En route to Perth

Hannah is reading "To the Ends of the Earth -- Journeys of the Great Explorers" by Balchin; Bori is reading "Tibetben a Lelek" (the Soul in Tibet) by Ferenc; Owen is reading Jared Diamond's "Collapse;" and Frank is reading "Heavy Weather Guide;" "Weather for the Mariner" and the famous section 3909 from Bowditch that starts: "The passage of a tropical cyclone at sea is an experience not soon to be forgotten..."

The Ballad of Bouillabaisse

A street there is in Paris famous, For which no rhyme our language yields, Rue Neuve des Petit Champs its name is — The New Street of the Little Fields. And here's an inn, not rich and splendid But still in comfortable ease; The which I oft in youth attended, To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse. This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — A sort of soup, or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo: Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onion, garlic, roach, and dace: All these you eat at Terre's tavern in that one dish of Bouillabaisse. Indeed a rich a savory stew 'tis; And true philosophers, methinks, Who love all sorts of natural beauties, Should love good victuals and good drinks. And Cordelier or Benedictine Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace, Nor find a fast day too afflicting, Which served him up a Bouillabaisse.

American Sea Writing

I just finished a lovely book American Sea Writing edited by Peter Neill. It was given to the boat by my friend and future shipmate, Robert Farrar. It has pieces by obvious authors like Melville, Dana and Twain, but also lovely pieces by James Fenimore Cooper, James Agee, Eugene O'Neill, Langston Hughes and may other less likely. Well worth it!

Sailing Links

Articles

Following a feature story last month, owner Frank Blair brings us the devastating news of his yacht's destruction during a refit at her build yard, just days before her re-launch.

Read the entire article here in PDF format. [7.4MB]

• Read pdf of Annie's Hill's story in the December 2007 Yachting World about Schooner Maggie B.

Sites

• Nautical architect who designed Maggie B: Nigel Irens
• Shipyard where Maggie B was built: Covey Island Boatworks
• Sails: North Sails
• Boat photographer in Aruba: Tim Wright
• Good reading: Boat International Magazines
• Our weather info resource: Landfall Navigation
• Our wireless network provider: Global Marine Networks
• Where we stayed in Bahia: Centro Nautico da Bahia
• Where we hope to stay in Cape Town: Royal Cape Yacht Club, South Africa
• A bit about schooners: Schooner Man

Music heard on board lately

We have a great sound system on, which includes a Sony CD/Tuner/XM Radio system with Bose speakers.

The XM Satellite Radio system worked great... up North. Not now.

CDs are great, and having friends send some is marvelous, but much of what we listen to is off my iPod which has days of music from our CDs and others.

We often have music at sea around noontime/lunch time, but other times, if we are going 24/7 it is inappropriate to put sounds on high when it might be someone else's treasured nap time. In port certainly we have lots of music, especially at sunset.

Right now, some of our favorite music includes:

Yo Yo Ma €” Appalacian Journey

Pink Martini €” Hang on Little Tomato and Sympatique

Paul Simon €” Concert in the Park

Jimmie Buffett €” everything

kd lang €” Hymns of the 49th Parallel

The Neill Sisters €” everything

Nora Jones €” everything

Music from Garden State (the movie)

Late night watches have passed quickly when we've listened to NPR's Driveway Moments CD which is the compilation of the best NPR audio stories, which range from 15-25 minutes. Marvelous for the Midnight to 4AM watch!

Take a tour aboard the Maggie B

Here's a short slideshow tour of the Maggie B's accommodations. Or, view the photos, with descriptions, here:

Welcome aboard!

En route to Fernando de Noronha: Pamuk, Steinbeck & “Le Grande Secret”

The Captain is reading My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk. Mounira and Nadia are reading Steinbeck's A l'Est d'Eden aloud to each other and Valentine just finished "Le Grande Secret" which is about a great secret (an immortality drug).

En route to Brazil: McMurtry’s newest, Patrick O’Brien, & Pierre Desproges

The Captain just finished Telegraph Days by Larry McMurtry -- perhaps partially for the pleasure of contemplating dry, dusty Tombstone, Arizona. Now I'm on my third re-read of Patrick O'Brian's Blue at the Mizzen -- trying to alternate sailing books with their land cousins. Nadia, Mounira and Valentine are reading aloud Pierre Desproges Chroniques de la haine ordinaire.

Photos from the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta, 2006

Check out these great photos of the Maggie B taken by Tim Wright at the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta, 2006. Just click the "Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta 2006" link and search the list of boats for the Maggie B.

We hope to have these photos available on this site very soon — without the watermarks.

from “Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson

 I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle–
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me–
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads–you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.