Volume Two Number Five

08 January 2007 (last edition of 2006) 12.8 pages, 7,501 words

In This Edition: Spiritual Questions, Engine Failure, Mutiny, Arrest, Gnawing Boredom, Torture by Needle and Thread, Spiritual Answers (?), Arrival at Home

I began writing this amazingly long email on Saturday morning, December 2nd, reaching back a few days. Then the adventures became so intense that this newsletter took the form of a daily journal. I guess it finished up that way, though at greater intervals between entries. I have been as accurate as possible in recounting my experiences; no embellishment has been necessary. This might be the longest Adventures email I’ve yet written; perhaps printing it out will help, if you’re so inclined. And I thought the trip home would be boring. . .

Thank you all for your prayers and support while I was away on this mission to Israel. I have received many emails since I have been away, and after this message has been sent to the masses, I will begin individual replies.

I have about two-thousand digital pictures taken by six or seven different people, and any one of them is available upon request: Jerusalem, Dead Sea, Me, Sea of Galilee, Rust, Cargo, sunsets at sea, Rock of Gibraltar, Canary Islands, even the log cabin in Chelan where I hope to be settling fairly soon. Jus lemme know.

Saturday, 02 December

Where is the line between the physical and the spiritual? Do they exist side by side with a clearly defined boundary, or is it fuzzy? What affect does the one have on the other? And vice versa? Have you ever heard the story of Jonah? How about Achan? Do these kinds of stories have any relevance today?

Consider the story of Achan. The Israelites under the leadership of Joshua had just conquered the city of Jericho. All precious metals were to be brought into the treasury, and everything else burned. Achan was aware of this order, but he looked both ways furtively and then stuffed his pockets with some plunder from the city. The next time the Israelites went to battle, they were routed by a smaller force, and thirty-six Israelite soldiers died. God revealed to Joshua that someone in the camp had stolen and lied, and the error must be rectified before they would have victory again. Achan came forward and confessed his transgression. He paid the price for his mistake with his life, and the Israelites went forward to victory again.

This seems like a pretty harsh story. God has zero tolerance for sin. I think this story reveals the character of God and why He sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. But does it have any further implications today? Is it only an allegory pointing toward our need of a savior, or would God, for example, prevent a shipload of Christians from crossing the Atlantic because there was unconfessed sin in their midst?

As I was pondering these issues Thursday night, keeping them quietly to myself – they are admittedly rather disturbing thoughts – a crew member approached me to tell me of the dream he had been having the past couple nights. “Captain, I dreamt that we were going to spend three months in the Canary Islands. And also, we shouldn’t try to cross the Atlantic if there is still anything wrong with the engine.” There was more; a warm welcome, tying up by an old warehouse at an unused pier and local help working on the ship.

I’m not exactly what you would call well versed in the prophetic. Lots of folks claim to have words from God, but I reckon the actual number of words spoken by God is far less than claimed. And dreams? Dreams of the future? Revealed by God? I don’t know, I’m just really skeptical of these kinds of things, sorry. The dreamer did not claim to have received any special message from God, he just wanted to share. Well, okay, we’ll see how everything pans out.

We have been having quite a bit of trouble with the main engine since we left Israel. The closed fresh water engine cooling system needed constant refilling. This is not a good thing, like your car’s radiator needing to be refilled every 25 miles or so. We limped along for a couple hundred miles over the deepest stretch of the Mediterranean, chugging along with one cylinder of six cut out due to a suspected crack in the head. As we neared Malta, I spied a sea mount on the chart shallow enough for us to drop the hook – Hurd’s Bank – a little bump like an island below the sea about 9 miles off the coast of Malta. 48 hours later, we weighed anchor, having replaced two heads, each with a sizeable crack.

While in anchored off Malta the crew gathered for prayer a few times. Here’s the general theme of our prayers: “Dear God, please help the engineers fix the engine, we want to be home for Christmas, amen.”

The engineers repaired the engine and it purred like a kitten all the way to the Straits of Gibraltar. We cruised through the straits on an ebb current; our timing could not have been any better. Daily average speeds were high enough that we’d be back in the States in time for most of the crew to reach their homes for Christmas. The trouble started again when we began sucking fuel from #4 centerline fuel tank.

