It is on more than one occasion have I witnessed a first time yacht owner emerge from his entrepreneurial husk, blinking at the sun light as though for the first time. Cocooned for the best part of their natural life, by the fabric of numbers, paper and fluorescent lighting.I watch with anticipation in much the same way as David Attentborough might observe an aquatic animal’s first evolutionary dash across a muddy patch of sand. So to do the simpletons take their first awkward stumbling steps on the passage commonly known as living.
Welcome to the beauty of yacht owner training. Training you administer as you would to any already domesticate but not quite potty trained pet. Like any newborn, they need nurturing, education, discipline and respect. If you get this balance right and you can go the distance. Avoid the politics with stand the conditions then you will have a financial goliath literally eating out of the palm of your hand.
Don’t for a moment think this is a path sprinkled with gumdrops and rose petals though my friends. This is survivor, the real world and big brother of the highest order rolled into one. However in this game there is no voting anyone out no matter how hard you wish. The joy of Groundhog Day repetition, a gaol sentence with the threat of drowning and where the weak are simply eaten. Welcome then, to the ocean cruising world known as yachting.
Ok im a little full of it. This world is hardly full of drama, glamor and exotic locations as you may think. However this is a bubble I have no intention of bursting on you. Yet. Before we begin our journey, which for you starts in St Maarten the Caribbean. Let me quickly introduce the other eight crew.
First and fore most is the captain. Sometimes a Rock star, generally a team player. Mostly a thorn in every ones side. From my perspective there are two major types.
1) The Bouffe head.
A slow bumbling, insecure socially retarded type whom you try and loose in a crowded bar. Generally they are harmless.
2) The Nerd.
Is a quit simple and dull yachtie. With all the same social dysfunction as a Bouffe head. Differences being they have nothing but yachts to talk about, would never enter a crowded bar and are much better at lists and coloring in without going outside the lines.
There is apparently a third. The type you’ve always wanted. The Rockstar. A cross between James Bond and Bruce Willis. Supa Stew swears she saw one once with her own two eyes. As for myself I’ve never met one, and am dubious of there existence, but sailors are a superstitious lot so this myth carries on. Ours for the record is a “Bouffe head”.
Now let me introduce the crew positions and there online names
The Captain for the sake of this blog we shall name him....
Capt Boo Boo.
1st mate, (a Bouffe head or Nerd in training), in our case a good guy. We shall call him....
1st mate
Engineer generally the crew member who’s morals are most often brought into question and ours is no different. We shall call him....
Cloggie
Chief Stewardess. Can be a bitch but generally a rock star, mine is called....
Super Stew
Deckies come in all shapes and sizes depending on nationality. We have 2. An Englishmen and a Kiwi.
Freight Train and Compete.
Stewies of which we also have two also come in all shapes and sizes and ours are English and Kiwi respectively. Ours are...
Gillybean and last, but by far not least,
Pocket Rocket the only Kiwi I know with an American twang and my blog designer.
Then of course there is me the Chef. The most important man on the ship, after all, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. I shall be referred to as I, me and myself. You may however call me Wazz.
Ok I know by anyones standards this is a boring entry, but introductions usually are and for that I apologies. I promise to do better.
So let us put introductions to rest, and move on to the fun stuff and our first recipes, but that all begins with a new day. That day begins in St Maarten, Dutch side.
Until then
Ciao, Tschüse, Doei
Welcome to the beauty of yacht owner training. Training you administer as you would to any already domesticate but not quite potty trained pet. Like any newborn, they need nurturing, education, discipline and respect. If you get this balance right and you can go the distance. Avoid the politics with stand the conditions then you will have a financial goliath literally eating out of the palm of your hand.
Don’t for a moment think this is a path sprinkled with gumdrops and rose petals though my friends. This is survivor, the real world and big brother of the highest order rolled into one. However in this game there is no voting anyone out no matter how hard you wish. The joy of Groundhog Day repetition, a gaol sentence with the threat of drowning and where the weak are simply eaten. Welcome then, to the ocean cruising world known as yachting.
Ok im a little full of it. This world is hardly full of drama, glamor and exotic locations as you may think. However this is a bubble I have no intention of bursting on you. Yet. Before we begin our journey, which for you starts in St Maarten the Caribbean. Let me quickly introduce the other eight crew.
First and fore most is the captain. Sometimes a Rock star, generally a team player. Mostly a thorn in every ones side. From my perspective there are two major types.
1) The Bouffe head.
A slow bumbling, insecure socially retarded type whom you try and loose in a crowded bar. Generally they are harmless.
2) The Nerd.
Is a quit simple and dull yachtie. With all the same social dysfunction as a Bouffe head. Differences being they have nothing but yachts to talk about, would never enter a crowded bar and are much better at lists and coloring in without going outside the lines.
There is apparently a third. The type you’ve always wanted. The Rockstar. A cross between James Bond and Bruce Willis. Supa Stew swears she saw one once with her own two eyes. As for myself I’ve never met one, and am dubious of there existence, but sailors are a superstitious lot so this myth carries on. Ours for the record is a “Bouffe head”.
Now let me introduce the crew positions and there online names
The Captain for the sake of this blog we shall name him....
Capt Boo Boo.
1st mate, (a Bouffe head or Nerd in training), in our case a good guy. We shall call him....
1st mate
Engineer generally the crew member who’s morals are most often brought into question and ours is no different. We shall call him....
Cloggie
Chief Stewardess. Can be a bitch but generally a rock star, mine is called....
Super Stew
Deckies come in all shapes and sizes depending on nationality. We have 2. An Englishmen and a Kiwi.
Freight Train and Compete.
Stewies of which we also have two also come in all shapes and sizes and ours are English and Kiwi respectively. Ours are...
Gillybean and last, but by far not least,
Pocket Rocket the only Kiwi I know with an American twang and my blog designer.
Then of course there is me the Chef. The most important man on the ship, after all, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. I shall be referred to as I, me and myself. You may however call me Wazz.
Ok I know by anyones standards this is a boring entry, but introductions usually are and for that I apologies. I promise to do better.
So let us put introductions to rest, and move on to the fun stuff and our first recipes, but that all begins with a new day. That day begins in St Maarten, Dutch side.
Until then
Ciao, Tschüse, Doei
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments for this post