A year since my last blog! Here’s what we’re up to now.
Building our house (4 years plus)… so nearly there, make-shift kitchen is about to upgrade to semi-make-shift!
Building a business: SisterShip Training is going great guns and continuing nicely along its 5 years plan – exciting news in the pipeline!
Bringing my horses back to good health. After the trail riding (A Standard Journey), we hot-footed it to the UK to spend much needed time with family. We left our horses with “friends” of friends. Three years later I skipped with joy with the thought of getting them back – on our own land no less. We collected three emaciated, worm-filled, lame, depressed, miserable horses.
The nine hour trip back to their forever home almost killed us all. I was beside myself wondering if they’d make it. Especially Charlie who is huge, big-boned but so fragile.
Five years on they look amazing and I almost have their feet back to where they should be. I will never forgive those people. The farrier thinks their feet were left for three years and chopped just before we picked them up – hence their lameness and a four-year struggle to get their feet back to health.
More Books?
Yes – in draft. However, SisterShip Training takes priority as far as work, as we are on the cusp of great things!
At the moment
My health is priority, having had a rocky-road for the last 1-2 years. Mostly due to stress. That’s all done and dusted now. I’ve shed the heavy weight things in my life that were very keen to destroy it and taken back control.
I had my hair tissue analysed (just like I did with the horses!), and it pretty much saved my health.
Sharing
I hope to share more of our journey from now on, and I thank everyone who has supported me along the way, especially those who have purchased my books and continue to write to me from all over the world.
The manuscripts are read umpteen times while editing and proof-reading and agonising over each and every word. But once finished, I’ve not read my books unless holding a reading, then, of course, it is a prerequisite!
This morning, seeking information, I read excerpts from A Standard Journey.
I laughed; tears trickled.
I ache for that journey.
The adrenaline hits throughout that extraordinary trip systematically peaked. One reviewer, upon finishing the story, stated, “I’m exhausted!”
Here’s an amusing scene that turned me into a panic-hopping lunatic for a few brief, terrifying moments!
‘Untie him, quick!’ I didn’t know what was happening, but I wanted him away from the fence. Noel held onto Dom as he continued the wheeze and then stopped. We all stood still for a moment waiting to see what would happen next. Then Dom stuck his front leg out, stiffened his entire body, and hissed out another agonising wheeze. ‘It’s okay, boy, steady, steady,’ Noel soothed as I checked Dom over. A few moments later ‐ another gasp. ‘Stay here, keep him calm, yell if it gets worse – really yell. I’m calling a vet.’ I bolted into the cottage, banging the doors, and frantically flicked through the phonebook. The second vet practice I rang answered. I explained Dom’s symptoms in a frantic breathless monologue. ‘He’s choking,’ the vet said. ‘It is a minor choke; he’ll be okay.’ He explained calmly, ‘Get a hose, turn on the water, not too fast, but a good run, put the hose in his mouth – a fair way back, but not so he’ll swallow it, but so you make him drink.’ ‘Right, right,’ I said, hopping from one foot to another. ‘Can you come if I need you?’ ‘No, I can’t. I’m sorry. This is a minor choke; this should work.’ In one movement I replaced the receiver, spun around, and ran for the door. Outside I grabbed the hose and turned the tap on. ‘He’s still the same,’ said Noel, who was noticeably paler. ‘He’s choking: we need to clear it. Hold him as still as you can,’ I yelled as I unravelled the hose, trying not to scare the other horses. I closed my hand around Dom’s chin, below his bottom lip, and lifted his head as high as I could. Without giving him or me time to think, I shoved the hose in his mouth. Noel and I fought to keep him still and steady the hose. Dom’s such a trusting, kind lad; he fidgeted but didn’t fight. The water cascaded down my front, down Noel’s back, but half flowed into Dom’s throat, and I heard a painful swallow. I pulled out the hose. The three of us stood together, puffing, dripping, looking at each other. Dom shook his head, then lowered it and started eating the grass, as if nothing had happened. ‘Good grief,’ Noel said, and that about summed it all up.
If my chest has expanded for each proud moment during last few months, I’d have a big chest.
With great fanfare, SisterShip Magazine was launched in April after 30 years in dry-dock. In June issue 2 was published and the comments, interest, and support were mind-blowing. August’s issue is well on the way.
