We sailed in company of the yacht Keeshond from Darwin, Australia to Bali,
Indonesia. Next we followed in their wake across the Java Sea to arrive
in Singapore, and then up the Malacca Straits to arrive in Langkawi,
Malaysia, and on to Phuket, Thailand. From Thailand we went
across the Indian Ocean, through the Gulf of Aden, up the Red Sea, into the
Mediterranean Sea, and over to Gibraltar.
For this entire trip, we got weather routing from Neil and Fiona on
Keeshond. Neil's computer-like brain is able to fathom the mysteries
of the highs and lows, the monsoons and cyclones, the ridges and troughs
that dominate the lives of ocean cruisers. Neil even gave us weather
routing when we were crossing the Atlantic ocean. From England
using internet and Sailmail, he gave us daily up dates on our weather
situation. He told us to keep on keeping on as we sailed
transatlantic in the trade winds instructing us to deviate north or south to
avoid bad weather.
When the tsunami happened in Thailand, he used satellite communications to
give us up to date news regarding any new earthquakes and possible
tsunamis. Rumors of more quakes and tsunamis were flying everywhere.
The amount of misinformation was overwhelming, and Neil sorted it all out to keep the fleet on even keel. So thanks for the help. This
poem is dedicated to Neil and Fiona on Keeshond.
KEESHOND
Keeshond, Oh Keeshond,
I'm listening for you.
Tell me all the weather,
You can get me through.
Should I stay put in Phuket
For another day,
Or
head off to the Nicobars
Sailing bravely on my way?
Turn on your ham radio
And tell me some good news,
Of isobars in the Nicobars,
Do tsunamis come in twos?
Is there a high in Pakistan,
Or low in Timbuktu?
This monsoon has me all confused,
I just don't have a clue.
So Keeshond, Oh Keeshond,
Give me your weather cast.
Is it safe to cross the Bay of Bengal,
Can I pull my anchor up at last?
I'm counting on you Keeshond
To tell me when to go,
Through the Bab Al Mandeb
To start the Red Sea show.
And while you're at it Keeshond
Can you tell me please,
How to outsmart Yemeni pirates
As I sail by on the breeze?
Keeshond, Oh Keeshond,
I'm listening for you.
You're the man with the plan
That can get me through.
Up the Red Sea, to the Med Sea,
Turkey and Greece too.
Please help me Keeshond
If it's not too much to do.
I'm listening for you Keeshond,
I hear Gibraltar's call.
Give me advice about wind and waves,
And highs and lows, that's all.
I don't want to be a pest,
But I'm calling on you.
You're the man with the plan,
You can get me through.
You can tell me Keeshond,
What, where, when, and why,
To pull up the anchor,
Raise my sails, do or die.
Thank you, thank you, Keeshond,
Because of your insight,
My anchors down in paradise,
I'm sleeping well tonight.
I knew that you could do it,
And I could count on you.
You were the man with the plan,
It's you that got me through.
So there you have it. This poem says it all. If Neil ever gives
up his job in the computer industry, he can do weather routing for a living.
I plan to stay in touch with Keeshond, because I never know when I will need
the man with the plan that can get me through. Good on you Neil and
Fiona.
