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<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\nBrenda and I split up so we could make sure everyone felt included, and by the time we left, it felt like we’d accomplished something by bringing like minded cruisers together in an informal and manageable way. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The ability to look at a map, see where our people\/boats are and then reach out to them in real time was a new way, to me, for bringing folks together. A modern approach similar to what we used to do in an anchorage, moving from boat to boat to invite folks to get together. And it got me thinking about community.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Or, perhaps more accurately, about what happens when you move to a new neighborhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In some ways, moving from the Caribbean to the Mediterranean has been like moving to a new neighborhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The houses and towns are older. Much older. The scenery is spectacular. Every town seems to have its own castle, fortress or church that has been standing for hundreds, often thousands, of years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But we don’t know the neighbors yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That’s something I hadn’t fully appreciated when we decided to spend several years cruising in the Mediterranean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a decade, the Caribbean was our winter home. We didn’t have a house there, of course, but we did have a home base, Pandora, and we had our people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When Brenda and I first started cruising, even if it was only for weekends, I can remember how disconnected we felt when we left the dock. We’d go away for a few days and suddenly we were out of touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Today, of course, that’s almost unimaginable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We’re living in an always-connected world. Some people actually like the idea of disappearing for a while, of checking out and not being seen or heard from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That’s not for everyone but I am definitely not one of those people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I like to say, only slightly jokingly, that I don’t want to be alone except when I’m in the bathroom \u2014 and even then, that assumes it doesn’t take too long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration, but not by much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For the last week, Brenda has been away at a weaving workshop in Vermont. For the first few days she had little cell coverage and even less Wi-Fi. I’ll admit that I struggled with the \u201cwhere’s Brenda?\u201d thing. Being cut off from her, even for a day, wasn’t much fun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And that got me thinking about how much our idea of being \u201cout of touch\u201d has changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I’ve covered something like 30,000 ocean miles over the years, and until fairly recently, going offshore really did mean being disconnected. Sure, with my Single Sideband and limited email capability, I was SORT OF able to stay in touch. Now, with Starlink, that’s largely a thing of the past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Being able to pick up the phone, send a message or get in the dinghy and go see someone, so much a part of our life for more than a decade was a treat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s also something I need, probably more than most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That’s really what the Salty Dawgs gave us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For ten years of cruising in the Caribbean, a huge part of our experience was being part of that community.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were sundowners and shared meals as the sun dropped below the horizon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cruiser events that I hosted at the Essex Yacht Club over the years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hanging out on the docks with close friends in St Lucia, during Covid when there was nowhere to go, always being sure to be upwind from others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We flew various club burgees so other cruisers would know that we were \u201cone of them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were rendezvous with fellow cruisers, too numerous to count, including more than one particularly memorable birthday celebration. In particular, Brenda’s on our very first run south to the Bahamas, our first year in a “real” community of sailors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were celebrations when we arrived in Antigua after an ocean passage. I made that round trip eight times, I think, so there was always something to celebrate \u2014 sometimes more than others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Tot club, yet another community, that meets daily in Antigua, to share a dram of rum and toast the King.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were island tours with friends. Someone would say, \u201cHey, want to rent a car tomorrow?\u201d and somehow, an hour later, we’d have a plan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And, of course, family visits along the way. <\/p>\n\n\n\n None of this was particularly difficult to arrange. Well, family visits can be tough to get on the calendar, but cruisers are good at finding each other. Put a few boats in the same harbor, fly the same burgee or recognize a familiar name and before long, you’ve got a group going somewhere for dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That’s what I realized while looking at those member maps for the Essex rendezvous, that it was like looking at boats in anchorage, a community that I could invite for a visit, just like the old days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The technology has changed, but the basic idea hasn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The maps simply make it easier to find our people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The rendezvous was almost ridiculously easy to organize.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at the maps, found members who were close enough to Essex, sent out an invitation and waited to see what happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sixteen sailors showed up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We had drinks in the bar, dinner and a great evening together. At the end, we all posed for a photo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bruce, the guy on the left in the photo and an OCC member, took the other photo of the clubhouse as he headed back to his boat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s a great shot. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\nThe New Neighborhood<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Our People<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\nSixteen People and a Dinner<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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