December 2008

Rain and thoughts in Majuro
This morning I put up a tent on the side deck of Sequester. This was done in an effort to continue providing electricity on board in the face of today’s challenge. Since we returned to Majuro I have refurbished the wind generator, and it works great......when there is wind. The solar panels are more than adequate for our needs.....when there is sunlight. But once more the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone is confounding our renewable energy systems. For the last few days it's been light wind and heavy cloud, and now, when I need to boost the charging with the little gasoline generator, it's steadily raining. Cheap little generators don't much like rain, so I made a tent for it, and it seems happy out there puttering along, feeding the computer and the batteries.
I haven't sent an update email out since we got back here, and sent our voting ballots back to Florida. I'm quite sure you all know how relieved and pleased we are with the results of that election. There's a gigantic challenge before us now, but at least there's someone in line to seriously address it rather than issue bumper sticker slogans and threats. Let's all pay attention, and help wherever we can. And on that subject; I just got an email from a friend who was one of our favorite Worldteach volunteers last year. We think very much alike about the state of the world, and he asked for my response to some of his friends since he returned to the States. He's been told he's now their most depressing friend. That's what you get for describing reality, I said. Review how it went for Nicolas Copernicus. But you don't have to be depressed by it. You can take it as a challenge rather than a death sentence. I was tempted to expand on that with a motorcycle racing analogy, because that was my sport, and how I defined myself, while I was learning how to use my mind. I didn't write it then, but now it's raining and I don't have anything to do but think and type, so I'll tell a story. If you hate technical sports allegories, skip on down the page!
In 1976 I had a few years of racing experience behind me, and I had trained myself to react both analytically and emotionally to a crisis. Having found virtually every possible way to fall off, I was finally pretty good at keeping the rubber side down, as the jargon of the track expressed it. The incident I'm thinking of happened in the second lap of a national roadrace at Road Atlanta. I was leading, and pushing things a bit to open some distance between myself and the pack, and at the apex of turn 3 I fed it a little too much power a little too soon. Dave Stanton later described what he saw. Dave was probably a better rider than I was, with lots of experience, so I take him at his word. He said he NEVER saw anyone get a bike that far out of shape and stay on it. He figures at one point the rear wheel was in front. From the time I lost all traction until I made the turn exit, on line at full throttle, the elapsed time was about a half a second. In that half second, bookmakers wouldn't have bet very high on my success. But I was trained to react, and to assess, in exactly that circumstance. If you shut down the power at such a time, the rear tire gains traction instantly, and stops moving sideways. But the rest of the bike has momentum, and keeps going that way. It turns into a 100 horsepower catapult, and the rider is left wondering how high he (or she) is going to get before gravity wins over momentum. Return to Earth really hurts. So, shutting the throttle is not the best option. On the other hand, opening the throttle is how this got started, and left alone, the spinning rear wheel will pass the designated front wheel, gyroscopic stability will get all confused, and you're going to fall down. In turn 3 at Atlanta, that would be at about 80 miles per hour, it's going to hurt, it's going to break your bike, and you're not going to win the race. So you can't really just leave it opened up. Moderation is called for, and adjustment to changing conditions. As I backed off the power a bit, the front wheel could outrun the back again. As the bike assumed proper orientation, I needed to power up again to use CONTROLLED wheelspin to steer out of the turn, and to keep from being run over by a hard charging (and probably slightly disconcerted) second place rider. It all came together perfectly. No road rash for me, no broken bike, Just a big adrenalin rush and on to the next turn.
Now, how does this apply to a crashing economy, failing energy supply, and climate change? First, we, the people of the planet, have a gargantuan trove of knowledge at our command, having recorded the failure of quite a few economic models, having transited several varieties of energy source, and having faced continuous, (if considerably slower) environmental change since our species first began to alter where we live. There is a very good chance that we have the ability to ride this out. But here comes the second part, and the major point of the tale. I wasn't about to stop actively riding the bike until I couldn't reach it any more. And until we as a species fall down and can't get up again, we need to be actively looking for a level of moderation that will allow us to exist at an acceptable quality of life. That may involve giving up the 300 horsepower car, the heated pool, maybe even the air conditioning. Take note that Ben Franklin never had any of those things, and he seems to have had quite a good time living. There was a time I couldn't imagine never again feeling the joy of piloting a high powered motorcycle along a twisting strip of pavement. My last race was at Daytona in 1983. After that I could no longer justify the use of resources for so small a return. It was not my right to use those resources just because I could pay the asking price for them. The market had failed. They were underpriced. Every year since then has proved my assessment more correct. I don't burn much gas any more, just about a liter a day for the little generator and the little outboard motor. I'm looking for ways to reduce that. I'm using a lot less physical resources, but trust me, life is still very good. Don't give up just because you have to change.
