks like we desperately need it considering the speed they travel in order to deliver their cargo on the other side of a planet. But do we? Really? What for? And Why? (ps. WHY NOT IS NOT AN ALLOWED FUNNY ANSWER). Are we able to reconsider completely, till the roots, our consumption? Am I?
How many questions, new and old ones, melting together in the messy pot of your mind…and from the outside they sneak into the inside and all the little things and details and events of just a single watch can be strong heartquakes, especially if you are an hopeless empathic sensitive human as I am or used to be? A huge refit of myself started, the one that was waiting for some time now but on land you know… there are lots of ways to postpone it, not to say avoid it. On board of the Tres Hombres, there is no escape from yourself. Your ego will try to trick and tease you but if you accept the challenge and the pain that eventually comes with, you can live a very blow-minding experience. Tolerance, acceptance, adaptation, self confidence and self questioning, the discover of the potentiality of your body, the power of the trust or distrust, in yourself and in the others, the strenght that turns into weakness and reverse, your certitudes upside down… and then the wind starts to blow again and somehow you get through it and you survive your own self while pulling ropes or adding extras crazy sails. or sliding the stunsail boom under the yard inside after having gybed it for the first time believing you cannot do that without making some bullshit… but your beloved one right next to you believes in you, so why wouldnt you?…And you just do it.

I wont go deeper into details, the salty sailors who are reading these lines will probably remember, recognize,understand or at least know what the hell I am talking about and some words could eventually recall some old memories of their very first waves, and the curious followers of the adventures of this ship and her crew are warmly invited to step closer and taste the salt of our personal challenges and mission while we are also sailing cargo pushed only by the winds. The harder the environment, the greater the lesson!
We all have our own hells and heavens, our skeletons and untied knots, dreams and nightmares, and there is nothing more interesting and that will make you feel so connected with yourself, with all the dark and shiny shades of this self, than sailing here. So personally I feel blessed and I am truly thankful to have the opportunity to face this me and eventually, hopefully, grow stronger and be a better being. I promise to myself not to give up on this quest as well as on understanding how this sailing masterpiece and the elements work together and bring us from A to B emission free. Who knows, maybe my path will keep me here for a little more if life will decide I deserve some more of this magic, or somewhere else seeking the same beautiful thrills that made me feel so alive, the learning crashed, the painful downs and unforgettable ups.

I want to thank all the crew, for the good and for the bad, I learned something very important from each of you. And a special one to our Captain, a humble guy who is a pure wild sailing living legend, ready to everything, unpredictable as the winds he loves, who opened up the arms of his knowledge and experience with patience and respect, smartness and balance, it is a true honor to pull the same rope, execute his orders, listening to the explanations of maneuvers, the afternoon lectures or the sunset readings, the generosity to welcome us on board and share his floating home with us, unknown strangers. I have a long list of memories and moments to be grateful for but I will keep it for me.
You are all free to write your own joining this outstanding project to improve yourself and the world living a true life changing adventure.

“We have been longing to see it even if it was missing, but the treasure is there, for sure. Hidden by trickster demons and lost in the labyrinths of our questions and answers” Corto Maltese

Giulia