(We get together as a crew every morning at 0645 for “Morning Refreshing.” Off watch and day workers attend this Bible study/prayer time, while there is another at 1100 for the rest of the watch standers. I had been sensing the growing discontentment in the crew and anxiety about our time of arrival back in the States. We claimed to want God’s timing, but in truth just wanted God’s timing to be our own. Thursday morning I prayed, as the captain and spiritual representative of the crew to God, that we would rather be right with God than home for Christmas. Yes, we want to be home for Christmas, but our relationship with God is our true priority. I prayed that if we needed more work done in our hearts, we were willing to take as much time on the ship as necessary to get it done.)

The fuel in #4 was more like petroleum mud than actual fuel. The purifier had to be stopped and cleaned every fifteen minutes. We didn’t need to change fuel filters one time during the entire east bound voyage, but now we were changing filters about once a day. We switched out of #4, but too late, it seems. Fuel injectors started fouling and plugging. My goodness, you’ve never heard such a racket as a big diesel clang-bang-slam-crash-rumble-roaring with a dirtied fuel system. We stopped to change two injectors, and fired back up again. A day later and the clang-bang-slam-crash-rumble-roaring had resumed.

Why didn’t I stop the use of the dirty fuel earlier? Didn’t I understand the consequences of trying to run on an impure power source? It’s just easier, I suppose. I figured the engineers knew what they were doing. I have had limited experience in these matters. I’ve never been on a ship that had dirty fuel, let alone one that tried to burn it. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll never permit it again, you can be sure of that.

The ship went DIW, dead in the water, on Thursday at 1330. Cylinder 4 was determined to be the source of the rumble-roar-slam-crash-clang-banging. We changed the injector 6 times. We changed the fuel pump. We torqued the head. We checked the timing. We cleaned the scavenging air valves. During any given task of multiple steps, three quarters of them would give us trouble. It took five attempts before we successfully exchanged the fuel pump. Little things, piddly nuisances kept obstructing and slowing our progress. I went to bed at 0200. The engine started again at 0440 Friday morning.

It was still bang-slam-crash-rumble-roaring. Turns out the rings were shot. Compression gasses were rushing past the piston and into the crankcase. Ah, that would explain it then. Well, we can limp along on five cylinders again. But do we want to? Is that the right way to do it? The engine is designed to run on six, should it not run on six? Why do we ever put up with just getting by, especially in our spiritual life? Our spirits will live longer than our bodies, if you give any credit to the idea of eternity. Does this not make the spiritual more important than the physical?

My chief mate and second mate approached me just after lunch on Friday. With visible efforts to maintain control, my second mate politely demanded permission to fly home from the Canary Islands. Early fifties, a licensed 1600 ton master with experience on crab boats in Alaska, he declared the ship unseaworthy and wanted off at the nearest port. My chief mate, in his early sixties with a bright white beard that I sincerely envy and licensed as a 100 ton master with experience on passenger vessels in the Great Lakes concurred in the estimation of unseaworthiness. He did not indicate that he would be flying home also until I approached him Saturday evening and asked directly.

Both men have demonstrated even less patience than I during this slow, malfunction plagued west bound voyage. The urge to be home in time for Christmas had practically expressed itself in groans and tears.

Consider this: Thanksgiving, the worst night of the entire westbound trip for me so far. The evening began to deteriorate at about 1630 as a young man with a more active mouth than any human I have ever known, a true case of logorrhea, came to my office and started talking. I could go on about this, but suffice to say, it ended badly as his criticisms of me reached a point I was no longer willing to tolerate and I ran him off with shouting.

To cool down, I thought I’d poke my head into the wind from my porthole on the starboard side. As I did so, a massive container ship, just like the first ship I ever sailed on, came hurtling by much too close for my comfort. I hurried to the bridge and asked my chief mate the range of the overtaking container ship. He seemed not to know it was there, but managed to discover it might be the one at 0.7 miles. My standing orders require that I be called if 1.0 miles cannot be maintained for meeting or overtaking vessels.

