Cruising with Guests
Article of the Month May 2008Challenging and chaotic? Yes. Worth it? Definitely!
“SAM! WAKE UP!”
My husband Sam and I slowly roll over in a comatose state, nestled in our cozy v-berth.
“Sam! Wake up! They’ve boarded our boat!” Attempts to block out the intrusive noise are made before realizing that we aren’t dreaming; disturbing the silence, even before the roosters, is one of our guests who is in fact frantically calling to us like a child convinced there is a monster in her closet.
“Sam! The officials have boarded Moana and want to see your paperwork!”
With the words “officials,” “boarded” and “paperwork” the fog quickly fades from his head and Sam all but falls out of the berth as he shoots up the stairs to the cockpit. I hear the sound of his feet shuffling across our deck but am too tired to respond or be frightened.
A few days earlier my sister Janet and friend Traci had met up with us in Fiji for a taste of the cruising life. Aboard our Downeast 32-foot cutter Janet is sleeping on the starboard settee while Traci occupies what has been made into a playpen out of the dinette. The next thing I know Traci is apologizing. “I was sleep-walking. There’s no one on the boat.” And so begins a cruising season of guests aboard Moana.
Arriving in Fiji we had three rounds of visitors scheduled over a period of six weeks. All were excited about staying aboard Moana for their entire visit. Stays ranged from eight to ten days and two of the three visits would include two guests, a first for Moana. As fellow cruisers (all of whom, by the way, had longer water lines, multiple sleeping quarters, bigger dinghy outboards, watermakers and electric windlasses) learned about our plans, their responses ranged from “brave” to “stupid” to “crazy.” Sometimes all three words were used to describe us.
With some prior experience of having guests aboard, combined with all of the nightmarish tales passing around the cruising community, we attempted to stifle any potential problems ahead of time in order to make floating Hotel Moana the best experience for all involved. Months in advance I composed a letter outlining (sometimes warning) future visitors of what they could expect while traveling aboard a small sailing vessel. This letter outlined what Moana is not. She is not a pristine Four Seasons Hotel. She is not an all-inclusive Club Med vacation. Nor is she the Royal Caribbean providing fast and motionless passages with limitless food and entertainment. The same disclaimer was made for us, the hosts. We are not tour guides, taxi drivers or the infamous genie in a bottle granting three magic wishes. We cannot control the weather and thus are not responsible for strong winds, heavy rains or lumpy seas. We warned them of our limited energy and water supply. We emphasized the limited space aboard and the need to pack light. We advised on best clothing for the tropics including towels, bedding and shoes. Now this all may have seemed a bit extreme but we figured it was better for them to expect less and experience more. What we could promise included ocean view accommodations in tropical surroundings for a great price, free! 
ROUND ONE
Our first guests were due three weeks after our own arrival to Fiji and despite much boat work done prior to leaving New Zealand, significant time was spent doing additional boat repairs after a difficult passage. We planned to meet up with Janet and Traci at the airport, which forced us to power into the wind in conditions we would normally opt to wait out in a protected anchorage. After an energized reunion the adventure began with visiting Nadi, an authentic tourist trap of a city. Hours were spent souvenir shopping followed by lunch at a restaurant that proved to be the most expensive meal we consumed during our four month stay in Fiji. We then hired a taxi, in lieu of a bus, to take us to Lautoka where Moana awaited. We then walked into town to provision so we could head to the islands the following morning. By evening the cabin floor and dinette table were piled with provisions and I was hastily washing all of our fruits and veggies. Soaking in sweat, Sam was lugging five-gallon water jugs on deck and pouring them into our two water tanks, making sure every drop of the 93 gallons was in the tank to accommodate our two additional guests. We then went over the boat, explaining all of the ins and outs of living aboard…or so we thought. Sharing in a glass of wine, imported from the central coast of California, had a calming effect on us all and we sat back, ready to enjoy the ride of the coming 10 days.
The following morning, heeding the call of the distant islands, I went forward to wrestle with our manual windlass. As it was, a boat had anchored uncomfortably close to us (yes, even some who have crossed oceans still have not learned how to anchor) and with winds of 25 knots, bringing up the anchor got quite hairy. Sam had the engine in gear while I fought with the chain off the bow. Coming less than half a boat length from the other vessel, I was relieved as I walked back to the cockpit, anchor secure, huffing and puffing. Janet was comfortably relaxing in the cockpit and Traci was nowhere to be seen. When I inquired as to her whereabouts Janet informed me, “She’s down below giving herself a pedicure!”
