Dry Season

Direction Island, Cocos Keeling, Australia

Years ago, Jennifer’s dad told me a Texas joke about rain that goes something like this:  “An old farmer stands with his son on his porch, gazing longingly at a distant dark cloud approaching his farm.  He turns to his visiting cousin, and says:  “I wish it would rain … not so much for me -- I’ve seen it rain -- but for my boy here …”

It’s been like that for ile de Grace these past months:  bone dry days and nights in the eponymous dry season.  When we left Cairns, Australia in late May, we had already entered the austral dry season, and had not seen rain for weeks.  Sailing up the Queensland coast, inside the Great Barrier Reef – no rain.  On our trip to the Spice Islands, we arrived in a brief shower as a low pressure trough meandered its way across the volcanic islands, spilling what little moisture it had stored up.  That was June 22.  Since then, throughout Indonesia – no rain, no drizzle, no sprinkles, no nothing.  It’s September 10 here in Cocos Keeling, Jennifer’s birthday, and we haven’t even seen a dark cloud since that June day … and before that, it was late April.  One brief rain shower in nearly five months. 

Our first rain since June 22 ...

So when we spotted the dark clouds on the southeastern horizon this afternoon, it took a moment to register – was that rain?  Could it be?  Soon enough, we saw the line of rain spattering the surface of the protected waters inside the reef, headed our way, and quickly, a cold rain began to pelt down, washing away the boat’s accumulated salt of our recent 7 day passage from Bali, providing a much-needed fresh water rinse for ile de Grace.   

Fresh water is scarce in most of the tropical waters for at least half the year.  Indonesia, like most tropical countries, lies parched for rain half the year, and then desperate for dryness the other half. As we sailed along the northern edge of Nusa Tengarra’s islands, the hillsides were parched brown, a far cry from the lushness of the wet season.  No surprise, of course, since it’s our choice, as sailors, to favor the dry seasons, as the winds tend to come from the southeast, perfect for our west-about circumnavigation. Once the winds swing around to the southwest, wet season arrives.  Several centuries ago, the coastal nations of the Indian Ocean used this semi-annual swing of the winds to trade with one another, heading west in the dry season, and east in the wet season, moving spices and textiles between the Asian and African continents.  The old trading ships cared more about cargo than rainclouds, and sailed in the wet season, but truth be told, we prefer dry sailing to wet sailing, hence our westabout circumnavigation.  However, after five months of dryness, enough is enough, and the rain fell, as they say, like manna from heaven.  Clear skies are great, but all things in moderation – including perfect weather.

In addition to marking Jennifer’s birthday, celebrated with a delightful dinner here in Cocos with six cruising friends, the rain also served as a providential reminder of my own dryness anniversary, coming up in two days.  Ten years ago, just a day after the 9/11 attacks, I realized that for me, even moderation was impossible, and I quit drinking alcohol.  That day, I began what is now a ten-year-and-continuing life voyage through the dry latitudes.  I don’t miss drinking these days; I am more than content to sail our boat, drink my Crystal Light lemonade, under sunny skies above, always grateful for the sunshine, but, it must be said, hoping for the occasional rain shower.  After all, I’ve seen it rain, but my boat ...