A couple of weeks ago we softly launched our publishing website SisterShip Press Pty Ltd, with our search for women authors.
In the midst of all this, we also launched a short story competition based on fear – an author contacted me directly and thanked us for addressing an important subject.
Last month, with Noel, we celebrated 20 years of marriage, travelling, and an extraordinary life.
So with my big breasts, blown mind, busy fingers, marvellous husband, and neat business partner – I just want to say thanks. The ride-of-my-life continues…
First launched thirty years ago, SisterShip Magazine has been taken out of drydock, refitted, and is now ready to set sail. Our team has been busy in the ‘shipyard’ and we are about to untie the lines. We would love you to join us on our voyage!
SisterShip Magazine
Here is a taster of what is coming up – there are plenty of other surprises… don’t miss out, follow us on our Facebook Page or via our website, so you’ll be the first to know when the first issue is ready.
The colour pictures and “extraordinary adventures by two ordinary people” make a wonderful Christmas gift.
Of Foreign Build, This Is It, and A Standard Journey (colour paperback) are $19.99 each (+ postage) – just click on the book for more information – and if you’d like a copy, let me know.
If you do, you must join the FB group We Love Memoirs, and here’s why:
They are the friendliest group on FB
They regularly have fun competitions with FREEBIES!
There is constant laughter, fun, parties, and jokes posted by lovely people
There’s no self-promotion (authors cannot join just to advertise/market)
The group consists of both authors and many readers
So many recommendations – you will find just the book for you!
Friendship, support, help, and advice (if you’d like it) is freely available
They host weekly Sunday Spotlight LIVE interviews with authors… and…
THIS Sunday it is me!
We Love Memoirs is hosting my live interview this Sunday 1st October
TIME: The interview will start at 6 am AEST. DON’T forget, Aussies, the clocks spring forward Saturday night.
So, it’ll be easy to stop by – Saturday evening for UK/Europe, Saturday afternoon for most parts of the USA, Sunday all day for Aussies… and let’s see what happens.
I’ll take a couple of breaks to care for one of our horses with a cut leg – but that shouldn’t take too long. It’ll give you time to think up some curly questions for me!
Come along and say G’day. You need only join the group and then you can ask me ANYTHING you like, on ANY subject you like! Please share this where you can.
Here are some pictures to whet your appetite…
View for every occasion
The tough times, make the good times, so much better!
“You’re finally settling down?” Friends are intrigued.
“Well, no. We still travel but on home land, not foreign.” We explain.
I’ve discovered that travel is your mind’s view, not just your eyes’. Our own park-land replaces far-flung cultures. We still explore exotic communities, only this location fits better, like a warm, floppy jumper.
Moorea Island, Pacific Ocean
Now, the tender whicker from a happy horse saying g’day replaces the mellow swish of parting ocean waves.
The travel-music of boisterous, hull-pounding seas is usurped by sixteen strong hooves thundering against native grasses, feisty back-legs hurled in the air just for the hell of it! Their hoof-beats are my heart-beats.
Before, when watching thick fog roll over the vast plains of salt water to swallow us into its chilly wisps, my shoulders rose up to my ears as I tensed sensing unseen dangers. Now, as the mist claims our valley I calmly ignore the night-time brisk that nips at my extremities, and I witness the white swirls settle as a waterfall would slide into a river.
Mist rolling along our land under a full moon!
There’s no town illumination to dampen the cosmic display. The clear nights reveal mystifying galaxies that hang above us with such clarity that a sharp intake of breath could draw them in. The blackness is so silent we whisper, fearful that the glass stars may shatter.
Fragrant black coffee wafts through our tiny, temporary home, the steam rising in sync with the morning mist. The tang of sweet smelling grass, earthy mud, sun-cream, grainy horse feed, burning logs, damp socks – are the aromas of fulfillment.
The mileage may be limited, but not my journey or freedom. Seventy acres of undulating heaven needs care, as do we. The steep-hill-exercise will keep us fit and strong long into our dotage. We take care of the land, it takes care of us.
As I take in the surroundings, I notice the vibrant bush fights for supremacy along the ridges and tall trees become custodian to flitting birds; a playground of leafy limbs for our feathery friends.
