A Little Boat Named "Silent Night"

Ever since I was a small boy I have been fascinated with boats and sailing. Can't explain why. Just something about being on the open water. This past summer I took a three day course and received my Keel boat certification. Ever since then I have tried my best to be on a boat but that's not why I sailed on the Whitsunday Islands. I did it because everyone else told me to. Do I always do what everyone else tells me to? No. But they used the word "sail".... so naturally I said yes.

Sailing the Whitsunday Islands off the coast of eastern Australia is the other right of passage for those traveling up the east coast. It sort of goes hand in hand with Frasier Island. Once you do that you hop an over night bus and 10 hours north you are sailing some of the most amazing beach islands you have ever seen. There are many boats that you can choose. Many choose the big "party" boats because they just need yet another excuse to drink. I chose a more civilized route and landed on a little boat called "Silent Night". Also I was told you could help sail the bloody thing. Which in the end turned out to be a darn right lie. (helping raise the main sail does not qualify as helping to sail a 40 foot yacht). But you know me. I am all hands on.

Despite that rather small disappointment I really did have a good time. Let me put it into perspective for you. Put on some soft music and go to that special place. Sit back and close your eyes, do some narcotics or whatever puts you into a zen like state.

Imagine yourself getting on a big sail boat with 11 other like minded strangers. They are from all over the world. There is what your skipper Max calls Team Danish, Team Germany, Team Dutch, Team French, Team British, Team Aussie/British and Captain America (which being again the token American-you). You get a nice little cabin and you bunk with two very sassy Danish Girls (also affectionately called team infectious because of the colds they harbor) You get a deck hand to cook for you everyday. The only thing you have to do is get out bed and apply some sunscreen. You leave your cell phone and your computers and pretty much all contact with the rest of the world behind. You let the wind take this little boat to a protected cove on Hook Island were your deck hand provides a scrumptious dinner and you schmooze with your international counterparts over wine. That night you stay up late, sitting alone on the bow of the boat listening to your music looking up at the grandest stars you have ever seen. As the Southern Cross stares down upon you you realize in that moment you are having your first great Australian moment. And everything is simple. You realize quite simply that this is everything that you have always wanted. Some wind, good food and company, the night sky and a big boat to take you there. You could get used to this.

The next day you get up. Put on some more sunscreen and you sail the high sea to a beach called Whitehaven. On that beach is the purest whitest sand you have ever seen. Its so pure in fact that not to long ago NASA purchased 40,000 tons of it to create the lens for the Hubble Space Telescope. After an afternoon playing on that island beach you sail some more. This time the sea is angry and puts up a good fight. The boat heals (tips) tremendously but you and your British buddy Emma know its perfectly normal and you spend the sail riding the high side of the boat with wind and waves crashing into you-laughing all the way. That afternoon you anchor in a calm bay and snorkel some of the most amazing coral you have ever seen. You feed the fish and even an eagle that lives on the cliffs near by. You anchor in a far off cove and watch the absolute most amazing sunset you have ever seen. (pictured above). That night your deck hand cooks you an amazing lasagna dinner and both he and the skipper break out their guitars. You spend the rest of the evening singing songs and sipping port underneath the stars. All the while trying to ignore the other stupid drinking boat that has anchored not to far off your starboard side. You exchange great banter between your international shipmates, especially your Danish cabin mates.

The third day you awake to a calm warm rain and jump over board for a morning snorkel only to discover that the party boat in the middle the night had quietly motored over in their dingy to a neighboring boat and painted a scull and cross bones using Vegemite on their hull. You chuckle with amuzment. After a hard snorkel you clamor aboard for the return journey from the Whitsunday Islands to Arlie Beach were you spend the rest of your night in the local establishments with old friends from Frasier and new friends from the boat. You realize that you could quite your job, move all the way around the world and work on a boat the rest of your life. Doing this everyday.

Now. If you could skim the surface and slightly imagine something like that, then (and only perhaps then) you somewhat have a perspective of what my experience in the Whitsunday Islands is like.

Something else to imagine:

As an official cabin mate of the Danish I learned many things in my Whitsundays voyage. Including some of the wise sayings that have been passed down through the Denmark people over the centuries, including my favorite phrase of all time. In Danish it reads:

Maa Din Roev Kloe Og Dine Arme Vaere For Korte.

Which plainly translates to English as:

My your ass itch and your arms be to short.