Steve's Farewell

It's dawn here in Santa Cruz, the dawn of my fifty-eighth and final day as crew of Ellida. Let her name sit alongside the Endeavour, the Endurance, the Sea of Cortez, the Dawntreader and even the Bounty, for in our own small way we on board Ellida have experienced a little of what the crews of these legendary ships have.

We've felt the rush of arriving in new lands, endured a few minor hardships and deprivations, had great mateship and wonder of the sea around us, been enchanted, and even staged a mutiny ("We demand a swim. Right now!") Our trip means nothing to the universe but for us on board, it's an exclusive, all-consuming world, requiring attention to detail, forbearance and for each to play his part to the best of our ability.

Pulling into a new place by boat bears no comparison to doing so by plane. No "Passengers from rows 32 to 64, please embark by the rear door.", no baggage carousels, no boom gate in the carpark. You approach the land slowly, the dock even more so ("Come to the dock at the speed you'd like to hit it" says Rob every time.) You step ashore and Hey Presto! you're in Curacao. People are genuinely impressed. "You sailed here?? Wow, that is so cool." And you wobble off up the main street trying to regain some land-legs, drooling at the cafes, agog at the sight of a pizza, envious of a child with an ice-cream.

And what of the Ralph Lauren/Tommy Hifiger/DKNY stores that occupy the box seat in most ports? We scoff at them, for we, barefoot in our grimy shorts, have been kings in crested castles, to paraphrase Patsy Durack. And what the hell is DKNY anyway?

And what sort of magic is it to sit alone in the cockpit at two in the morning, the moonless sky ablaze with stars, the sea on fire with phosphorescence, ten thousand feet of black water below you? Crawl to the stern and peer into the abyss, but beware, oblivion is only a slip away. No, back to the cockpit, make chai, hasten the dawn!

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Marcel, you nomad, you are as well adapted to life at sea as the prion. Thanks for the sailing lessons, the French lessons, the Spanish lessons, for great times at sea and hilarious fun ashore. Cayocho Carnival in Santa Cruz, oh hombre, what a crazy night.

Rob, in another world, they say two things are certain, but here, the eternals are chilli and coffee. It's always been my dream to take a sea voyage; you've provided the opportunity and done so in great style. I'll be forever grateful. Above all thanks for 3000 miles of great physical and metaphysical travel. The world will never look quite the same again because these are no longer the eyes that left Tasmania a few months ago.

Now, the sun is up on another perfect morning in Galapagos. Sails are unfurling, the little harbour is coming to life and the smell of coffee is in the air. All that remains for me is to load my bag full of belongings and a treasure trove of booty for those at home, say goodbye to the big red boat, and take that final trip in the dinghy ashore. So I wish safe and speedy travel to Rob, Marcel and Ellida - tight sails, as my son says.

See you in Hobart.