Proud gums come alive with squawks and chirps. Rainbow lorikeets flash by, flapping fire-red, ocean-blue and deep-sea green; in a pause between the cacophony the Kookaburras cut the stillness with a hearty cackle, are they laughing at us?
The creek hums a lullaby as it roams along pink and grey rocks painting them a shiny black. The clear icy water strays along the sandy bed carving new paths after flood rain, pushing at reeds that wave a farewell.
We’re creating our own travel history on romantic moors and enticing peaks. I’m awash with besotted intrigue – what’s around the next corner? Is that a new tree? Beautiful weeds are classed as noxious. I fight for control pulling, bagging, burning the grasses that want to take over but are not permitted. It’s hard labour that keeps my butt tight with effort, just like the constant moving on a sailboat during our sea voyages.
On the land, marauding wombats scratch cavernous holes under the cover of darkness, leading into a labyrinth of tunnels, like giant rabbit warrens. Beneath the scorching sun, wedged-tailed eagles swoop on air currents, their splendid tableau unique to them. Ants scurry within their mounded battlefields ready to take on a giant human at a moment’s notice.
Evening comes too fast, but we greet her with a cool beer and dirt-smudged faces. My hands feel the stretch of dryness and the sting of cracks, sore muscles remind me that I’ve achieved middle-age, my torn, grubby clothes don’t matter because I wear a bright, satisfied smile.
Fireside beer
Travel changes you. You change while everything back at home stays the same. Here, at our home, there’s a surprising synchronicity – time, place and people are changing together. Noel and I are in harmony. A perfect choir of love.
But as with each journey, my soul is reshaped. I’ve bid farewell to places where I know I’ll miss the people and the lands, but also a part of me because I’ll never be that way again.
I wonder what part of me I’ll leave in which corner of our natural Disneyland. And what new thoughts and outlooks I’ll collect to replace what I’ve left behind; refreshing my layers with a view for every occasion.
———————————————-
My motto: ‘Be an encourager, there are far too many critics in the world already.’
Cruisers’ Accumulated Acumen is selling incredibly well and has been tagged by a top sailing magazine as, “…probably the most comprehensive reference book designed for preparation for cruising life.”
Here’s an excerpt from our book – which not only includes over 1,800 tips, tricks and ideas for living on board, but also informative and fun articles such as this…
Your grab bag, ditch kit, flee bag (sounds like my old dog), jump-and-go-bag should include stuff to measure your own priorities and capabilities. What would you need? Who is on board and where you are going? Does everyone on board know where it is?
Align your inclusions with distance. Seasons don’t count, anyone on the water knows you can experience all four seasons twice in one day. However, thinking about the sea temperature is important; hypothermia has an insatiable hunger. The sea gods also have an unquenchable greed and anything in your boat that you think you need should have a piece of string (lanyard) fitted, to give you a fighting chance of hanging on to it. Common sense, speedy reaction and lack of panic should be mentioned, although I am not sure how to pack those things. The bag obviously needs to be watertight and waterproof, a bright reflective colour is a good idea (boats don’t just sink during the day).
Each to their own; some people include their obituaries – how very odd . . .! Other cruising buddies suggest a book and a mattress! All very nice, but I can think of several more important items. I’d rather have an extra bottle of water than reading material.
The Obvious
At the very least have water, flares and attention grabbers, surviving is nice, but being rescued is even better. The ditch kit should contain items for immediate use and possibly some months. Short-term think injuries, hypothermia and signalling devices. Mid to long-term survival, think water and food. Are you going to make water or catch it? Can you catch fish? Provision for prevention of sun exposure is imperative if you don’t want to end up like a crisp.
How much?
I have seen lists for short-term (minutes to hours), mid-term (hours to days), medium-term (days to weeks) and long-term (weeks to months). All very useful but how do you know which bag to collect when your boat sinks? Do you take all four? Think necessity not holiday!
Can the bag be snatched quickly? Paperwork is a good one, your passports and boat papers have to be somewhere, why not in the grab bag? Add a few dollars (American dollars are the most widely accepted if you are travelling overseas). Think of all the bureaucratic bits of paper that cause major headaches and gnashing of teeth, if you had to replace them.