We quickly discovered that life takes on a form all its own with visitors. Our approach to life was pushed from “How little can we get by with doing today?” to “How much can we cram into one day?” Each meal became a huge production. There was however the benefit of breaks from the galley and wonderful meals prepared for us. With two single and attractive women aboard, we figured we’d have down time to ourselves in the evenings while they went in search of members of the opposite sex. Instead, they were exhausted in the evenings and always the first to fall asleep! Thus, Sam and I literally had two moments to ourselves during the 10 days: one short walk to the showers and a quick dinghy ride out to Moana to pick up items for a barbeque. And how were the days spent, you might ask? I have one word: shopping. Whether we were in the city, near a resort or taking a walk along the beach with a village nearby, eyes were always searching for those perfect souvenirs. As the locals spotted our guests, dollar signs registered in their eyes. In the end, though they had brought copious amounts of provisions for us, they actually left with more than they came with, fearing they may exceed their weight allowance for the flight.
As Janet and Traci parted from Musket Cove aboard the Malolo Cat, we were already preparing for the arrival of our next guests in less than two weeks. The fridge top, dropped from mid-air too many times, had to be mended with epoxy. The head door required adjusting as a result of endless use. Additional laundry had to be washed by hand. Water, diesel, gas and propane tanks needed replenishing.
ROUND TWO
Our next guests, though never long-term cruisers, had sailed to Catalina multiple times and had some understanding of life aboard a sailboat. Mike and Janelle looked forward to the adventure of hunting us down, wherever we may be. They looked at it as an “Amazing Race” challenge of sorts. To their disappointment, weather kept us from heading east and so we opted to meet them too, on the west side of the main island of Viti Levu. Their expedition amounted to grabbing a taxi from the airport and riding a few miles to Port Denarau where we awaited them.
Thanks to our guinea pig guests (sorry Janet and Traci) Mike and Janelle were warned to bring pants, long-sleeved shirts and wetsuits. It was an unusually cold season in Fiji with lots of wind, rain and uninviting water temperatures. Our orientation aboard Moana now emphasized the need to gently lower the lid on the icebox. In addition we instituted three new rules. The first was that anytime someone went to the foredeck it meant, “Do Not Disturb.” This way some semblance of personal space could be obtained within a confined space. This rule had one stipulation: should dolphins appear at the bow, personal space was negated. The second rule was that each couple should have at least one afternoon or evening to themselves. And third, our guests needed to prioritize on day one what they wanted to do while aboard Moana. This gave us a good idea of expectations and how to plan our time together.
From the time they arrived aboard Moana, Mike and Janelle wanted to experience all aspects of cruising, both work and play. Thus they took it upon themselves to be in charge of anchor duty, which required regularly bringing up 250 feet of chain using our manual windlass. Mike insisted on sitting at the wheel for hours, grinning ear to ear, as he steered us to our next anchorage. What a treat for Sam and me to relax, talk and read while someone else sat at the wheel. As payback for their hard work they were blessed with some awesome weather for sailing, snorkeling and visiting remote, ideal anchorages. Catching a tuna within minutes of the first time he fed the line out, Mike inspired Sam to start fishing again. Walking the perfectly white, sandy beaches of a deserted anchorage, snorkeling over flourishing coral, star-gazing and card playing at night, we discovered a paradise we will never forget.
ROUND THREE
Soon after Mike and Janelle left our final guest arrived. A Southern California Girl to the bone, Laurel waved her designer cowboy hat to get my attention as she approached. We were apparently very out of fashion donning our practical, quick-dry hats, which provided protection from the sun and wind. As we unloaded Laurel and her luggage from the dinghy, we were shockingly surprised to discover that her make-up, blow dryer and many designer clothes were replaced by some of our favorite munchies; foods that are impossible to find in this part of the world. These items would be saved for long passages as we made our way north. I stowed away as many as I could, tucking them in next to the valuables previously delivered.
Laurel quickly discovered that within one hour of her arrival to Fiji she had been conned. Being told that Americans are the best tippers, she felt obliged to give a cabbie a $15 tip on top of her $25 cab ride. Mind you, tipping is not part of the Fijian culture. The entire ride should have cost her $15.