So much for applied ancient history. Now for the news. We got back from the outer atolls vowing to alter our lifestyles enough that we could take a day every week or two and sail the 4 miles out to Enemanet. Away from town, and the pollution and noise, we could pick up a mooring and swim and laze and regenerate our souls. Well, not from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve.
The boats have been pouring into the Marshalls from the South Pacific cruising grounds and from Hawaii, looking for a safe layover from the southern cyclone season. I've been prodded into running a twice daily SSB radio schedule, keeping up with boats on the way, and boats visiting the outer atolls of Tuvalu, Kiribati and the Marshalls. It's work, and restricts scheduling for other things some, but everyone, including myself, wants to help the whole community with better communications. It adds to our comfort in the yachting community, and increasingly it makes it easier for us to help the populations of those remote atolls. Yacht club programs we've recently put in place include supplying outrigger canoe builders with rope and sail material, and supplying outer atoll villagers with fishing line and hooks. It's a work in progress finding the most effective ways to distribute the gifts equitably, but it's working pretty well so far. Major positives, besides simple philanthropy, are the very warm welcome visiting yachts receive at most atolls now, easier access for us to learn the skills the atoll dwellers have, and even the occasional waiver of local government visiting fees. Island visiting fees were introduced about a decade ago, when some yachts passed through showing no respect for either the customs or personal property of the local population, leaving a pretty low opinion of western boats among the chiefs. We'd like to turn that around, at least to portray reality. I DON'T want to discourage the villagers from assessing each visitor on their own merits. As a group, we're just like the human race as a whole; some of us aren't worth the bullet it would take to shoot us. Most of us are pretty good company.
It's kind of remarkable that Karen and I have come to be so involved in yacht club activities and the community. The name of our boat, "Sequester" means a place apart from other people, a place to meditate alone. (As a verb, think of a sequestered jury, removed from the influence of the general populace.) Maybe we did enough of that in the early times at sea to learn the value of balancing that with group effort.
In any case, Karen has always seen herself as an organizer, very goal oriented (like her mother!), and she's just about overbooked herself between being the Mieco Beach Yacht Club membership director, working with the club board on funding and staffing the new programs, and working for a living in her "spare" time. There's nobody in Majuro doing business as a canvas worker, sewing upholstry and awnings. Karen and two of the other yachties have and use heavy duty sewing machines, and they get pressed into service to do work not only for the yachties, but for the local businesses as well. Karen's been making cushions for one of the excursion boats, a sun shade cover for another, and together we're refurbishing all the balcony chairs for the main hotel here. No shortage of work to do. Sometimes we get a little riled at the low wages, until we consider that we're making 4 to 5 times what an average Marshallese worker gets. We heard recently how the Marshallese pay scale works.
They have a minimum wage here of $2.50 an hour, but apprentices can be paid half that. The interesting thing is that the way a worker gets to move from apprentice to qualified worker is on the approval of the employer. There are hundreds of people who in a dozen years have never gotten good enough at their job to make that step, yet the employer is so soft hearted as to allow them to stay on as apprentices. They weld, do machine work, run heavy equipment, type, file, clean, and take home $45 a week after taxes. Unemployment is about 30%, so it's pretty damn nice of PII to let them stay on, isn't it? Before I close this rambling missive, I do want to describe Karen's latest time devouring project. The yacht club commodore has arranged for a Hawaiian veterinarian to fly in for the week of Christmas to do health checks, owner education, and pet neutering. The only vets here now are the Taiwanese animal husbandry guys who advise on raising pigs. Karen and Chris (from S/V Windswept, you may recall the story about the mast!) have scheduled a dozen helpers a day for 4 days to catch, transport, and tend animals while they are anesthetized, undergo surgery, and are recovered and returned home. We're also cooking enough vegetarian meals daily to feed the vet, her family, and the work crew. The action starts tomorrow, and we'll be up to our armpits in cats, dogs and soyburgers until after Christmas. Wish us luck, and have a great holiday. Ted