If you had one year to do anything you wanted, what would you do? For my dad, the answer was simple. Ever since he was my age, he had dreamed of buying a boat and travelling the oceans. Years passed but the aspiration never faded and by the 15th of December 2016, my family and I were on our way.
We left our home at 5am on the 15th. My eyes stung as I said goodbye to Mocci, our beautiful golden Labrador. She was old but I wished more than anything that she would be here, a year later, when we returned. A van darker than the inky black sky arrived to take us to the airport but everything seemed surreal, even after months of planning and preparation, I still couldn’t believe that we were really doing this. That we were about to leave our home for a year and travel an ocean. The city blazed, pillars of multi-coloured lights in the heights. Reaching the international wing of the airport, I exchanged glances with my siblings - E, H and J - all who looked just as nervous as I was. On the other hand, dad’s excitement was practically contagious. His lifelong dream was about to come true, the culmination of years of hard work and persistence. As we waited in the line to check in, a familiar, smiling voice called out. Turning around I saw our Nan, at the airport, at around 7am, there to say her goodbyes. She lives over three hours away. Making our way through the snake of a queue, we entered the main body of the airport. About one hour later, we were at the gate for our flight. For the second time in a day, my vision blurred and my throat closed as gestured farewell to Nana for what I thought would be last time for a year. At last, it struck me that we were really leaving Australia and, as I waved farewell, not only was I saying goodbye to family, I was saying goodbye to my home.
On the 16th of December, we moved onto our boat, Be and Be. It was a very long December. Films of dust coated almost every surface and before we could unpack, we spent days vigorously cleaning. Around the 20th, we made our first friends. Two British kids, one of them my age and the other a bit older than J, both adorned with matching freckles and golden-brown hair heard us speaking English (this was obviously a rarity for kids in a French speaking country, especially outside of boating season) and approached with their parents. Dylan and Jayden (oldest to youngest respectively) had lived on a boat called Sangvind for almost their entire lives and they seemed to make new friends with ease. We spent Christmas (and the next week or two) with our new friends, adapting to life on our boat. The heat slowly became more bearable and the boat life felt more normal every day.
Months passed and we made more friends, visited more islands and more and more became used to living on our new home. At the time of July 4th, we were in Fiji in a place called Viani Bay. Our friends, Eleanor and Hannah (off a boat called Skylark), had come recently and we were catching up for the month or two that we had gone separate ways. The bay was beautiful, deep blue water with lush mountains surrounding it and, even better, we had three bars of Wi-Fi (a rarity in the South Pacific). But that wasn’t why we were there, we (my mum, E, H and I (J was too young)) were going to learn to dive. From the first day, I took to the water like a fish. The was something about the thrill of breathing underwater (no matter what apparatus was used) that left me wanting more. It was freedom, floating in zero-gravity, enveloped in the cool blue. We spent the days diving and practising and the evenings doing theory work and playing with our friends. About three days into the course, we were going to do our first ocean dive. So far, we had simply been practising skills off the beach, the water murky and still so we were in for a surprise. The dive site was a place called Nuku Reef and after a 30-minute boat ride, we arrived. I didn’t know what to expect, but what we saw was beyond my imagination. Six metres under the water, my eyes widened in wonder. Fish, every shade of the spectrum, darted around and coral formed walls of colour, keeping the current out. I found it almost too easy to lose myself in the beauty of it all, almost subconsciously checking my air and buoyancy as we swam. Many more dives followed and when given the opportunity, I took it one step further by doing an advanced diving course in the same week. Diving gave me a sense of freedom that was inimitable.
More time passed and we, the people of Be and Be, found ourselves at the small island of Tanna, Vanuatu. Pulling in and anchoring near the Australian boat Ooroo, we spent the rest of the day in our home as we would be quarantined until the next day. The bay of Port Resolution really was beautiful, the water was a lovely shade of turquoise, jagged cliffs towered above the boats on one side and ashy (I mean that quite literally, the majority of the land consisted of volcano ash) hills on the other. Occasionally, jets of steam would appear in various locations on the Cliffside as a result of the hot-springs and as the sky darkened each night, the tyrannous volcano above would glow an angry red. Only a few days later, my family and I, along with Mike and Leanne off Ooroo, found ourselves at the top of Mt. Yasur (an active volcano). You could taste the excitement, bubbly and sweet, as tangible as the scent of sulphur in the wind. It was an arduous and probably unsafe trek up the ashy terrain but as we made it to the top, everything, our exhaustion, the money we paid, instantly became worthwhile. Molten rock glowed bright red with heat as it spurted out into a massive crater. Cracks louder than thunder echoed across the hills and I was in total awe. The sun eventually sank between the mountains and night fell, only making the sight more spectacular. The altitude should have been freezing but I couldn’t find myself feeling cold. The volcano was unpredictable, a spectacle that struck fear and reverence in the hearts of us, mere mortals. It was the most amazing thing I had ever done.
The ocean was still, no land in sight. We were on our way from New Caledonia to Australia. It was surreal, knowing that we would be in our home country in a few days, knowing that our trip was coming to an end. It was the second longest passage yet, at a total of five days at sea, and there was no wind to propel us. The rumble of engines was constant for all but one day. My birthday. On the 31st of October, one day before we arrived in the Land Down Under (coincidentally, we were entering the country as a part of the Down Under Boat Rally), the wind picked up, the seas churned and we spent most of the day surfing the waves and trying not to feel sick. On the 1st of November, at around 12pm, we docked (much more expertly than we would have at the start of the trip) in Bundaberg Port Marina, Australia. Our home. We were back. Though we had another month or so until our journey would come to an end, there was a tightness in my throat and a sting behind my eyes. The boat had become my life and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
From wishing nothing more than to stay home to not wanting to go back, Be and Be, and the adventures in which we partook, changed my life. I would not be who I am today without that one, unique year. I have changed, we all changed. My beliefs and views on the world have been reformed and I understand the place we live in much better. Dreams can come true, all you have to do is work for it.
‘Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better but I have been changed for good’
– For Good, Wicked (the musical).