Tom Crean – An Unsung Hero

Some of you will recognise the iconic picture of Tom Crean, one of the greatest characters in the history of polar exploration. Crean may not be a household name when compared to the likes of Shackelton and Scott. However Crean is a great example of the many people who risked their lives to go to places mankind had ever dared to go before. It is incredible to read what they went through during those times. They had a completely different threshold for endurance which we do not come close to today. We only think we know about hardship. Reading this book during the Winter in Canada makes me realise that most modern people have no real complaints and I will think twice when complaining of the cold!Tom Crean hailed from County Kerry, Ireland. He was one of the hardest humans that ever lived. He managed to travel and explore the Antarctic on three occasions. If you do not know this inspiring story we highly recommend reading An Unsung Hero. Crean’s story is one of ingenuity, survival and heroism. He is one of the many people who have inspired us to keep travelling and exploring.#thelastfrontier #discovery #endurance #terranova #polar #southpole #antarctic #unsunghero #tomcrean #anasaul #exploration #anunsunghero #scott #shackleton #polarexploration #hero #survival

We made the Irish Sunday paper!

We made the Irish Sunday paper! You can find the article in the Sunday Business Post Magazine after all the Pope related articles. #sundaybusinesspost #sundaybusinesspostmagazine #alifeaquatic #sundaypaper #asailingadventure #sailing #irishsailing #liveaboard #yacht #steelboat #ireland 📸 Photo credit @davin_whooley

View on Instagram https://ift.tt/2Nhy4oU

I’ve got a mule and her name is Sal

I’ve got a mule and her name is Sal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal She’s a good old worker and a good old pal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal We haul’d some barges in our day Filled with lumber, coal, and hay We know every inch of the way From Albany to Buffalo Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we’re coming to a town And you’ll always know your neighbor And you’ll always know your pal If ya ever navigated on the Erie Canal – Thomas Allen, 1905 #eriecanal #lowbridge #brucespringsteen #canal #explore #bridge #steelboat #travel #mooring #liveaboard #lock #discover #mohawkriver #notsailing #thomasallen

View on Instagram https://ift.tt/2NQ768e

Dismal Swamp

Yesterday we went through the first section of the Dismal Swamp. It’s safe to say it is far from dismal! When heading north on the ICW there are two routes to reach Norfolk, Virginia and several cruisers avoid the Dismal Swamp due to debris. The army has undertaken a two year project to clear and clean up the swamp. The swamp now looks incredible and should not be avoided. Also there are loads of turtles here 🐢🐢🐢

#dismalswamp #icw #Northcarolina #virginia #intercoastalwaterway #cruising #boatlife #travel #swamp #wildlife #timelapse #sailing #yacht #turtlepower #turtle #gopro #boattimelapse

​An Gobadán: the Long Way

When we were sailing in Galicia, Spain we met up with Jasmine another Irish sailing vessel. One of the crew was intrigued by our journey and wrote this incredible poem for An Gobadán

We cannot control the sea,

but we can learn to surf the waves:

even as dead mariners

turn in their graves.

An expanse of ocean,

blue infinity;

nothing is as deep or strong

as the pull of the sea.

Where blue capped hills of foaming grey

touch the leaden endless sky;

where birds in spare solitude,

sighted, fly by.

Set the course a-southing,

wherever you must go:

a distant shore, another land,

new shore-tides’ ebb and flow.

For a sure and simple crossing,

wind it must set fair,

to take us from this starting point,

to somewhere over there.

To sail the formless water,

long-roll of the sea,

another waiting ocean;

be alive and free.

To face the seas’ pernicious forms,

in the dark of night:

roar of the water, the wind

or a silent moving light.

A test for land-worn senses,

which were seldom meant to be

alone under a bowl of stars –

captive to an endless sea.

After ship-bound days and nights,

tiller, rope in hand,

a present, moving shadow:

promise of the land.

Draws up, takes shape, calls out

a sirens’ cry of hope.

Journeys end, passage done,

arrive intact, afloat.

As silent long-dead mariners

turn in their graves,

we have not controlled the sea,

but have learned to surf the waves.


Philip Mackeown