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Ben is done with his circumnavigation. The story is here.


The very first book I read was about a boy named Paka who lived on a South Pacific island. I was six years old, PaKa was ten, he became my first hero and is still today.

The story of Paka wove around the invention of sail craft in the South Seas. A young determined fisherman living on a tropical isle, Paka paddled his dugout beyond the reef against the sage advise of the older boys & men so that he might prove himself a man by providing food for his family. His dugout, at the end of the day full of fish, was too unwieldy for his small stature to command. Ultimately he had to discard most of his catch to make it home, only to be disenchanted as the others paddled shoreward laughing in their ritualistic daily race homeward across the reef. That night Paka had a dream.

In his dream a great wind blew on shore & caught the sleeping mat he slept upon, pulling it from under him. He chased the mat across the island until it caught in a small tree, bending the tree to the wind’s strength. Paka awoke remembering his dream and inspiration arose within him to harness the power of wind. Again he went beyond the reef in his dugout to fish, the men’s laughter again ringing in his ears. Late in the afternoon, as the sun was setting & with his dugout once again full of fish, the other men began their customary race to shore, passing the boy, offering to carry his fish in good humor.

Paka began rigging a special shaped mat he had woven under the guidance of his grandmother onto a stout pole. Soon he was passing the other fishermen, the wind applying its strength to his sail-mat, and effortless as a bird he sailed over the reef. With each fisherman he passed his smile grew until he arrived first ashore with his catch. Paka was now regaled as a man, a man who became legend, the first sailor of the south sea isles, and my first idol.

This chronicle begins in 2004, however my journey aboard the 42-foot cutter Gypsy Soul began in December 1999 from a derelict boat yard near the Mexican border of South Texas. By the time I returned home in June 2008, I edited the early years of my missives to mom and friends, which I faithfully began upon the embarkation of a childhood dream. For entertainment’s sake to all sailors, my foolhardy and reckless early years from lake sailing armchair circumnavigator to Pacific crossing single-hander eventually be posted. But since returning to the 'First World' I have begun writing a book, which will be available through self-publishing by the end of 2009.

Gypsysoulsailing.com begins in New Zealand, with 27 countries and thirty thousand miles already in our wake. My faithful Gypsy Soul, a 42-foot Tayana, had been dry-docked for the past 9 months and after some land travels in New Zealand, Alaska and visiting home. I returned to old tub and spent some months re-fitting and provisioned for remote cruising in the South Pacific. I’d missed her dearly & had contrived a sail-plan skirting the cyclone season to far-flung Pacific islands few sailors visit. It was a ‘Man Plan’ to be partnered with an Aussi soul brother named David, AKA Dashing Davo. 2004 was a year of stepping back in time, sailing a total of 10,000 miles from New Zealand up north to the equator, then west, and south again down to Australia. We stopped in 6 Pacific Nations, some 35 islands and atolls along the way, visited some of the most remote cultures on earth, places where stone age only touched the industrial 20th century a mere 70 years ago in the form of Imperial Japan, where just a hundred years ago cannibals and headhunters ate zealous missionaries soon after they landed and religion could not toehold, a place surprisingly enough, where Americans are today appreciated for their past deeds of liberation during WWII Pacific campaigns.

For a moment I must also admit my density, as I had no idea, of the 250 million Americans, only a hand full of single men in their mid 30’s do what I had dreamed to do, that is to sail the globe traveling for 8-10 years as a free roaming adventure seeker. It took someone else to point it out to me, and only just recently. I’ve been encouraged to pontificate in some self-help bullshit about focusing on ones dreams and not loosing oneself in the adult distractions of ego-pandering accumulations, career wealth, pride, and evolving past the grind of average hyper-consuming convenience abuser. I‘ll spare you that bull, I went screwing off in search of freedom and adventure. I grew up middleclass average, then a 20-something proverbial ne'er-do-well who eventually stayed focused, pinched pennies, and set sail at age 36. I’ll likely come off politically incorrect and offend some. When I finish the book I hope some will buy it so I can afford to sail again and offend some more.

As mentioned before, my missives are meant to keep my mother and family from worry, and to share my escape with some sense of humor. Over time I found myself taking in experiences differently, being more observant and interactive with writing in mind. Later the my “Hi Mom” emails were shared unedited with all friends who wanted to know more about this weird path I'd taken. Eventually several hundred people, many of whom I know not, got caught up in the forwarding loop of cyberspace. I’ve given up my pride; shame and privacy with my missives, all can read my email journal now with GypsySoulSailing.com unedited or spell checked to my embarrassment.

I no longer remember travels by photo’s taken, but as inspired writings noted fresh in my mind, many times within hours of the experience or many hand written notes compiled later. My photography is an accompaniment to writing about people, places, and experiences, photo’s merely proof of how big that frigging fish really was, how beautiful the islands, majestic the sunset, or handsome the island girl. My friends agree the photos are secondary, they read first & see later when I‘m home for a visit. This is how this website is presented in its ongoing documentary for 2005-06 as I planned to sail the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, and west to South East Asia, across the indian ocean and around the cape of Africa, then an Atlantic crossing to Brazil and a leisure trip up the Caribbean and home.

Read on if you like..."The wind is free, so should everything else be".

ben