Why Not To Be a Modern Hermit <wink, wink>
[10:20] [Tuesday, April 03, 2007]
When we started this voyage, we had heard a little about buddy boating, but considering we had a crew of 4, we didn't give trying to find another vessel to travel with much thought. The only vessel in the area we really knew about was Lyric, whose crew had already taken her to the Rio, our furthest destination. Who needs chatty neighbors, anyway, when we've got our own company and enough spunk to talk to the locals who happen to be sitting at the same bar?
Our own company soon dwindled to two people, however, and 31 feet is a very small space in which to deal with each other's good and bad days. We are true-blue cruisers, and while life on the hook has its perks, being stuck in the same anchorage for more than a couple days becomes a quick recipe for very bad days. We have been through some rough moments, but as we learn to adjust our outlooks and truly communicate -- you cannot hide anything from someone who is only ever 15 feet away from you at best -- we find those moments don't seem quite as rough as they used to.
Another thing we notice, though, is how hard it is just to be chatty with locals sitting at the same bar. Brady has said plenty of times his general feeling of security is much, much different now than the last time he visited Belize. Sol Searcher is our home, not someone else's "problem" and his ticket to paradise ... That, coupled with the changing atmosphere of Belize and the surrounding area, contribute to a feeling of alienation that can be exhilirating, sure -- but being an outsider leaves one exceptionally vulnerable.
Enter buddy boating. The bulk of the idea is to stay close to other cruisers, because we're all in the same boat (so to speak) and will watch out for each other. I think a larger part of buddy boating is about really BEING a buddy for the cruisers and vessels you take up with, though. When the shit hits the fan, having along another boat whose crew will help you through it beats by a mile getting caught up in those dirty fanblades alone.
Though it did take us a little bit to really get the hang of traveling in a pack. The first night we actually set out on a cruise with two other boats -- Sonatina and Samcharsa -- we flipped our VHF off right before going to bed. We figured if there happened to be any stray traffic on the radio, we did not particularly want to listen to it until we woke up in the morning.
That night, however, some very loud noises interrupted the peaceful quiet of our remote anchorage. Whip-like cracks broke the night in quick succession, and the ladies on Sonatina/Samcharsa began to speculate about just how dangerous those cracks might be ... Were they gunshots? Who would be firing such a large weapon in the middle of the jungle? What would such a person be firing at?
We didn't hear a thing, cuddled up in air conditioned bliss, the AC compressor and generator both drowning out any outside noises.
By the time our buddy boats realized the noises originated from the paddles of several cayuco fishermen, slamming the water in an attempt to scare the fish into their nets, they also realized one such cayuco approaching our boat. They hailed us on the VHF; they whistled from their cockpits; Sonatina even employed a toy karaoke microphone (an excellent non-electric amplifier, BTW) ...
And we heard nothing.
Fortunately for us, no mischief was afoot. We decided from that point on we could deal with a little stray radio traffic in the wee hours, though!
As we both become more familiar with what sounds and movements are proper and which aren't in the middle of the night -- the boat and her rigging creak like an old house, and she rocks pretty steady most nights -- we become better security for our buddy boats, too. Not just listening for alarm from the boats we anchor with, but listening also for things we may have to raise the alarm about.
It all comes down to mutual back-scratching. We have been particularly lucky in that our buddy boats have all shared the same fun-loving attitude we do, which means "being a buddy" doesn't just have to be about a dutiful loyalty to a particular set of vessels. It's also about having fun together, experiencing all there is to experience without suffering anxiety over your boat anchored all by its lonesome in a strange place.
Like I said, there is a certain exhiliration about being a foreigner. We have had very few instances where we've felt truly uncomfortable in the company of locals. In fact we rather enjoy getting to know the people in whose country we are making ourselves comfortable.
But there is a difference between having a good time with strangers who become friends and getting to know people who share the same anxieties, the same laughs, the same basic living arrangement as we do. Some days we feel like hermits, and we hole up on the boat either to be lazy or to get a few projects done. Some days we hang out at a local hotspot, shooting the shit with whoever happens to sit at the same table. And lately, we've truly enjoyed sharing the company of fellow cruisers who, through good times, strange times and rough weather, we've begun to consider good friends.
It doesn't matter where you are or what you do -- having good friends around makes life a little easier.
