Brazil

Looking for a break after three weeks at sea, we opted to stop in the port of Natal, Brazil. Laying a-hull till sunrise, we slowly motored up Rio Potengi to the Yacht Club. An impressive (for Brazil) modern suspension bridge towers above the river as small row boats net the murky waters below for fish. Dolphin follow us up the river and Makai is equally excited about them as the prospect of land. The anticipation of new food, language, culture and experiences set in once again.

We quickly anchor and hit our first challenge: getting to shore. During our Atlantic crossing choppy seas persuaded our dinghy into an unscheduled man-over-board drill. Being a moonless night, we failed to notice till the morning with the tell tale sign of a broken lifeline. A kayak and surf boards were the only water transport to survive the crossing. In an Olympic feat, we turned the one man kayak into two, negotiating the river to the dock with precious paperwork and computers aboard. Next challenge: checking in formalities. We took a taxi to immigration to find they were not as excited as we to be in Brazil. Lacking an entry visa, they had no idea what to do with us. We stocked up on food and water on the way back expecting deportation. Instead, they quarantined us to the yacht club. Free internet, live music, restaurant, swimming pool, tennis courts didn't seem like that much of a punishment.  The confinement was reminiscent of childhood summers at the Lancaster Country Club.

After a few days hanging out ignoring idle threats from the Policia Federal, we are heading off tomorrow morning to Trinidad and Tobago. Wish us luck on the tipsy kayak back to the Broken Compass and wind for the voyage up to the Caribbean.

St. Helena

Charting the remote area where the island of St. Helena lies, ancient cartographers would inscribe: 'here there be dragons.' The high barren cliffs surrounding this seemingly lifeless island could easily be perceived by early navigators as the last stop before sailing off a flat world.

To this day, it is only possible to visit St. Helena by ship. As a British Overseas Territory, the UK sends people and goods on the RMS ship (Royal Mail Service) providing a lifeline for the island. The other visitors appear to be yachts looking for a place to break up the long Atlantic crossing. For centuries, St. Helena acted as a prison.  As the ultimate spot to exile prisoners, historically this is the main source of revenue for the remote island.  Over 1,600 miles to South America, it makes escaping Alcatraz or Robben Island seem like child's play. Interestingly enough, no person escaped Robben island, however, a Dutch man did escape from St. Helena.  The island hosted Napoleon Bonaparte until his death, along with other British trouble makers such as Zulu Chief Dinizulu, select Bahrainis, and thousands of South African Boers.

Due to the lack of visitors, the entire island is a promotional center with tourist brochures every few feet. We took a day tour around the island checking out the Napoleonic sites, museums, flax plantations, as well as some incredible ocean views. We met Jonathan, who the Saints (people of St. Helena) claim to be the oldest living land creature at an estimated age of 197. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, but maintains a privileged life on the Governor’s estate.

Before leaving, we made sure to climb Jacob's ladder (originally designed to haul manure out of the city limits). The 5min 11 second record seemed attainable as we commenced the 699 oversized steps to the top. Apparently 1700 sea miles over two weeks doesn't help with one's cardiovascular endurance. The record stands uncontested.