As terrifying as it sounds, one day you might need it; now’s the time to think carefully about what it should contain. Grab bags provide thought-provoking conversations to all boat people. (Young, ‘Include my favourite toy’, old, ‘Put in the fine Scotch dear’), both would argue that their life depends on it.
Research suggests forgetting everything you have seen in the movies, on TV and in novels. But I tend to disagree, who’s to say what happens – survivors of course, but what of those who don’t. That monumentally dramatised scene could be precisely what happens. We’ve met a survivor whose boat took fifteen minutes to sink. He had ‘all the time in the world’ to grab stuff from cupboards. He now thinks all boats take this long to be swallowed in to the deep. Most of us know a story where a boat vanishes within seconds; those brief moments may give you enough time to grab your survival bag.
Our Bag
We have one big bag on our boat, which ideally should be split in two (1) Absolute necessities and (2) Necessities. However, it’s not and at the time of writing we are firmly welded to a mooring (for now). Our bag includes years of ideas gleaned from chatting to other people on boats as to ‘what’s in yours?’. It has (in no particular order): survival suits, sunglasses, wind up torch, handheld radio (VHF) and spare batteries, Spirulina (nutrient source in powder form), survival sheets (space blankets), hand Watermaker, toilet roll, water, string, fishing hooks/line, signalling mirror, knife, seasick tablets, First Aid with extra strong painkillers, flares, sanitary products, wet/baby wipes, tea towel, plastic bags, sea marker dye, lighter, paperwork (passports/boat papers/money), sunscreen, t-shirts, whistle, barley sugar, handheld GPS and batteries.
Diving into the bag after a year I am surprised to see that the wet wipes are still moist and the Spirulina still edible (mind you, it does look and smell remarkably like mould – even when new). Clearly, batteries should be replaced regularly, as should water in plastic bottles (leeching). Sunscreen and tablets/pills will have use by dates to be aware of too. We have spent over three weeks at sea in one go and been 1,500 miles from the nearest land, hence a fairly comprehensive bag. In compiling our kit, we gave careful thought to all the yummy stuff already included in our life-raft when it was last surveyed. Our EPIRBs are mounted in the boat, perhaps one should have been in the bag. Now, I would also include the Leatherman and some cereal bars. But the bag is heavy already.
Watermaker
Our small Watermaker was purchased in America (US$600). In Puerto Rico we met a guy who spent 66 days in a life-raft, in the Pacific Ocean, with his wife. They were attacked and holed by a pod of whales, ‘they were so lovely, riding alongside us and suddenly they turned . . .’ (Note to self: do not enjoy company of whales, turn on engine and shoot flares into water if same happens). He claims that they would be dead if they had not had the Watermaker in their grab bag. Before setting sail into the mighty Pacific, we purchased one. The emotions of coughing up the equivalent of almost a thousand Australian dollars were an odd mix; unwillingness to part with a large chunk of our cruising budget, conflicting with the thought that should we find our lives depended on it, it would seem a remarkably small amount of money. The Watermaker is still in its bag, unused and lonely, long may it remain so!
Other suggestions from friends:
My humble opinion
Chemical heat packs
Space blanket is smaller and works well
Petroleum jelly
A necessity?
Book to read
Really?
Wool and rubber work gloves
Maybe one pair
Enema sack for rehydration
I’d rather drink the water
Inflatable splints
Great idea
Repair kit
Already in life-raft
Swiss Army knife, sharpening stone, tube of oil.
Make sure knife is sharp to start with
Sextant
Way too hard to use in life-raft
Sponges
In life-raft already
Chemical light sticks
Good idea
Navigation kit
Maybe
Sea anchor
Good idea
Dried fruit and chocolate
I’d never say no to chocolate (ensure fruit is not already in chocolate – this stuff can really go off)
Survival ship’s biscuits
Good idea
Multiple vitamins
A necessity?
Small plankton net
Hmmmm
Photocopies of all essential crew documents
Yup(or the originals)
Shore survival items in case you land in an uninhabited island: waterproof matches, flint, wire saw
It’s all getting a bit much
Self-inflating foam pad or air mattress
What about a snugly blanket and a cuddly teddy bear too – really . . . !
