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One year ago we were on the great Raja Amput adventure. By this time the organized rally had unraveled totally and we were cruising with our buddy boat.  We had crossed the worst of the weather, and were in the wilds of Saluwasi Island. We had also just gotten the gut wrenching news that our last marina had been invaded by criminals and four of our friends taken hostage. This news and its ripple effect cast a cloud over the remainder of the trip.

The boat we were traveling with had some issues and finally totally broke down. We towed them 140 miles to safe harbor, a long often up current trip dropping down to 2 knots at times. Thirty-six hours later we dropped anchor in Sorong.

From then on the trip was a marvel. Raja Amput is one of the most beautiful places I have seen and the diving is truly world class.  Our last stay was about a week in Weyag Island group. This is a spectacular place; one I would love to return to. We awoke each day to the sounds of Manta Rays jumping about the boat. The crystal clear water and the cornucopia of sea life made for some juicy good diving.

We ran into our old friends from the Komodo, livaboard dive boat, Whicked Diving. They operate half time in Komodo then follow the season up to Raja Amput with the fleet. We had spent time with them in Komodo and were welcomed with open arms. As they did not have guests coming for a while we took one of the boat men with us for four days to be our guide.  It was good to have that local knowledge.

After a mystical week in Weyag, we began the long trip back to the Philippines. The weather was changing and the wind switching back out of the Northeast. This meant we would go “uphill both ways” beating against southerlies going down and northerlies returning. This was one of many of the indicators this rally was thoughtlessly planned.

The Rally brought us many new friends

one of the many white sandy beaches

I saw a weather window and we took off, doing one over nighter which put us into the bay at Davao just after dark after crossing the area most likely to see trouble, we were all on edge. As we entered the bay we were hailed by name on channel 16. Donna was sure it was pirates and I was leery as well. The very military sounding voice said they were Filipino Coast Guard and asked a lot of questions. To insure I was talking to someone in the military I quickly phonetically spelled Furthur: foxtrot, uniform, romeo, tango, hotel, uniform, romeo.  When the guy understood me I was relieve and glad the coast guard was tracking us.

After a long unsettling night, we were back in what had been our peaceful home at Ocean View Marina. Things had changed, barbed wire on the breakwater, M16 totting military guards and a very dampened spirit marked our return.  Gone were the care free days of taking the small boat diving, riding freely about the island on our scooter, and the serenity of quiet nights.

On the trip back home the water supply hose to the dripless shaft log became constricted, causing a horrid noise and smell. I hauled Furthur to inspect and replace. While at it we painted the hull and replace the entire main engine exhaust pipe. The yard did a great job and oh so cheap. Top notch boat yard men cost ten bucks a day!

Repairs done we became eager to get out of this area. Many of our friends had already left. It just was not the same loving place we had known, such a pity.

For the first time in Furthur Adventure history I could not find crew from findacrew. No one wanted to come to this dangerous area and I could not blame them so gave up quickly. Two of our friends from the marina came along for the experience for the 4 day trip to Cebu.

From Cebu Donna and I manned the boat doing long days but no overnight passages, we did our first of several visits to Romblon Romblon, soon to be a favorite. We landed at one of or “homes” Busanga Island and Coron. Again we were welcomed with open arms, seeing old friends again. I met up with a friend writing for a national online diving magazine and enjoyed showing her the wreck.

We took on new crew and I took her and Donna to the wild life refuge park, never tire of this adventure

Our route took us back to Puerto Galera, another familiar place. This time we joined the Puerto Galera Yacht Club and participated in several of their events, great to be back in a yacht club.

The biggest decision to make in SE Asia is where to go for the rainy/typhoon season. For the last several years we have sought sun in the southern hemisphere, Indonesia. This is a long trip which I have done three times, so this year we took the easier path. We got a slip in a berth in Subic Bay Yacht Club an extraordinarily safe place in all weather and hunker in for the rain.

Tito Brian and the kids

We have now been tied to a slip for three months, longest time since I left Seattle seven years ago. We have made many friends here and gotten both the boat and the captain back in shape. We are also doing some land trips on our motorcycle. We visited Donna’s home village for their fiesta, and I was given the honor of an invitation to be one of the judges at their “Ms Gay Beauty Pageant” another one of those amazing experiences one has to leave home and comfort zone to enjoy.

Donna and I presenting first prize to this beautiful ladyboy

So the second half of my great adventure has turned inward, more personal growth than miles covered, more on that in the next report.

We are enjoying civilization and new friends. Things one takes for granite are treats to a cruiser; going to a movie theatre, great Mexican food, a gym, unlimited shopping.  The stay has been fun and rewarding but I am already eager for the next adventure!

Make Your Dream Your Story

Capt. Brian Calvert

M/Y Furthur

www.furthuradventures.com

Today is National Dog Day, and Americans do love their dogs, no matter what their politics. My friends are posting about taking their canine companions to Doggy Spas and all sorts of Doggy treats.  We are also in the midst of a very divisive election time; the mud is flying. Friend vs friend, brother vs brother in this tumultuous time.  Ah but there is one family member we can all love, the First Dog.