After situating her things, we headed into town to provision. The only problem was that catching a bus required patience. Laurel was used to just hopping into her own car anytime she needed to go anywhere; this waiting along the road for a bus to chug along, showing up randomly, was completely foreign to her. The next thing we knew she was hailing a cab. After provisioning in town, which of course included armfuls of souvenirs, we returned to Moana and prepared the boat for a passage east.
We planned to make several stops along the way to Suva so Laurel wouldn’t have to do an overnight passage. This would also allow her to experience a variety of anchorages. With little wind to speak of, we had to motorsail much of the way. Laurel spent some time up talking with us but if it was too hot, too cold or rainy, she hunkered down below.
Eventually we arrived at a dream anchorage of crystal clear, flat water, with first-class snorkeling just a swim away. This idyllic anchorage turned sour overnight. We were awoken to Moana rolling harshly side to side. Shifting winds increased to 30-plus knots and buckets of water showered down on us. Situated in a life-size washing machine, Laurel and I determined to go ashore. I hopped over the railing and into the dinghy with ease. Sam and I together tried to help Laurel dismount safely from the deck of Moana. We forgot to mention the trick of waiting until the boat dips and the dinghy rises thus providing the shortest step. Instead she waited until the boat was at its highest point and ended up bouncing off of Moana and landing hard into the dinghy almost six feet below. By the time we got ashore, she had a huge welt on her leg. Quickly realizing from shore that Moana needed to be re-anchored and confirming that the lone, rustic “hotel” ashore was open to take my soggy friend in, I headed back to the dinghy. In an effort to help, Laurel followed behind and pushed me out into the swell. In doing so, she fell flat on her face into the bitter, choppy water.
Our final anchorage before Suva provided better boat protection but there was no escaping Murphy’s Law. Coming out of the head with pump handle in hand, Laurel exclaimed, “It’s broken.” Sam nonchalantly responded, “Just put it back on and pump.” Within a nanosecond of her reentering the head, Sam yelled, “Don’t touch anything!” It was too late. Laurel had shoved the handle downward causing the shaft to go inside the head, which necessitated taking it entirely apart. Exasperated after a difficult two days, Sam spent the next couple hours mumbling to himself as he performed head surgery. 
ALONE AGAIN
Six days after leaving the west end of Fiji we arrived in Suva. Laurel arranged for a cab to take her the four-hour drive to the airport. Ignoring Sam’s advice, she didn’t negotiate a fare in advance. When the cabbie arrived he quoted her a price of $130! She loaded up her luggage and hopped in the back seat, apparently quite anxious to leave. (I’m sure the fact that the Suva Prison is located across the street from the Royal Suva Yacht Club had something to do with it!).
Dazedly making our way back to Moana we both took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. All of this time preparing for and expectantly awaiting the arrival of our guests had come and gone in a blink of an eye. After all the drama over the past six weeks we asked ourselves, “Was it worth it?” Without reservation we responded, “Absolutely!” True, there were many challenges involved with having guests. We had to forego our privacy and our free lifestyle. We left places early, beating ourselves up as we tried to meet up with guests. At other times, we stayed in places longer than desired because weather windows didn’t cooperate with flight schedules. We had things to repair or replace and our monthly expenditures increased considerably.
On the other hand, we had endless hours of entertainment as we observed our landlubber friends adjust to life on a boat. We got to experience the excitement in their eyes as they discovered for the first time Fiji’s underwater world, the soothing sound of a boat under sail, the silence commanded by a breathless sunset and the illumination of the Southern Cross in the nighttime sky. We also experienced many long-lasting benefits. I learned new tricks for zesting up foods that had become boring repeats aboard Moana. My stash of provisions multiplied with the best snacks and ingredients for meals we craved from the States. We, as well as other cruisers, benefited from new reading material in the form of books and magazines. All of our guests were generous beyond words. And by far, the best part about having guests aboard was the relationships that were nurtured. Our friends were able to experience and appreciate a piece of our lives that is foreign to most and hard for us to convey through words alone. Memories were created that will forever be imbedded in our minds. And the bonds of friendship were brought to an entirely new level. Yes, cruising with guests is exhausting but the benefits last a lifetime.
