Sailing and the Terrible Twos

Diego Buhay, my grandson, joined us on our 10-day sailing trip to Busuanga, Palawan in Paraluman over the Christmas holidays in 2010 when he was 2 years and 4 months old. This was the first time we brought him on a long boat trip. He sails with us regularly albeit on day trips and had never slept overnight in the boat.  I was nervous about this arrangement. I was worried that we might lose him as he has a habit of unexpectedly jumping into the water. Or that he would get cabin fever in our snail home as there’s not a lot of room for his boundless energy. Or that he would burn his soft baby skin. Or get seasick and miserable and therefore make everyone else miserable.

Inseparable from his Caterpillar dump truck

All our fears were unjustified. Diego seems to have been born with sea legs. Diego was happy and comfortable in Paraluman and didn't need a lot aside from his milk, his yellow Caterpillar dump truck and a free spot for his head when sleepy. He ate when he was hungry, slept when sleepy, jumped in the water when he was hot. He could entertain himself with his beloved yellow truck and when he gets bored, would just move on to whatever is at hand. He would smile or knit his eyebrows with wonder and curiosity at any object around him, whether it’s a broken shell or a piece of seaweed. He particularly enjoyed pinching us with the crab claws after we had eaten all the meat (those claws are painful!). When sleepy, he would just curl up on the mattress on deck or squeeze in an empty corner, wherever the shade is.

With Raul, his grandfather, wrapped around his finger

I will not sugarcoat this and admit that he had his usual share of terrible twos moments- his crying spells, times when I felt like giving him a dose of Benadryl just to make him shut up or go to sleep, when I wondered how many more times he can run around the boat with us chasing him to make sure he didn’t fall off, waking up in the middle of the night when we had just passed out from too much alcohol, or too early in the morning when it was too early to wake up and please oh please can I have just a few more minutes of sleep I’m on vacation. On New Year’s Day, I woke up at 9am after a night of a bit too much of champagne to strange cracking sounds and Diego’s laughter to find him contentedly playing by himself in the midst of broken egg shells. There were broken raw eggs all around him, on the bed, the saloon walls, the floor, with that revolting smell everywhere, and Raul, his grandfather, fast asleep beside him oblivious to the mess on his face and clothes.

Whatever. It was an absolute joy to have Diego, my grandson, the sailor, on the boat with us.

This trip reminded me so much of how Marina, my eldest daughter and Diego’s mom, spent almost all her childhood weekends for about 10 years since she was 2 in Lake Caliraya. We slept in a tent then and on rainy days, slept in our Toyota Corona stationwagon or Lite-Ace. We camped out every weekend, bathed in the lake and had a hole in the ground for a toilet covered with bamboo walls. She enjoyed every minute and has wonderful memories of those weekends. She did not need too many toys and was very happy simply playing with her friends in the mud. 

I realize that kids adjust to their surroundings easier than we think, maybe even better than adults do. That they are born with no fears and prejudices. It made me appreciate that we need so little and need not stress over every small detail or overthink things.

I think we should all find the inner child in us. Life would be much simpler.

50 Shades of Gray

Subic Bay Yacht Club to San Teodoro, Mabini, Batangas, Philippines

10 October 2012

The whole world is a monotonous gray pallete around me. The sky is overcast, a somber grayish white canvas, the water a darker shade of steel of gentle swells. Even the wind feels gray, a mild 5-knot downwind breeze. The horizon is a thin line within the overlapping shades of bleeeaahh. There are no other colors in this leaden background. Even Paraluman which is white and other boats in the distance seem to disappear into the landscape.

I’m bringing Paraluman home to Pugad, San Teodoro, Mabini, Batangas after keeping it in Subic Bay Yacht Club for almost two months during the habagat (southwest monsoon) season. It is a very easy trip- 78 nautical miles downwind estimated at 14-16 hours at one straight line with only 2 important turns. In other words, it will be boring. In fact, I’m falling asleep while writing this…

And right now, we have all the ingredients for dozing off. 50… No! More! … shades of gray around us. Repetitive lazy swells and a gentle breeze behind that lull me to sleep. Nothing to see around us as the mainland is hidden by the clouds. Nothing to do either. The boat’s on auto pilot. No navigation skills required- no reefs or rocks to watch out for or islands to go around. No music as the stereo is not working. I left my phone charger so I can’t surf the net to save my phone battery. The sails are down because we don’t have enough wind and the only sound is the mind-numbing hypnotic drone of the engine and the soothing lapping of the waves on the boat. I had very little sleep last night- slept at midnight and up at 4am.  My 2 sailing companions don’t talk. I miss my husband, my regular sailing companion. I look at my watch and realize only 5 minutes have passed. I can’t keep my eyes open but I shouldn't go to sleep. I’m the captain of this boat and I have to watch over the safety of my passengers and my vessel!