I asked him why he had not called me, and he said that he thought it was safe. This is not a decision for him to make, however, and I told him as much with a raised voice in front of his watch standers. (I was already riled from before, recall.) What would he require of his watch officers on his boats in Michigan? He too would expect obedience to his standing orders, right?!

After his watch ended I was surprised to find this note on my door: “Dear Captain Jake, I request to be relieved of my duties as Chief Mate. Because of my insubordination and for the safety of the crew and ship. John Doe”

Have you ever had that feeling of heat in your belly that rises to your face, and it’s not the feeling of romantic love? Yeah, the whole psychosomatic anger response thing welled up within me, and just as I was settling down, of course. On my first trip as captain on the Mersea I had to fire my chief mate for insubordination, and now I have one quitting on me? I’m not exactly getting off to what you might call a good start in the whole being a captain business.

I drafted my reply, photocopied it, and kept the original for myself. Here is what I wrote: “Dear Mr. Doe, Request denied. All I ask is to be called IAW (in accordance with) the standing orders. If this request is because I embarrassed you on the bridge, I’m sorry. You’ll live. Captain Jake Beaty” Then I decided to scratch out the “you’ll live” bit before returning his letter.

My chief mate told me the morning after Thanksgiving, when I sought reconciliation with him, that he was glad I had not accepted his resignation. He was just desirous of being home for Christmas and didn’t think we’d make it, so he allowed himself to become distracted. I have an excel file on my computer that calculates arrival dates for four different speeds as well as current average speed and speed required for a specific date. I told him we could be home by the 20th if we only made 9.29 knots, well within the range of possibility.

I had reconciled myself to celebrating Christmas on some date other than December 25th, but still I pushed the ship as hard as I was allowed to get my crew home in time. I did, and do, have a strong desire to see my family and escape to the evergreen forests of Washington State. Throw the mildly goal-oriented personality that I have into the mix, and maybe you have a bad decision to continue rumbling out into the Atlantic.

Hard Left. I turned the ship toward the Canary Islands Friday afternoon, December 1st. Not only are the rings shot in cylinder #4, but the liner is leaking as well. Cooling water is bubbling up around the seal between the liner and the block at the rate of about half a gallon a minute. Saturday morning the motor generator set, which turns DC power as generated by our ship’s service generators into AC power, burst into flames. The brushes had been sparking for some time, getting worse and worse, but no one bothered to inform me. I even heard about the fire indirectly. That kind of fired me up.

I’ve never been to the Canary Islands, didn’t even really know where they were exactly until I sailed on by in my ship. I don’t have any good charts of the area. The best paper chart I have is an overview of all of the islands, and my electronic chart shows a few brown polygons on a blue background. No idea where the shallow spots are – these are generally to be avoided – unless of course you want to anchor, but then you want them just shallow enough.

My “Sailing Directions” indicates a harbor with a decent anchorage on La Palma, but there’s nothing about it in my “Guide to Port Entry.” The Sailing Directions is focused on navigation, the Guide to Port Entry is focused on administrative issues, listing paperwork requirements, etc. The Guide to Port Entry has information on Santa Cruz de Tenerife, but the Sailing Directions says the water is too deep around the island for us to anchor - we’d have to tie up pier side. The next closest island is 48 miles further on, with a decent anchorage and information in the Guide to Port Entry.

This is a tough decision to make! I have to get my ship into port for repairs and disembarkation of crew members, but I don’t want to get it arrested! Tying up alongside a pier always presents this danger with a funky ship such as ours. When crew member S08 smashed the living snot out of her thumb just as we rounded the point of the island of Tenerife, my decision was made for me.

S08 is our laundry lady, 68 years old, and it turns out, struggles with maintaining her balance. I was toasting a piece of the very excellent Basque Shepherd’s Bread that our third mate bakes when the ship’s nurse passed my name over the Public Address system. It was about 1700.

I walked forward in the passageway on the starboard side and saw big blops of bright red blood on the deck outside the clinic. I am so squeamish it’s not even funny. I whack my own finger a teeny bit and I pass out. I had to be revived with smelling salts during the blood taking process of a physical. I thank my dad for this trait.

