Crossing the Line ... again!

We interrupt our regularly scheduled passage notes and the last of the St. Helena blogs to let you know we're nearing the Equator and will be crossing soon. With that in mind, read on about Crossing the Line. Crossing the Prime Meridian at longitude 0º for the third time was cool, but crossing the Equator, known by sailors as “crossing the line”, is always particularly special. That imaginary line encircling the globe and stretching some 25,000 miles (24,901 miles/ 40,075 km to be more exact) is cause for joy when you're in a boat. For us, it'll be the sixth time we've crossed the Equator. Nine of Cups will be heading back into the Northern Hemisphere after seven years in the Southern Hemisphere. She won't have to sail upside down any more and we can stop hanging by our toes.

We'll anxiously watch the GPS latitude change from S to N. We'll probably not celebrate with a big ceremony, but for sure we'll celebrate. David will toast Neptune with a tot of rum as is our tradition and we'll snap a few pictures at 0º latitude.

Sailors celebrate crossing the line in different ways. Friends on Nakia, dressed their cat, Ziggy, as King Neptune. I'm sure he enjoyed it immensely.

We thought we'd reminisce a bit and re-post a previous Crossing the Line Ceremony that we thought you might enjoy.

The first time we crossed the line, we celebrated in a rather lackluster manner, mostly because it was in the middle of the night. David was on watch. He woke me. He gave Neptune his token tot of rum. I snapped a photo at 0º latitude and went back to sleep. In truth, we had to cross a couple of times to get the exact 0.00º reading on the GPS. That was the extent of the excitement though. We were heading to Ecuador at the time, which in Spanish, by the way, actually translates to Equator.

When our friend, John, joined Nine of Cups as our crew mate and we sailed from Salinas, Ecuador to the Galapagos, we specifically went a few miles north out of the way to cross the Equator once again. This time we celebrated in earnest. If you've never crossed the equator, you're a slimy “pollywog”. Once having crossed and gone through the initiation ceremony aboard, you become a trusty “shellback” and member of King Neptune's Court. This nautical tradition dates back as early as the 1500s.

So what does the initiation ceremony entail? On naval ships, it's quite the elaborate the procedure. On Nine of Cups, we were a bit more reasonable. At least we thought so. First of all, Neptune received another tot of rum as we crossed the line. John had to make and serve us breakfast, name five “animals” on Nine of Cups (gooseneck, wildcat, etc), compose an appropriate song and sing it to us and kiss the belly (that would be Jelly's furry belly). Being the good sport he is, he complied without complaint. Good thing, because keel-hauling or walking the plank were the alternative choices! Read more on John's website. For all his efforts, he was rewarded with an official Crossing the Line Certificate … suitable for framing.

Eclectic St. Helena

As always, I end up taking lots of pictures that don't really fit into any particular blog post or story I tell, but I think they're interesting enough to share with you. See what I mean. St. Helena is sometimes called “the Galapagos of the South Atlantic”. It is home to over 500 endemic fauna species and 85 endemic flora, all evolved since the island's volcanic beginnings c.14 million years ago. We saw several species of birds, of which only the wirebird, is endemic.

We saw peaceful doves, pigeons (they're everywhere), pheasant, tropic birds, noddies and boobies. More species like sooty terns (wideawakes), petrels, shearwaters and gannets were seen offshore.

We couldn't find a dedicated bakery in Jamestown. Solomon's supermarket bakes bread daily and people wait in line for it to come out of the oven, just after 10am. Then, they wait in line to slice their bread on the automatic, do-it-yourself, bread slicer. I had to ask a local for instructions in order to get our bread sliced.

We began doing Internet at Anne's Place, a cruiser hangout, when there are cruisers visiting. We ended up doing Internet at The Consulate Hotel. The price was the same, but they offered free hot showers to cruisers, the cafe served good French press coffee and the garden area was a pleasant place to do Internet.

We met a fellow on the wharf who trained bio-security and search and rescue dogs. He had Poppy with him that particular day whose specialty was drugs. We were safe, we didn't have any. She was also a good ball fetcher and we played with her while chatting with Paul. When we headed down to catch the ferry, much to our surprise, she jumped aboard with us, and took a ride out to the boat. It took all our efforts to keep her from jumping aboard Cups with us.

Prickly pear grows wild on the island and the locals make a clear alcoholic spirit known as tungi (pronounced toon-gee) from it. We tried in vain to taste some without buying a whole bottle, but without any luck. It seems the best place to do a tasting was at the St. Helena Distillery (near Longwood), the most remote distillery in the world. We missed our chance. Darn!