The only thing we really need to do is make sure there are no boats in front of us or that we’re not in anybody’s way. But the few boats I’ve seen are too far away for concern, just another shade of gray in the distance….. zzzzzzz….

I’m bored to death. But I’m not complaining. I’ll take 50 shades of gray anytime vs strong winds, big waves and the cold. I’ll take boredom over the stress, the monotony over anxiety. Thankfully, tropical storm Nina is too far away to affect the country. More importantly, I’d rather be doing this than being stuck in traffic in the city or working in a freezing office.

In the meantime, I can’t keep my eyes open. But hey! I’m the captain! I’m the boss, right? You two! Watch over the boat while I sleep. Laters, baby.

Freshman Jitters in Bulabog

Bulabog Beach, Boracay Island, Philippines

Bulabog Beach during amihan (northeast monsoon from November to March) is like a high school campus for kiteboarders and windsurfers. The seniors are riding at top speed, strutting their stuff. The freshmen, students in their mandatory helmets, are nervously launching their kites and clumsily getting on their boards for the first time. The jocks are somersaulting, twisting and turning up to 10 meters in the air- shirtless men showing off their rippling muscles and bikini-clad women flaunting their sexy toned bodies. The nerds avoid the crowds and go out early in the morning while the world is still asleep and dealing with hangovers or late in the afternoon during happy hour. Rowdy parties, loud music and alcoholic revelries from sunset till dawn complete the campus scene.

Windy days are happy days!

Bullies abound- kiters and windsurfers who zip past inches away from you spraying salt water on your face. Beginners like me can’t do anything except swallow your pride, close your eyes and cover your nose as the salt water engulfs you. Bullies act as if they own the water, shooing you away and shouting at you to get out of their way when clearly you have no control of your kite and board.

Windless days bring out the laziness or creativity in you.

I lived in Boracay for a month in January 2012 with a single objective in mind- to learn how to kiteboard. Learning how to kite is like being a freshman in school with Bulabog Beach being the big wide scary world. You are equally inspired and intimidated by the older kids and are certain that everyone’s watching and laughing at you fall repetitively on your face. You are scared to venture past the beginners’ area and take comfort in being with fellow anxious neophytes. You spend most of your time in the water- not with actual riding- but falling and relaunching your kite or recovering your board. And just when you’ve- oh at last launched your kite and gotten on your board yey!- you fall on your face again. Your kite has a mind of its own. You are aware of horror stories of kiters getting blown high up in the air and crashing onto trees and buildings, and at the worst, dying. You panic when your kite dives into the water with a sickening thud and realize you almost spliced off the ears of the kiter nearby who quickly pumps his fist at you shouting god knows what and I am glad I can’t hear you because you’re too far away. Why are they such assholes? They were beginners once, too, and went through the same awkward stage I was experiencing then.

For lessons, I recommend Green Yard Funboard Center with very competent and friendly instructors.

On a good day during the amihan season, Bulabog Beach has at least a thousand kiters in the water. Ok, I exaggerate but that’s how it feels like when you're a newbie. It’s like being in EDSA at rush hour with everyone going at 100 km/hour. Bulabog Beach, often called the other side of paradise because it is on the other side of the world famous White Beach, is one of the world’s top kiteboarding and windsurfing destinations owing to its ideal conditions- steady onshore amihan, flat shallow water, sandy bottom, affordable food and alcohol, beautiful people from around the world and fantastic nightlife. But it can be overwhelming for a novice who doesn't have full command of your kite and are a potential danger to yourself and others around you. It reminded me of my first week in the giant intimidating world of the University of the Philippines, the country’s leading state university, center of student rebellion and activism. I am a middle aged woman with a not so bad career behind me and and yet I felt like a wimp in Bulabog. I never felt that insecure in ages.

My beach front home and "car" for my month in Boracay.

But I despair not. For I realized that for every bully in the water, there’s an angel. On a particularly frustrating day of high wind and repetitive catapults, a stranger went out of his way to pick up my board which I got separated from and handcarried it to me. Thank you, dear stranger, whoever you are. My smile and thank you wave came from the bottom of my heart. That definitely made my day. Campus life as a freshman isn't so bad after all. One good deed erases away the horrors of the day. 