S08 was sitting on a chair in the clinic holding her right hand in her lap. All the color was drained from her face and she struggled to remain upright. I carefully opened the giant gauze pad wrapping her hand, praying for strength the whole time. She had closed her left thumb in a door jam. The nail (my stomach churns even now to recount this) had separated from her thumb at the root. The flesh was pulled over the end of her thumb like a sweatshirt hood partially thrown back. Only a 3/8” section of skin on the underside held the hood in place. Bone was not exposed, but it was definitely broken.

I directed the nurse to clear the bed and help me get S08 over to it. We propped up her arm with pillows, supporting her hand aloft with a gauze suspension system, and putting ice packs on her head. I brought in a crew member to pray for S08 and returned to my toast and then the bridge to navigate my vessel into waters effectively uncharted as the sun began to set.

Tenerife Vessel Traffic Control called on the radio at about 1830 to inform us that we were not in the traffic separation scheme. I responded that we did not have a chart and asked if he could direct us to the scheme. He repeated that we needed to look at the chart and get in the lane because it had gone into effect on December 1st, yesterday. I told him we’d get the chart when we pulled in, but for now, goodness, we were so sorry, we’ll do better next time. There wasn’t a bit of traffic to be seen, I’m not sure why they even have a separation scheme.

The home office had been frantically searching for an agent since we turned the ship around on Friday, and they still had not had any success as we neared within two hours of our port. They were exceptionally reluctant to pull into port; they desired earnestly that we just anchor outside the port. The trouble is, the anchorage was a sand bottom at 60 to 80 meters. This would give a scope of chain to water depth ratio of less than 4, far too small for a sand bottom if the wind were to blow at all. For the safety of the ship, I really didn’t have any options. I had to put into port.

It was 2200 before negotiations between our agent (the port has one that gets to deal with all vessels making emergency arrivals) and home office were completed. The pilot came out shortly after and helped us tie up uneventfully. We had drifted for a few hours off the coast, the lights of the city on the hillside burning brightly. I prayed for legions of angels to surround us and protect us, but I still felt uneasy and in over my head to be responsible for so much and making decisions like this.

Sunday, 03 December

It sure doesn’t seem like there’s very much to the dream, especially now that we’re here in Tenerife. We’re not tied up next to the old warehouse on the unused pier, and the fees look like they might be outrageous. If we can just get our work done and get out of here, we’ll be alright.

The chief mate and second mate departed the vessel this morning, bag and baggage. I told the second mate that we’d call a taxi for them and have them taken to the inexpensive hotel. “Oh, you don’t have to get the hotel for us, we can pay for it.” I had to stifle my anger as I replied, “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not paying for your hotel. I’m just calling the taxi for you. As soon as you leave the ship, you’re on your own.”

Crew member E08 has been another one of the most anxious to get home in time for Christmas. He called his family today and spoke to his brother. Apparently his grandfather on his mother’s side died of a heart attack one week ago and his father collapsed onto the bathroom floor just the night before. His father was in the hospital, but he had no word on how he was doing. To add insult to injury, the family had to get rid of his dog while he was away. Gosh, it makes me reluctant to check in on my own family. There’d be nothing that I could do if there were any problems at home.

E08, however, could fly home. So, I went with him to the airport to help him make the necessary arrangements. I tried my ATM card at four different ATM’s unsuccessfully to obtain cash for the taxi driver. I kept thinking to myself that God would not permit a person to step out in faith and then refuse to put something under his foot for a landing. I was going with E08 to the airport, and I needed cash to get him there. Surely God knew this and would have provided some answer. I asked E08 if I could borrow his phone card to call my bank and find out if we could get cash somehow.

E08 then told me that someone had given him a wad of bills just before he left the ship. This benefactor had said that Gold told him to give the money to E08. I looked at the amount and was sure that it would be enough. God provided the way after all, the landing zone under the footstep taken in faith. We showed the face of a bill to the taxi driver and he consented to take us to the farthest away of the two airports. We of course learned this only after we spoke with the ticket agent at the airport.

Ticketed and directed to the proper gate, E08 was on his way home. I told him to call his family and tell them he was on the way. Maybe it was good that we pulled in when we did.

