to begin.


as wicked storms rolled into spring park bay tyler, mike and i would plop a 6 ft sunfish into the angry, angry waters. our knowledge of sailing was nonexistent, and our ignorance made us fearless. 3 high school kids were beyond capacity for this mighty boat. and when the gale force winds got the better of our overzealous heeling, we'd capsize.

stretch, stretch to save our fallen crewman, scramble on the belly of the boat, and then heave all our weight on the keel to flip the beast back over.

soaked and with furious gray clouds above, we sailed onward, only to repeat this joyful turmoil.

ooh the beginning.

the answer to a legit experience on the ocean sea comes from a 35 ft ketch named cappella. she's on her way home to sweden. as of 2.17.11 mats, the 45 yr. old captain, is awaiting my arrival in st. vincent & the grenadines.

the following gnarnia is an attempt to document the journey from the southern caribbean and beyond.

i am no writer, i've never sailed in salt water, i haven't journaled in years, i have no idea what to do when i return home…but…i just bought my first pair of shorts in like 10 years…so…

these entires are meant for myself and anyone remotely interested.

this is.

The Valinor Collective

Saturday, March 5, 2011


so, apparently it raises red flags when a young american dood flys to st. vincent on a one way ticket.

these red flags were neglected to be brought to my attention when i left the u.s. not until i was several miles from home, on an island in the caribbean sea, sleep deprived and with a wicked cold was it pleasantly brought to my attention. at 4:30 in the morning on the 1st of march, i tried to board my flight from barbados to st. vincent but was denied access. only after some scuffle and working with 'officials' did they offer me the option of purchasing a 'faux' ticket home for a date that i entirely made up. i mised my initial flight due to the unforseen drama. they put me on the next one. arrived in st. vincent, over paid for a taxi and tipped the broha. at the time i knew nothing of caribbean customs. in hindsight, i now understand his dumbfoundedness. hopped the ferry leaving for bequia, the dood cut me some slack when i was 3 dollars short. he recieved a high five in exchange.

we rounded the point and made our way into this tiny island bay. it was littlered with mid sized sailboats from around the world, and docked at the back of the bay was this gnarly opulent yacht. a short, stout swede with skin that shows he's been at this lifestyle for the past year and a half., was awiting my arrival. we exchanged smiles and a handshake and he led me to his dinghy. there was no apprehension, no butterflies and no apparent fear leading up to this moment. just this is what is happening and so it goes.

bequia (bek-way), thrives on tourism. often locals are found laying underneath a tree in the shade, standing around a broken boat or playing dominos near the water. it's the ultimate chill sesh bru. then when put behind the wheel they turn into a 17 yr old asian, fast and the furious honda owner.

coming on day 6 here in port elizabeth, living aboard capella is becoming normal. either her cramped quarters are starting to acclamate to my 6'2"ness or it's the other way around. our days are at the mercy of the sun. waking up and going to sleep in near tandum. when not hiking around the island or reading on the boat i'm picking mats brain about everything sailing. oh how i will to sail around the world. the seed is planted.

until my hot pics get developed, google images will have to suffice.

off to st. lucia on monday.

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