Aren't You Afraid of Pirates?

This is one of the most common questions we’re asked about sailing. I think this fear is borne from memories of the horrifying Abu Sayyaf abductions several years ago in Palawan (although the victims were abducted from a resort then taken by boat to Basilan) and the frequent piracy incidents in Somalia. I must admit though that the story of the American couple living their dream of sailing around the world who were taken hostage and killed in Somalia 2 years ago freaked me out.

A fisherman offering his newly caught 15+ kilo tuna on our way to Dumaguete

Today’s pirates are not the Blackbeard-type but range from petty thieves eyeing your fraying board shorts to modern boaters equipped with mobile phones, GPS and fast boats, out to hassle you for cash, fuel, electronic equipment or maybe even your entire vessel.

My Panty Line

4 November 2012 
Maricaban Bay, Busuanga, Palawan, Philippines 

I've always been turned off by the sight of flapping clotheslines in otherwise elegant boats and I try not to hang anything in Paraluman.

I packed enough clothes to last me for my one month trip without washing. Not just to avoid peppering Paraluman with hanging laundry but also to save my precious fresh water supply. I love it that I need very few pieces of clothing here. A bikini and sarong for the day, a rash guard and board shorts for swimming and snorkeling, a well-loved pair of denim cut-offs and a top or a dress for drinks at the bar at night, a tank top and Raul's boxers for sleeping. So far, I've used about 1/10th of my supply of fresh clothes.

Except for underwear which I've just run out of. Today I washed my used underwear and had no choice but to hang them to dry in Paraluman for the world to see. Sexy and lacy panties for when Raul is around, big loose ones for when Raul is not around, happy ones, regular ones. I apologize to the unfortunate observer for ruining the view.

Hanging laundry- I've accepted it as a reality in boating life.

O Captain! I'm Captain!

San Teodoro, Mabini, Batangas to Maricaban Bay, Busuanga, Palawan, Philippines
31 October 2012

I’m Paraluman’s first mate and my husband, Raul, is the skipper or captain. That means that he’s at the helm, makes all the decisions and shouts out orders which I carry out immediately. He stands behind the wheel and the navigation instruments while I do all the physical non-thinking work. I run around the boat, pull the lines, grind the winches, set the travelers, lift and drop the anchor.

Windsurfing, still my alltime favorite kind of sailing because it's sooo fast!

I’ve been sailing for 20+ years- windsurfing, hobie cat and dinghy sailing, crewing for a keelboat for 10+ years, and recently started kiteboarding. But there’s something about helming a big keelboat like Paraluman that intimidates me until now. Being used to windsurfing where control is within reach of my own hands and feet and the response is instantaneous, I still can't get used to Paraluman’s size and am easily frightened when she heels or it’s time to gybe or tack.

Raul, my husband and captain

Our past sailing trips are always relaxed and made up of short hops between destinations. We never sail at night and break long trips into several legs. We aim to be anchored safely by mid-afternoon so we are grilling our steaks and drinking our vodka tonics by sunset.

The Joy of Doing Nothing

November 2012
Maricaban Bay, Busuanga, Palawan, Philippines


I sailed into beautiful Maricaban Bay, Busuanga, Palawan on a full moon and left on a full moon.

I spent almost 5 weeks living by myself in Paraluman in my favorite place in the Philippines, in clear blue waters ringed with lush rolling hills. Alone but never lonely, my days were dictated not by my To Do list or the traffic situation, but by the weather, the sun and the moon.

View from Hunter's Peak. Paraluman is the faint blue line.

I start each day by watching the sunrise and end with the sunset. On calm windless days, I swim laps around the reef, kayak to the mangroves or snorkel with the friendly resident school of jacks. On cool windy days, I run on the beach, climb Hunter’s Peak for a panoramic view of the bay or wrestle the sand rake from the maintenance guy so I can rake the beach myself. Then I go to work- load fresh water, refill fuel tanks, charge the batteries, operate the generator. I clean Paraluman inside and out, and Putol, my trusty dinghy. Cook, wash the dishes, do the laundry. Read the news, check email and manage the city household remotely. During the hottest hours of unbearably scorching days, I take a nap as moving alone becomes an effort. Without planning to, I lose weight and get stronger in a way that I couldn’t in Manila despite hours in the gym and watching what I eat.