More than maybe, it was definitely good that we pulled in when we did. Upon removing the doors to the crankcase, we discovered that the journal bearing on #4 was blown to smithereens. The rings were fine. The connecting rod had been riding directly on the crankshaft journal for who knows how long. Metal on metal, no bearing, connecting rod loose and flailing, some fairly significant damage was wreaked on the piston cooling oil system and wrist pin lubricator. Crikey! Why didn’t we discover this earlier?!

The piston will need to be hung, having the connecting rod removed, and we’ll need to sail home on five cylinders. Yes, we’ve talked about how this is not ideal, but we don’t have the necessary equipment to swap out the liner or turn the journal. The engine can run on five until we get home to complete a proper overhaul. They tell me the engine can actually run on three cylinders, it’s just a little harder to get started. If everything goes as planned, we should be able to sail at 1000 on Tuesday morning.

Monday, 04 December

The engine has been repaired enough to make it home. It’s all put back together and runs with a pleasant cloppity-clop sound, like a galloping horse. We “bumped” all the other bearings in the engine, and they’re all within tolerance, less than twenty thousandths of wiggle. The engineers have worked hard all through the night and day, making the efforts necessary to get us home safely and certainly. I can’t think of anything else that needs to be done. Everything is in order and there is really nothing to hold us here any longer.

S08 and her husband, E04, left the ship this morning. That brings our total loss of crewmembers to five. S08 was doing poorly, her thumb aching and throbbing intensely. The medicines she was prescribed have Spanish names and details are in Spanish. She is diabetic and I was very concerned about sailing back across the ocean with her. If infection were to develop and get out of hand in the middle of the Atlantic, I would be the one responsible. I wondered how hard to lean on her about leaving the ship, but her husband was a valuable member of the engineering department. After much prayer and deliberation, the engine fixed, they decided to fly home. This lessened my worries quite a bit, but we needed a qualified engineer.

I asked the office to send one of the established couples within the ministry, and quicker than I ever would have imagined, they agreed. The couple was in the air before I received the email reply indicating that they would be coming. This would delay our sailing until 2200 on Tuesday, but I didn’t think that would be a problem. As soon as they get here, we’ll cast off the lines and be on our way.

I went hiking today with four others from the ship. Goodness, it was such a fun time! Tenerife is a mountainous island, and mostly green, though very rocky. The geology is very fascinating - layers of loose chunky sediment covered with a thick slab of melted rock and then more layers of loose sediment and compacted conglomerate. The flowers were lovely, and the sea breeze was refreshing in the heat.

We hiked to the top of a short steep peak overlooking the harbor and our cute little ship. We hiked up and beyond to a couple other peaks also before heading down for grub. I have often climbed peaks in the vicinity of my ship, or ridden to the top of them on my bike, but always alone. It was really quite a bit more fun in the group.

Tuesday, 05 December

Today was one of the most challenging days of my entire young life. Two inspectors from Port State Control came on board the ship around 0900 this morning. I think they were gunning for me from the beginning, but I did not perceive it. They were wolves in sheep’s clothing. Dealing with foreign inspectors is a new thing for me. In the Naval Auxiliary we give the world the finger. No one can tell us what to do, and any inspections we undergo, we’re prepared for.

The whole nature of the inspection was conducted in bad faith. The visit did not last more than 15 minutes and the inspectors made assumptions without seeking additional information. I did not understand the inspectors’ requests due to the language barrier, and they construed this as non-compliance. They submitted a list of findings to their supervisor once they returned to their office, but never gave a preliminary copy to me before leaving the ship. Some items listed as discrepancies would not be substantiated with further investigation. The inspectors also left the description of deficiencies purposely vague, so as to give themselves plenty of room to later determine what they actually meant. This vessel is safe and complies with the regulations administered by the United States Coast Guard for US Flag fishing vessels. They don’t recognize us as a fishing vessel, however, and insist that we must comply with the regulations that apply to European cargo vessels.

I called the agent shortly after they left, a feeling of deep uneasiness settling in my stomach. He figured they were just blustering, talking and threatening because they had nothing better to do. Within the hour, however, he called to say that we needed to go visit the Port Captain in his office. I gathered my certificate book and legal paperwork, bolted a few prayers heavenward and waited for the agent’s taxi driver to whisk me off with squealing tires.

