Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
One evening, as we made our way ashore and were walking down the road to a restaurant
bar and local watering hole, a pretty girl called out to Herman and giggled loudly as she
fled around the corner. He was naturally thrilled by this incident and would later meet her
at the bar. They would have a whirlwind romance that lasted all but a week. At the bar, we
met some of the sailors we had known from South Africa and had a great time describing
our voyage across from home. For most, it too was their first time, and they were very ex-
cited about their first crossing. There were some that had done this journey several times,
and to them it was just another trip. We would come across familiar boats and crew on sev-
eral of the islands on the way down the “milk run” as it was called.
We had spent about a week on St. Helena and had filled the boat's tanks with water and
bought provisions and supplies which were equally paid for by the three of us. We had
hiked about, taking in the sights and places of interest on the island, and had met a number
of new friends. Something that we had noticed caused us to debate hotly with our fellow
sailors. It was the local custom to display in public a poster of all convicted criminals and
details of their crimes, regardless of how trivial they were. Some thought it unnecessary,
while there were those who thought it a good idea. I know there is an experiment with this
method now in South Africa due to her very high crime statistics; only time will tell if it
will work there.
We had seen breath-taking sights of the ocean from the winding, hair-pin road that snaked
its way up the mountain and had climbed the hundred and four steps up to the light-house
beacon on top of a windy hill. Paula and I reached a sweet point in our new relationship
and would hold hands while walking around town, spending time alone on the deck in the
evening in the yellow candle-light. The lad would take the dinghy back ashore and visit his
new friends down at Rose's Tavern.
Boats began to clear out to the metallic sound of anchors and chains being hauled aboard
as they were sluiced off with buckets of seawater and stowed in their holds. Sails were bent
on and hauled up, and soon boats became dots on the horizon. I was anxious to set sail
as well. There was nothing left to see here and a whole, new world waited for us over the
horizon. One of the wonderful aspects of cruising was being able to up anchor and set off
to wherever there was good weather and another port of call. There would be more sights
to see, friends to meet again, fun evenings and good sailing on a sweet, stout, home built
dream boat.
After the necessary paperwork was completed, we rowed out for the last time, hauled up
and lashed the dinghy on top of the cabin roof, shipped the anchor aboard, and set sail
northwards towards Ascension Island. The plan was to sail past it but not to put in to port
as it apparently had nothing of interest as it was just a heap of volcanic cinders with a
small population. I have since read some fascinating history of Ascension Island by the
