SO? What does this all mean for Pablo and its crew and where do we stand today?
I opened a lot of boxes. Got tangled in a few rabbit holes and chose to jump over many more. By the time we’ll splash back, we’ll have hopefully addressed a whole lot of issues and fixed a few more “since we’re at it”:
What happened you say? Did the bad surprises stopped, or Pablo is still rolling out punch after punch at me while my bank account self-immolated?
So how this 1 month plan turned out? Well, spoiler alert; we’re still sitting on the hard, 5 months later. So what happened? What’s going on in that mystical time-sucking-black-hole that people call boatyard? How can a 3 weeks plan turn into a 5 months odyssey? I’m not sure. Maybe you can tell me. Here is what happened:
“Pablo was such in bad shape?” was the first comment I read this morning over a facebook post @saltymatey. While sipping my coffee, I realized that the answer needed a bit of context. The only way to explain how we ended up kicking up 2021 in a boat yard required me to do what I dredged for a long time; I needed to write a new blog post!
One of the recurring question we get when we’re talking about being in passage – that is sailing more than 24 hours without stopping – is exactly that: how do we stop? Surely, there must be something clever that allows us to stop the boat at night.
The school refers to everything that takes place in a more academic form – sitting, pen and papers, teacher and boards. The rest is what we call unschooling. However, it does not mean it is effortless for the parents. Quite the contrary, to include unschooling on a day to day basis requires research and dedication of time. Here is what is part of her unschooling.
I am not a teacher, but I am homeschooling Salty.
Here’s the full school program:
7 days a week, from roughly 7h30 to 8h30 – with my morning coffee.
“Do we need that?”
We had just sold the house and there was no turning back: we would really buy a boat and go out there. We would actually do it! The “Do we need that” question started popping in every conversation.
“One day Cass, we’ll have a dry boat”, I say when going down inside Sputnik. That was 8 years ago, and I was yet again welcomed by pools of water over the floor. A mix of rain water coming from the mast, condensation from the cold weather in Quebec and millions of undiscovered leaks. I was set to have a dry boat. A boat without water in the bilge. Which isn’t a small feat, given the fact that Sputnik was 27 years old. And that it was, you know, a boat.
Today minus 10 days : “We will cross the Pacific soon!!! So excited by all that! Coronavirus? Yes, yes, but there are no cases in Panama, and none in French Polynesia too. It is very sad, but at least we’re in security here.”
