From the Estonian EC Member: Enn

A voyage on the good ship Django is not just a pleasure outing; it’s equally a learning experience in sea craft and ethnography. Should any reader be lucky enough to have the opportunity to sail with Captain Willie, here are a few, possibly useful, odds and ends of information--things we all could have learned long ago if our mothers had worn navy boots or consorted with sailor. But, as Jimmy Cagney used to say, “it’s never too late to be wised up.” Unlike some of us, who learned the hard way, with a little perseverance you can actually master these skills before you embark on your adventure…

The Captain at the wheel

So, about two weeks prior to the voyage, start sleeping on a water bed, the bigger, the better. This will help you get used to the gentle rocking motion of the boat at anchor and the roller coaster ride of the ocean swells. When you actually get on board, you’ll thank your lucky stars that Django is a catamaran and not a mono-hull. The alternative or back-up position is to stock up on Graval pills…

Practise making salubrious rum punches. On second thought, don’t bother, since Kathleen’s rum punch is impossible to improve on. (We know whereof we speak, having done arduous research checking rum punchs in numerous bars from St. Vincent to Union Island. It was no contest; hers is non pareil.) So go immediately to the fallback position. Practise drinking rum punches…and beer…and wine…and…

Leave your watch at home. Shipboard time is told according to a variety of naval traditions–-such as the ringing of bells (eg. three bells, six bells, etc.). The Django has its own new, improved and simplified time units—-just two of them, in fact--to mark the important periods of the day: “beer o’clock,” close to noon and “rum punch o’clock,” approximately at sunset. Both periods mark the beginning of a prolonged period of rest and relaxation after strenuous maritime activities…

KMH indulging in 'strenuous maritime activities'

Dust off your Pete Seeger, Everley Brothers, Kingston Trio and Bob Dylan LPs and try to memorize as many words to their songs as you can. You will need this to keep up with the singalongs that take place in the cockpit under a starry sky nearly every night. (Yes, it is like summer camp, without nerdy video games, so you have to make your own entertainment; but instead of a fire, you gather around Willie’s guitar.) If you want to be a real hit, memorize the words to several esoteric and largely forgotten British music hall songs of a comedic nature. But be forewarned and pick carefully, Kathleen knows almost all of them and, like the Energizer bunny, will outlast you for sure. Non-singers may be comforted by the fact that the fallback position allows you to actually talk to each other.

Empty your fridge of beans, asparagus and broccoli, and visit your local Caribbean grocery to stock up on yams, papaya, plantain, cristofine, etc. Look for Caribbean recipes on the internet and experiment. Use spices you have never heard of with lots of chili peppers. Stock up on Pepto-Bismal. The fallback position is to accept that Kathleen is a better cook than you will ever be and that you can probably only rise to the occasion by treating her to dinner on shore.

Mate and Skipper work on a bit of
Django haute cuisine: a fresh and juicy pineapple

Learn to tie seaworthy knots, real ones, not the kind your “granny” would be proud of. Practise them, especially the “bowl-in”, until you can do them blindfolded, with one-hand, in three seconds flat. It could save your life, “they” say.

Make an appointment to visit a dominatrix, or better still invite your mother-in-law for a brief visit prior to the voyage. Be sure to ask her to wear her leathers and stiletto heels, and to bring her riding crop. This will help prepare you for the time when the Mate “whips” the eager crew into seagoing shape.

With your partner, take turns waking each other up every two hours. This will prepare you for the longer overnight passages, when everyone stands dog watches. Even if you are lucky enough to hug the coast, you’ll still need to do this to cope with overnight rainstorms during which you will have to wake up to close the overhead hatches. The fallback position is to revert to childhood and learn to sleep in a wet bed.

Start talking to strangers on the streets of Westmount, especially ones who mumble or slur their speech. It’s good practice in fine-tuning your ear to “hear” a variety of accents. This will help you to interact with interesting people on the islands you visit. Islanders are eager to chat with visitors and often have surprisingly interesting tales to tell. The fallback position is to never go ashore.

Above all, practise humility. No way you will ever know as much about sailing as Captain Willie and you will need all the equanimity you can muster to withstand the withering scorn of the Mate when you mess up…which you will! The good thing is that she doesn’t really mean it and will not deprive you of your daily rum ration.
So that’s how it lies…the sum total of our post-voyage wisdom. We hope it helps.

Bon Voyage…

(All photos kindness of Dana and Enn)