"Cairns hasn't had a cyclone for 11 years," at least that's what the locals say.
Dylan might've been the first person in Cairns to catch wind of Cyclone Jasper's approach. We were laying in our bunks in the saloon watching some low-commitment movie and Dylan was scouring the weather radars, getting familiar with the region's weather patterns. "That's a pretty big low out there" he remarked.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, have a look... it's over the Solomons for a week. I reckon that's gonna be a cyclone."
Look, initially we weren't too concerned. Cyclone Jasper was labelled a category two and was predicted to track down the coast and miss Cairns entirely. Dylan had faced a category two before and felt somewhat confident in tackling one again... even if we lived on a boat. As the week passed we followed Jasper's development. It was now predicted to make landfall in only four days and had gathered force over the 1000 nautical miles to the East, just as Dylan had seen it, and it was soon upgraded from a category two, to a category three, and then category four. The new predicted radar was tracking straight towards Cairns.
A few nerves set in and we began making plans for storing extra drinking water, keeping the dogs calm and safe, unfurling and bringing in all of our sails, purchasing and hanging extra fenders, waterproofing anywhere that leaked onboard, lashing our new dinghy down to the deck, fortifying any structural elements of the boat that were pivotal in Adelsa's safety, and doubling all of our mooring lines.
We were calm and ready.
Friends and family messaged concerned about our plans to keep ourselves and the boys safe, to which we responded as politely and comprehensively that we were doing everything that we could and were trying our best to maintain that composed-focus that only adrenaline can inspire. My Dad, currently halfway through his own atlantic crossing promised to call as soon as he got to the Carribean (in four days time).
Living on a boat, even if it's still a construction site, brings with it an unparralelled connection to the weather and stars. It can be stiflingly hot during the day, roley in the wind, beautifully tranquil at night with stars reflected on the water's surface, and the bumps and bubbles that little fish make as they nibble bits that have grown on the hull. It's a life deeply connected to nature.
It is also a life that is further from my loved ones than I have ever been. I can't have coffee or listen to the radio and look at old pictures with my Dad, I can't hug and kiss my friends or family, and I can't catch up with any of them when I am feeling sad and know that they will make me laugh. I can't do any of those things and yet I feel closer to all of them than I have ever been. I am living a life that I know would make my Dad proud. A little scared, yes, but also proud. Proud that I'm following my dream even when it scares me. I am proud of myself for keeping in touch with my friends even though they are far away, for catching up for face-time-wine and knitting, or just to vent about the frustrations of our days. I'm proud of myself for moving somewhere that is hot and tropical when I was scared of so many things that could go wrong, and for doing it with Wally too... and actually... I'm even proud of myself for working and living a life that is worthy of writing a blog at the same time. There has been a good portion of time that it felt too boring or unneccesary to document the things that were happening, but this life, right now, seems worth it.
Sorry for the sentimentality, category four's will do that to a person.
I hope to document Jasper's visit too and will share the good news following his departure. Wish us luck and keep your fingers and toes crossed for us.
Catch you on the other side!
Love you all Tate x