Spare prescription glasses
Good idea – these are in our life-raft
Pack all gear into separate waterproof bags
Not a bad idea
We hope you found this article useful. It was compiled with ideas from many different cruisers and survivors. They all openly expressed their survival considerations, experience and concerns.
June’s travel writing competition, that Robert Fear hosts, attracted many talented writers. This morning I received notification that I won this month.
They are all short stories related to travel – some of the yarns will surprise you, all will delight you.
Here’s a copy of my story, click here to read the others, you won’t be disappointed.
“You’re finally settling down?” Friends are intrigued.
“Well, no. We still travel but on home land, not foreign.” We explain.
I’ve discovered that travel is your mind’s view, not just your eyes’. Our own park-land replaces far-flung cultures. We still explore exotic communities, only this location fits better, like a warm, floppy jumper.
Now, the tender whicker from a happy horse saying g’day replaces the mellow swish of parting ocean waves.
The travel-music of boisterous, hull-pounding seas is usurped by sixteen strong hooves thundering against native grasses, feisty back-legs hurled in the air just for the hell of it! Their hoof-beats are my heart-beats.
Before, when watching thick fog roll over the vast plains of salt water to swallow us into its chilly wisps, my shoulders rose up to my ears as I tensed sensing unseen dangers. Now, as the mist claims our valley I calmly ignore the night-time brisk that nips at my extremities, and I witness the white swirls settle as a waterfall would slide into a river.
There’s no town illumination to dampen the cosmic display. The clear nights reveal mystifying galaxies that hang above us with such clarity that a sharp intake of breath could draw them in. The blackness is so silent we whisper, fearful that the glass stars may shatter.
Fragrant black coffee wafts through our tiny, temporary home, the steam rising in sync with the morning mist. The tang of sweet smelling grass, earthy mud, sun-cream, grainy horse feed, burning logs, damp socks – are the aromas of fulfillment.
The mileage may be limited, but not my journey or freedom. Seventy acres of undulating heaven needs care, as do we. The steep-hill-exercise will keep us fit and strong long into our dotage. We take care of the land, it takes care of us.
As I take in the surroundings, I notice the vibrant bush fights for supremacy along the ridges and tall trees become custodian to flitting birds; a playground of leafy limbs for our feathery friends.
Proud gums come alive with squawks and chirps. Rainbow lorikeets flash by, flapping fire-red, ocean-blue and deep-sea green; in a pause between the cacophony the Kookaburras cut the stillness with a hearty cackle, are they laughing at us?
The creek hums a lullaby as it roams along pink and grey rocks painting them a shiny black. The clear icy water strays along the sandy bed carving new paths after flood rain, pushing at reeds that wave a farewell.
We’re creating our own travel history on romantic moors and enticing peaks. I’m awash with besotted intrigue – what’s around the next corner? Is that a new tree? Beautiful weeds are classed as noxious. I fight for control pulling, bagging, burning the grasses that want to take over but are not permitted. It’s hard labour that keeps my butt tight with effort, just like the constant moving on a sailboat during our sea voyages.
On the land, marauding wombats scratch cavernous holes under the cover of darkness, leading into a labyrinth of tunnels, like giant rabbit warrens. Beneath the scorching sun, wedged-tailed eagles swoop on air currents, their splendid tableau unique to them. Ants scurry within their mounded battlefields ready to take on a giant human at a moment’s notice.
Evening comes too fast, but we greet her with a cool beer and dirt-smudged faces. My hands feel the stretch of dryness and the sting of cracks, sore muscles remind me that I’ve achieved middle-age, my torn, grubby clothes don’t matter because I wear a bright, satisfied smile.
Travel changes you. You change while everything back at home stays the same. Here, at our home, there’s a surprising synchronicity – time, place and people are changing together. Noel and I are in harmony. A perfect choir of love.
But as with each journey, my soul is reshaped. I’ve bid farewell to places where I know I’ll miss the people and the lands, but also a part of me because I’ll never be that way again.
I wonder what part of me I’ll leave in which corner of our natural Disneyland. And what new thoughts and outlooks I’ll collect to replace what I’ve left behind; refreshing my layers with a view for every occasion.
Jackie Parry - author 