Capitania Maritima de Tenerife, Antonio Padron y Santiago, is a large man. His dense, well-trimmed salt and pepper goatee is the distinguishing feature of a mostly circular face. I was in his office for three days this afternoon. The lead inspector, Carlos Gallo, a man with very, very bad teeth, was also there, as was our agent. English was spoken mostly, although always with an accent to my ears, sometimes haltingly, and often times requiring effort to make out.

It was there in the Port Captain’s office that I learned that I was being fined 12,000 euro for not submitting a piece of paper that indicated how much sludge and garbage we had on board at arrival. I had no idea of the requirement to submit this statement, as it was not in any of the publications I consulted prior to entry. In addition, I was turned down by the inspectors when I offered to generate this letter on the spot on the ship. We would not be permitted to sail until we presented a letter guaranteeing the money was in a local bank account, the full amount to be paid in a year if our litigation against the charge was unsuccessful.

Twelve thousand euro is something in the neighborhood of $15,000 dollars. I begged and pleaded to have the fee waived, and while the port captain, agent and inspector deliberated in Spanish, I prayed. When the port captain spoke in English again, he said he could reduce the fine to 6,000 euro. Oh my! So generous!

He also had a list of seven items that he sent to USCG activities in Europe, telling them how terrible our ship was and that he’d let us sail if the Coast Guard agreed we were safe. The wording of his email was so dirty and manipulative of the facts, however, that no Coast Guardsman in his right mind would allow a ship so described to sail.

The inspector insisted that we were a cargo vessel and not a fishing vessel, and that he and I both knew it. I could only respond that we were registered as a fishing vessel, and it made no difference what he saw or thought he understood. US laws were the ones we followed, and they classify us as a fishing vessel. There’s nothing else they can call us. We’re not a cargo ship because we don’t carry the goods in our holds for hire. We’re not a passenger ship because we don’t carry any people for hire, and we’re certainly not a bulk liquid ship. We have adequate life saving equipment and adequate manning, although the loss of our chief mate and second mate sure didn’t help us much. (Saw them later this evening, and they were still on the island, without a care in the world, enjoying a little vacation before flying home for Christmas.)

At this point, the ship is verbally arrested and a written arrest warrant will be presented by a soldier sometime soon. The ship cannot sail until two criteria are met – the warranty letter of 6,000 euro is in the hands of the port captain, and the USCG certifies the ship is safe to sail.

Wednesday, 06 December

Oh yeah, today is a national holiday, constitution day, so no official business will be done today. Even if the USCG weighs in on our side, the port captain won’t know about it until tomorrow, at which time charges for an additional day in port will have racked up. It’s about a thousand bucks a day. Also, the banks are closed, so they won’t be able to process any deposits or draft any warranty letters. The physical arrest warrant will not even be issued today.

I thought about trying to run last night. I could leave my forward spring line on the pier, come ahead on a slow bell with the rudder hard left, and let the wind catch the stern. We’d swing around, cast off the spring line and bolt for the open ocean. The nearest navy base is 48 miles away, and we’d have a little time with today being the holiday and all. If I picked the shortest route out of here, we could be in international waters and out of their reach in. . . oh yeah, that’s the issue, we’re slower than most swimmers. Never mind. Don’t you know my that pulse raced and hands grew damp, though, as I thought about this course of action for about 97 seconds.

We spent most of the day in prayer today – collective prayer and individual prayer, singing and Bible reading. The prayer this morning was remarkable; I’ve never experienced anything like it. We prayed the Bible today, reading the verses aloud to God, instead of the other way around like usual. There are promises of victory and healing in the Bible, triumph over enemies, being heard by God if we cry out to Him and seek Him with our whole hearts, and all kinds of words of encouragement. It was awesome!

The Psalms about enemies never really had much meaning for me, to be honest, but I really felt they were valid today. Consider Psalm 37 for example, “Do not fret because of evil men or be envious of those who do wrong; for like the grass they will soon wither, like green plants they will soon die away. . . The wicked plot against the righteous and gnash their teeth at them; but the Lord laughs at the wicked, for He knows their day is coming.”

Thursday, 07 December

The paper arrest warrant was issued today. The arrest warrant is in Spanish, and I can’t understand very much of it, but under the heading that says “Propietario/Responsable” I can clearly read my own name and something about 12,000 euros.

