Copy of The Seafarer (Saoirse)
For the navigators, the rootless wanderers
For those who have no fear of new horizons
Who aren’t afraid to set the sails and leave the safe harbour
To let the wind carry us away
To let the waves knock us down and push us right back to where we started
Because we know that once we push through the storms
And crawl from the shipwrecks
The entire world will be ours.
Blue Peter
A blue and white flag is hoisted, the fore-topsail loosened, and a gunshot fired to call the crew back on board. Don’t get left behind!
The Blue Peter flag has been flown since the mid 1600’s as an alert to the sailors that the ship is leaving port.
We combined an Atlantic Ocean blue and sea shell white for our pieces, to make a statement. Our Bellas wearing our reversible Blue Peter suits don’t wait for anyone, or anything. Because we know that time waits for no one.
We’re totally fearless in the pursuit of what sets our souls on fire!
The Blue Peter flag has been flown since the mid 1600’s as an alert to the sailors that the ship is leaving port.
We combined an Atlantic Ocean blue and sea shell white for our pieces, to make a statement. Our Bellas wearing our reversible Blue Peter suits don’t wait for anyone, or anything. Because we know that time waits for no one.
We’re totally fearless in the pursuit of what sets our souls on fire!
San Blas
“Is that a fleet of ships on the horizon?”, I asked Riley as the sun rose, and SV La Vagabonde was a few hours sail from making landfall in the San Blas islands. Our boat was gently rocking with following seas and a stiff breeze from the north, filling our sails and carrying us along like we were floating on clouds. A welcome respite from the 24 hours of mayhem we encountered having first set sail from Colombia the day before.
Riley squinted his eyes as he took to the helm, a little weary of the sight before him. “I think it’s, palm trees! They’re not ships, it’s the islands!”. 
The San Blas Archipelago lies in the Caribbean Sea, containing 365 tiny islands a lot of which are uninhabited and within swimming distance of another. “One island for each day of the year”, I exclaimed to Riley as I read our sail guide on the area and sipped my morning coffee.
Riddled with palm trees so tightly compact together, from a distance the islands looked like fat, wooden fishing boats.
We dropped the anchor on the leeward side of an island, landing in a huge sand bar that seemed to stretch for miles. She dug straight away, and myself and the crew knew we’d sleep easy tonight. I immediately jumped off the bow holding my snorkel to my face. Upon submerging in the refreshing temperate of the water, I also decided that colour of the water was indeed, just as I’d heard: Crystal Blue. Star fish, lobster and an abundance of sea life covered the entirety of the ocean floor. As I scrambled ashore, I was greeted by some local Kuna people, Panimanian inhabitants who’ve occupied some of these islands for hundreds of years. A few of the women wore beautiful skirts with their traditional geometric designs referred to as ‘Molas’, and the men and children dressed comfortably in loose clothing that had seen a fair few days in the sun. The Kuna people live a simple life on the islands. They sat outside their bamboo huts under the shade of the palm trees, with nothing more than a few chairs, carpets laid over the sand and livestock to keep them company.
Riddled with palm trees so tightly compact together, from a distance the islands looked like fat, wooden fishing boats.
We dropped the anchor on the leeward side of an island, landing in a huge sand bar that seemed to stretch for miles. She dug straight away, and myself and the crew knew we’d sleep easy tonight. I immediately jumped off the bow holding my snorkel to my face. Upon submerging in the refreshing temperate of the water, I also decided that colour of the water was indeed, just as I’d heard: Crystal Blue. Star fish, lobster and an abundance of sea life covered the entirety of the ocean floor. As I scrambled ashore, I was greeted by some local Kuna people, Panimanian inhabitants who’ve occupied some of these islands for hundreds of years. A few of the women wore beautiful skirts with their traditional geometric designs referred to as ‘Molas’, and the men and children dressed comfortably in loose clothing that had seen a fair few days in the sun. The Kuna people live a simple life on the islands. They sat outside their bamboo huts under the shade of the palm trees, with nothing more than a few chairs, carpets laid over the sand and livestock to keep them company.
Since the beginning of their settlement, the Kuna people had plenty of food and trade roots with different families, pirates and explorers, which benefited the growing of the community. Nowdays, the Kuna people rely heavily on tourism to keep their comminutites thriving, as well as the export of their coconuts to Colombia in exchange for food staples, batteries and other goods.
Due to global warming and sea level rise, the San Blas Islands could be rendered uninhabitable by the late 21st century.
We’ve hand painted in watercolor a glimpse of the San Blas Islands. Memories I hold so dearly.