Stories

One-Year Anniversary Aboard Ad Astra

A year ago our home was Austin. We had so many friends. Many people came together in our last month to help us get ready, and it seemed like every day was another goodbye party. Now our home is the sailing catamaran Ad Astra.

It is 6 am, and before anyone else woke up, I wanted to write this note to think over the last year of adventure together. There is a minor tropical wave rolling by overhead with grey sullen skies, winds gusting in the high 20s, rain and thunder. Drinking my cold-brew iced coffee and with RUSH playing it is the perfect mood to reflect.

A year ago, yesterday we flew into St. Thomas with a bunch of bags and ready to finally move aboard Ad Astra full-time. Sold and gave away everything. My Dad is holding our wedding pictures and a few artifacts, but we have nothing in storage. No house, no cars, no "stuff", and no home to go back to.

Food is better. We cook almost all of our meals, and we take time to think about the ingredients and recipes. There is a lot more effort involved in sourcing our food. No longer can we simply hop in the car, 5 minutes later walk into a mega supermarket and load up the trunk. Now, we have to actively think ahead in time — where will we be? What markets do they have?

And our "backyard" is HUGE — it is the world. The scenery changes all the time. Even at the same spot the weather changes the water, different fish hang out with you. Right now we have a huge 5 foot barracuda that acts like a curious dog.

For my whole life, I have been a night owl and never enjoyed waking up in the morning. But now I am usually awake naturally between 5 and 6 am, fully rested and no use for an alarm clock. It is a great feeling to grab your coffee and gaze as the sky lightens. On passage making, I always seek out the 3am to 6am shifts. I love the mornings now.

Preparing Ad Astra for Tropical Storm Matthew

Our first major storm. A Category 5 hurricane — the farthest south on record — and we're tied up in mangroves playing homemade board games while the Caribbean holds its breath.

It was supposed to be a tropical storm. We sailed from the Tobago Cays to Grenada, seeking shelter. At the Victory Bar, the cruising community held weather conferences, sharing forecasts and arguing over the best mangrove swamp to hide in.

Steve Jobs' yacht AI Venus arrived and docked — all 256 feet of Philippe Starck-designed aluminum. Even in a hurricane, some things are surreal.

We tied up in the mangroves of Point Egmont. Max's homemade board game Contraband provided entertainment while Matthew became the farthest-south Category 5 Atlantic hurricane on record. Ad Astra survived fine. Afterward, we surfed 8-10 foot breaking waves just because we could.

Five Days at Sea and a Surprise Destination

An exhaust hose came loose. Then LED strips caught fire. Then a terrifying wind event hit with zero visibility. Ad Astra sailed backwards to safety.

En route from Cozumel toward Panama, things went sideways fast. An exhaust hose came loose, filling the engine room with fumes. Then LED strips in Sue Kuei's cabin literally caught fire.

Then the wind event hit. Zero visibility. 40+ knots from all directions. I heaved-to, and Ad Astra sailed backwards at 1.5 knots — toward our destination, as it turned out.

We darkened the boat running through Honduran pirate waters with no lights or AIS. A sublime night under the Orion Nebula, visible to the naked eye. The spontaneous detour ended at San Andreas, Colombia — Colombia's version of Hawaii. Sometimes the sea decides your itinerary.

A Perfect Day

Diving Jacques Cousteau National Park, catching Mahi on passage to Antigua, swimming with humpback whales, and a beach in Barbuda where the sand has opinions about your feet.

The kind of day that makes you understand why you sold everything. Guadeloupe's Jacques Cousteau National Park for morning dives — the coral gardens are stunning, protected, alive.

On passage to Antigua, a humpback whale surfaced so close we could smell its breath. The boys caught a beautiful Mahi. We ate it that night with rice and the last of the limes from Martinique.

In Barbuda, the beach is a mile of pink-white sand. But the sand has opinions — tiny mollusk spines that embed in your feet if you walk without shoes. The boys learned this the hard way, with tweezers and headlamps that evening.

To the Los Roques Isles

433 nautical miles south under the gennaker, bioluminescence in the wake, the Milky Way overhead, and arrival at powder-white sand streets where lobster costs three dollars.

The passage planning was meticulous. 433nm from Sint Martin, provisioning for months: various flours, yeasts, tapioca starch, rum for trading with fishermen, and extra fish hooks.

Under the big green gennaker — the Puff Machine — Ad Astra ghosted south at 6-7 knots. The bioluminescence was electric. Every wave crest sparkled. The wake was a river of blue-green fire. Overhead, the Milky Way arched from horizon to horizon.

Gran Roque welcomed us with friendly Coast Guard, powder-white sand streets (no cars), and posadas serving fresh lobster for $3-5. We exchanged 645,000 Bolivars at 7,000 to the dollar. The locals were warm and kind despite their country falling apart around them. It remains the family's favorite destination.

My Dad

Neil Bethke passed at 70. A letter from Roatan at 5:30am, a thin crescent moon and Venus shining, racing to get to him while keeping a family safe on a boat in pirate waters.

It is December 4th, about 5:30am local time here in Roatan. There is a thin crescent moon and Venus is shining bright, over the west end of this island.

Ann shared that your doctor has disappointing news and recommends against the immunotherapy. I wish I was there to scoop you up in my arms and just hug you. I wish I was there to play any cool board game with you and perhaps share an artichoke.

I cannot leave Ad Astra here in Honduras. Dive tanks were stolen last night. Three boats have been violently boarded in this area in the last 12 months. I must get Ad Astra to a secure marina. That marina is Red Frog in Bocas del Toro, Panama. From there, me and the boys will fly to you.

Neil introduced Erik to programming on Atari 400/800/Commodore 64 at The Federated Group electronics store. His Gatorade was "Gator pee — from Florida." He threw epic parties and brought people together, even at the end.

Sailing Adventures with Dave Bethke

Uncle Dave flew to Panama to help transit the canal and heal after losing Neil. Beer contests, 100-year-old locks, body surfing with Dad's last gift, and financial planning 66 floors above the Pacific.

Dave helped transit the Panama Canal as line handlers on SV Maple. The beer drinking contest at the Pacific Puddle Jump party was legendary. Rising through the 100-year-old locks was "mega tech!"

They explored Panama City together. Dave had been making serious money as a plumber. Financial planning session 66 floors above the canal, two brothers figuring out what comes next after losing their father.

Body surfing at Red Frog Beach in Bocas del Toro, using Churchill fins — the last gift Neil gave to Erik. "That is how cool my Dad is — even dead — he throws an epic party and brings people together."