Some days the anchorage was calm and serene, other days the wind and waves were up. Surge is a definite problem at the ferry dock, especially at high tide. We had to time our exit and entry from the ferry very carefully on high surge days.

Throughout the island, there are “gates”. White Gate, Red Gate, Longwood Gate and more. They're quite scenic and were traditionally used to contain pastured livestock.

Gnarly old thorn trees lined the road on the way to Diana's Peak and reminded us of some old fairy tale forest.

We spent lots of time on the island, but once back on Nine of Cups, we had a chance to relax. David used up some old lines to make some ocean plait rugs.

Last, but not least, the Jamestown Gut viewed from the top of Ladder Hill. The local word “gut” means valley in Saint lingo.

Just one more St. Helena blog to go and then we'll move on. Stay tuned for “Then and Now”, our view of how things have changed since our last visit in 2007.

Days with Saints

We met Gilbert, Joan and Juliana back in 2007 when we first visited St. Helena Island. Gilbert worked for Cable & Wireless and was a communications officer,  “the voice of the South Atlantic”. We met him first via radio and then when we arrived, he provided a warm welcome and a tour of the island. We've stayed in touch over the years and renewing our acquaintance, eight years later, was a pleasure. Spending time with born and bred Saints is the perfect way to learn more about the island and island life.

Like us, they've grown older. Both Joan and Gilbert have retired, but they're both working full time, just at other jobs now. Juliana, only 10 in 2007, is now 18,  a beautiful young woman, now graduated from high school, learning to drive and looking for a job.

Though we had the hire car for a few days to tour the island, Gilbert easily found spots we'd missed like the Heart-Shaped Waterfall that we'd passed several times, but hadn't even realized it was there.

We headed out to Deadwood Plain where new wind turbines had been installed. We stopped at the small meteorological station and then he pointed out the Painter's Palette, a colorfully eroded valley that showed off the intrinsic geologic beauty of the island.

We'd never visited the Millennium Forest, where Saints had planted thousands of gumwood trees in a conservation effort to restore the Great Wood Forest. St. Helena ebony, once thought to be extinct, also grows in great abundance here.

We took a look at the site of the new airport. It's nearly finished and a “calibration” flight is due in the next couple of weeks. There's mixed emotions about the airport and even Gilbert hadn't visited the new facility to see the progress that had been made. We noted that the end of the runway was definitely the “end of the runway”. King and Queen Rocks had a good backdrop.

Gilbert was a great host and a good sport, stopping frequently so I could get pics of signs and goats and birds and whatever else caught my fancy. We drove past the St. Helena Golf Club, touted as the most remote golf course in the world. I was thrilled when we spotted an endemic wirebird (aka St. Helena plover) and I got chance to photograph it. He was not playing golf, but was allowed on the course anyway.

We had a wonderful feast at Gilbert and Joan's home. Though Joan explained our request for St. Helena fishcakes was not the usual Sunday Saint fare (curry or a roast was more appropriate), she gladly provided fish cakes, rice and traditional pumpkin stew. We met at the Standard (Pub) before our departure for a few parting beers and they walked us to the ferry dock to say goodbye.

We also met a new friend, Val, via the tourist info office. Val is my age, but a tiny, energetic sprite of a woman. She offered to accompany us to Longwood for the Napoleonic tours and then acted as our guide for a walk up Flagstaff  Hill, a postbox walk. We hiked across the Deadwood Plain, site of the Boer Prisoner of War Camp.

Val had done this walk several times, but I found it a labor. When we got to the tippity-top, she promised, the view would make it all worthwhile. Our view from the top was similar to that of Diana's Peak. A thick, misty cloud had moved in obscuring any view at all.

We did, however, get a postbox stamp, proving our ascent. We picnicked up top. Heading down was easy.

Just to tease us, once we had descended, the mist disappeared and Flagstaff came clearly into view.

Val invited us for lunch at her house and it was quite an elegant affair. She served local grouper and wahoo, fresh from the market along with a fresh salad and an interesting mashed potato dish which included onions and cabbage and was excellent. Fresh local guavas gave themselves up into a crumble for dessert. We sipped wine, chatted and felt as if we'd know her for ages.

This is the way with Saints, I think. They're warm, hospitable, outgoing people who willingly share their island with strangers. Sometimes I think we're blessed; other times I'm sure of it.