The Port Captain of Friend Ships and the Facility Manager of one of the ships, a licensed engineer, arrived in Tenerife today. They dumped their bags off at the ship, and we all headed straight for the office of the Port Captain in Tenerife. We were weighed down with heaps of books and binders, SOLAS and CFR regulations appropriate to our ship, inspection certificates and USCG letters of determination from the past.

Pharaoh, sorry, Capitan Antonio Padron y Santiago, was unmoved by our display. I guess you could say his heart was hardened, and we were not permitted to sail today. This does not really surprise me. Tomorrow is another holiday, Conception Day, so we have a three day weekend ahead of us during which no business transactions will be completed, but the bill will increase.

Saturday, 09 December

The USCG has weighed in heavily on our side, and Capitan Padron y Santiago has consented to release us. Our bail must still be paid, however, and we will not be given our clearance to sail until he has a bank warranty of 6,000 euro. It’s nice to know that we can go, but I still feel violated. Who knows how much this wretched adventure is going to cost us? We’re a volunteer crew on a humanitarian aid ship, for crying out loud!

Sunday, 10 December

Saw Juan de la Rubia playing the organ at a concert in the Tenerife Auditorium today. I sure dig Bach.

Monday, 11 December

We were underway at 1200 today, actually sailing away! The total bill was something like $25,000. I suppose it could have been more, and I do believe that my God does have very deep pockets, but I don’t understand why He’s willing to finance a corrupt port. For me, nearly every moment of our visit in Tenerife was like being beaten with a baseball bat. Our departure did not bring any sense of vindication or victory to me; rather it’s like we limped away head down, beaten and cowed, the barest of escapes. It was a very unsatisfying way to leave.

Saturday, 16 December

I heard my Grandmother passed away today. She had not been well for a while, but I still think death is a stupid idea. I feel numb, unable to really process the fact. I feel worst for my Pa; I’d like to be there to comfort him, but I’m thousands of miles away on a slow boat from the Canaries, reduced to 4 knots in a moderate head sea. Some guys on the ship prayed for me and reminded me that one day I’ll see my Gramma again in glory.

Wednesday, 20 December

The days drag by slower than a glacier, and with a similar effect on my mind. I can’t stand to read one more page in one more book, and this says a lot! I was roped into being the announcer for the coming “Fashion Show” by a girl with a pretty smile. I better not have any daughters. Figured I had nothing better to do with my time, so I set to work developing my own outfit for the show. My thumb is aching from pushing a needle for six hours.

Sunday, 24 December

“Mardis Gras Mountain Man,” the name given to my Fashion Show costume by an observer. Four months on a slow, small ship and you might find yourself doing some pretty strange things too. Our costumes were to be developed from items found exclusively within the “rag bag,” a giant heap of used Cintas uniforms, sheets and other rags.

I added extensive fringe to a pair of brown pants, making them look like buckskin leggings, and started to work the same trick on a jacket. It started to look like an attempt at cool instead of just being obnoxious, so I stopped half way. I funkified a small pink ladies shirt by exchanging the sleeves for different clashing material and cut a breechcloth from a sheet with a purple and green flower pattern. My jester’s hat was the crowning achievement. It’s really something – four curving, curling legs stuffed with foam bits from an old pillow, different clashing colors, and custom fit for my head, every piece original. It only took twenty hours to complete. My back and shoulder muscles and hands would occasionally lock up in painful spasms, but with enough ibuprofen I’ve found I can get through most pain.

Monday, 25 December

Merry Christmas! It truly was merry today! Dinner was incredible; the ladies in the galley really outdid themselves. The weather was pleasant, and with only 1500 miles to go to Lake Charles, our destination is starting to feel close! The mood of the whole crew is buoyant, a good thing for sailors, and we joyfully celebrated the birth of our Savior. We all miss our families, but there is less time to go than we have gone, and we’ll be seeing them soon. It’s pretty exciting to be coming back after such a long trip. God has surely used this oceanic desert experience for our spiritual growth and development.

Friday, 29 December 2006

My cousin is getting married today. I sure wanted to be there! Dang it! God Bless you, James and Helen!

