Passage to Indonesia — Part 2. The Glow on the Horizon

 If there is one thing that became clear early in this passage, it’s that night changes everything.  (If you missed part 1, click here)

The first evening after leaving Australia gave us our introduction. The western horizon glowed, not like stars or constellations, but like a distant city at sea. A low, steady brightness spread across the darkness, far too expansive to be natural.  Based on the scale of the glow, we assumed it was a Chinese fishing fleet. There were more than fifty boats in that one area alone, with other clusters scattered farther west.

Passage to Indonesia — Part 1 Late Season, Open Water

I began this passage from Australia to Indonesia with more trepidation than usual. That alone should have been a clue.

There were reasons, of course. There always are. We were leaving Australia fully inside cyclone season, which officially runs from November 1 to April 30. By late December, we weren’t at the tail end or even the shoulder, we were squarely in it. Late enough that people paused when we mentioned our plans. Late enough that the weather patterns had shifted from helpful to unfriendly. Winds that had once been behind us were now firmly in our face. Currents, too, would be working against us. On paper, it was not the right time to make this passage.

Australian Wildlife: From Adorable to Mildly Terrifying

One of the great joys of our time in Australia was meeting an entirely new supporting cast of animals. Some were impossibly cute, some were loud and opinionated, and some existed mainly to remind us why Australians read warning signs very carefully. This is a mostly pictorial roundup, with just enough words to prove I was paying attention.

The Cute Stuff (Lulling You Into a False Sense of Security)

The freedom of having a car (at least for a while)

 

Ocean Freedom vs Shore Reality

People talk about the freedom of the open ocean, free to go anywhere, depending on the wind, the waves, the currents and the tides. This is true, we do experience this, but as soon as we go ashore our world shrinks dramatically. Whether we go ashore by dinghy or we are at a dock in a marina, our range suddenly becomes “anything within walking distance,” which, depending on the temperature and how many groceries we need, can be extremely negotiable.

One of the joys of renting a car is getting to search out waterfalls, it gives us great pleasure. 

Townsville City, Willie Wagtails, and Boatyard Blues: Our Unexpected Stop in Australia

Did we plan on being in Australia now? No.

Are we enjoying it? Yes. 

Well, for the most part… 

Right now, Rhapsody is hauled out at Rosshaven Marina in Townsville City —yes, Townsville City , because apparently naming a place “Town” and “Village” wasn't enough—waiting for some repairs. Being at the whim of other people's schedules under the unrelenting tropical sun is… let's just say character-building (and yes, sun hats are essential survival gear ). Yesterday, a breeze finally stirred, and for two glorious minutes, it felt like victory. Then it died again.

Welcome to boat life: patience, repairs, repeat.

Four Months on Land: Reflections from a Long-Term Traveler

For the past eight years, Bob and I have been long-term travelers, calling our sailboat, Rhapsody, home as we explored the world. But now, for the first time in nearly a decade, we’ve stepped away from the water for an extended land-based journey. And let me tell you—traveling on land as a long-term traveler feels very different from both life aboard and the short, whirlwind experiences of vacationers.

A Slow Boat Down the Mekong: Faster than Rhapsody, But Who’s Counting?

When you hear "slow boat down the Mekong," you might imagine a leisurely, tranquil journey, gently drifting along one of Southeast Asia's most famous rivers. "Slow Boat" is not just a descriptor, it is what these boats are called. And sure, it's all of that—unless you're comparing it to our sailboat, Rhapsody. Then it’s more of a brisk jog. For two days, Bob and I embraced the role of passengers, a rare treat for sailors, who are used to being the captains of our own chaos.