Sunday, 31 December 2006

This morning I was contemplating how my relationship with God suffers when I sin. I feel bad about myself, and I withdraw from Him, neglecting to pray or spend time reading the Bible. I was thinking about how I want to be a better person for God, not because I feel obliged, but because I truly love Him. Unbidden, a song lyric from a band of Christian rockers began to circulate in my head: “Stop comparing who you are to who you want to be.” I paused and thought about the implications for my current situation, but then I presented this hypothetical situation to God: What if a husband is a total slob and a really dirty pig, shouldn’t he try to be cleaner for his wife? Seems like I had an answering thought: Yes, but he should not go live in the barn away from his wife until he learns to clean up his act. Yes, she wants him to be neater, but she loves him anyway, even as a slob.

See, I’ve been reading “The Ragamuffin Gospel” by Brennan Manning. I feel bad trying to reduce the whole book to a summary sentence or paragraph, but the focal point of the book is the mind-bending concept of God’s grace. Salvation is not obtained or retained by even our very best efforts. I’ve had this mistaken idea that because I have experienced the new birth, there are things I now can and must do to please God. I cannot earn God’s acceptance; He has given it to me through the shed blood of Jesus Christ. His sacrifice for me is all there ever was and all there ever will be to obtain forgiveness. I cannot now add my commendable behavior to His sacrifice, nor should I try.

I guess I still don’t really get it. I am judgmental and pharisaical to the extent that I misunderstand God’s grace. I hold very high standards for myself and for others. If I meet the standards I have set, I become prideful, and if I don’t meet them, I condemn myself. Then I project my feelings onto God and imagine that He probably accepts me or condemns me as well. Terribly, I tend to approve or criticize others based on this same scale. I don’t know that I have ever consciously thought that God agreed with my assessment of others, but maybe I have behaved this way.

I do think I am making progress in this area, cutting myself and others a little bit of slack, but I sure have some room to grow. I don’t know how to obey God with the right motives yet, and maybe I never will. I guess I’ll just keep returning to God and trust that He will teach me the lessons I need to learn as He feels I’m ready to learn them. As this year closes, the lesson seems to be learning to acquire a gentler disposition toward myself and others through God’s amazing grace.

Monday, 08 January 2007

We arrived in Lake Charles on January Second and made an uneventful transit up the Calcasieu River to our home base. Contrary to the general theme of my life, I actually prefer uneventful trips, especially in confined waterways. We discharged the empty containers on the Third, and I began driving home on the morning of the Fourth with Rob, the third mate from the ship. I dropped Rob off in Mendocino Friday night and continued driving home Saturday morning. I only received one speeding ticket, and later today I’ll celebrate Christmas with Mom and Dad and my brother, sister-in-law and their seven-month-old son.

I know this is getting long, but I must say that as time has given me a chance to observe the trip from a distance, I am gaining better perspective. I had not felt that being a captain was a very satisfying experience because I could not see tangible benefits to my efforts at herding cats (how it felt to lead sometimes), and boy, was I tired. Our ship carried 900 tons of supplies to Israel, however, and the ministries which distribute these goods say that what we brought is equivalent to about 12 years worth of supplies. That’s pretty cool and that’s pretty tangible.

I also do not think that I did a very good job as captain, but what do I know? I can only acknowledge that God chose me to be the captain of the 2006 Mission to Israel even though He knew in advance how I would perform. Maybe no one else was willing. Whatever the case, I did my best and I did it for Him. May He receive all the credit.

Finally, I have come to see that in every situation God was there for me. He never let me down! He did not make the trip or the experience easy, but He helped me through every ordeal! There were so many times that I was at my wits’ end, and there was no person to whom I could turn for advice. It was up to me, on my shoulders, I had the responsibility! I turned to God in my most desperate moments, and He supported me and carried me through every single time without exception. God was there for me, He really was actually right there with me! He is still there for us even if we don’t know it, so I consider it a great blessing just to become aware of the fact of His faithfulness. Awesome! Praise God! And now I’m home in lovely green, cold, wet, mountainous Washington State, and hope to remain so for some time. Be in touch, I’ll do my best to get back to you.

In Christ, Truly,

Jake