Since the dawn of our great republic the president’s dog has played a major roll. In the darkest hours of any presidency the First Dog is always there to comfort the president.

President Roosevelt allegedly left his dog on a trip to the Aleutian Islands the sent out an expensive search party to find it.   When the press attacked him on it he said “”you can criticize me, my wife and my family, but you can’t criticize my little dog. He’s Scotch and all these allegations about spending all this money have just made his little soul furious.” This Speech is accredited in helping him get reelected.

We, as a nation, have favored a president with populist bent. President Nixon made his career changing “Checkers” speech winning the hearts of the country.  When accusations of receiving illegal gifts came up he said he got one gift, Checkers, and not giving the dog back, the country loved it.

President Johnson was attacked severely by the country over a picture of him picking up his hound dog by the ears. Maybe a preview of his demise. We should have known!

History was made when Nikita Khrushchev made a gift to his rival. President Kennedy was given a one of Strelka’s, the Soviet Space dog, puppies. Pushinka became one of the first family dogs. Her offspring also dwelled in the presidential home.  The Kennedy White House was also home many pets, including one of the countries most photographed ponies, Macaroni.  We would not see young children or their pets in the White House for many years.

As with the off spring of Pushinka, there have been others “born into royalty”.  Gerald Ford’s loyal Golden Retriever gave birth to Misty who now had the royal lineage.

President Reagan had a several dogs. He loved having many animals around him as did Nancy. Ronald Reagan may be the last US President to own and ride a horse, El Alamein. To me this tells the whole story. Easy to love a man on a white horse!

The first dog often held a grave and uniquely important position, one which goes unrewarded. In times of great national and personal stress it was often the First Dog the President confided with. I imagine many a national security issue was discussed with the First Dogs who actually had to the top clearance. I can see FDR sitting up late pondering going to war with Fala. President Truman faced one of the toughest decisions in history, one that no matter which way he many would die. I can see him walking with Feller going over the impending dilemma to drop the first nuclear weapon. Feller probably had more top secret info than you can imagine. Likewise, I bet JFK took canine counsel during the Cuban Missile crisis and his family in their darkest hours.

During personal crisis the president has “gone to the dogs” for comfort. President Clinton said Buddy was his only friend during the Monika incident. His family chastised him, the country angered or laughed but Buddy was there by his side. President Bush (W)  loved ol Barney and the dog was loyal, the press was not. Barney took matters into his own paws as it where and bit one obnoxious reporter, good for Barney.

President Obama is the only president to enter the White House without a dog. Seeing the error of his ways one of his first presidential actions was to bring Bo into the oval office, soon followed by Sunny. The President made a compelling speech, one of many, saying he wanted a dog that was a mutt like himself, a mixture symbolizing the American people.

I have often wished the USA had a monarchy, someone we can all love and raise a glass to. Maybe I am wrong, maybe we should tip the tumbler to the First Dogs, who no matter what your politics are loved by all. I propose there be a National Monument to the First Dogs of the US.  So on this National Dog Day, let us all give thanks to the dogs that have served our country’s leaders. Cheers!

(photo credit unknown,  Wikipedia)

Make Your Dream Your Story

Capt. Brian Calvert

M/Y Furthur

www.furthuradventures.com

The Good Lord looked down at the carnage of WWII, saw the world in a terrible state, inhumanity, despair, the loss of all things of beauty. He saw the invention of weapons that could eventually end his beloved earth. He knew he had to do something.  What would bring joy to the world in the coming decades, bring peace and love? Music! So he waved his magical hand over the huge array of souls about to descend on earth in the coming baby boom and sprinkled the genius of music the likes of which the world had never seen.  The divine spirit decried “Let there be songs to fill the air”.

That spark landed in England and as the babies grew so came forth the Beatles, the Stones, Eric Clapton and a flood of others. As the USA was the first to feel the confidence to reproduce after the war, the US was blessed with the spark of the divine music, rock and roll the most. In the South it was Elvis, in the East it was Dylan, Joan Baez, and the folk revival. In the West, where the Great Spirit clearly has preference it was the Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, the Beach Boys and too many to list all from that spark of music. Some of that magic dust even blew north to Seattle, bringing us the genius of Jimmy Hendrix. This spark eventually created the music of the sixties, undeniably the greatest decade of music ever.

The Almighty music fan heard his music and said it was good. He said let the message of peace and music ring in one place for all to hear and remember. He sent the spark to two young visionaries who would become obsessed with the idea of bringing the music to one place and Woodstock was born. 

Forty six years ago this past weekend the divine muse saw his best work, the best music the world would ever see. He saw the results of his post war idea to bring peace and love to the world as 400,000 young people gathered in harmony. He even tossed in some rain to test his theory. The best of the best came, The Who, Credence Clearwater Revival, and Ten Years After.   some were introduced at the event, the very young Santana captured the audience in his first major performance. Sha Na Na was a club act that one of the producers liked, both are still making music. The starts aligned the night Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young took the stage. Each an accomplished musician in their own rites but the combination proved to be a mystical phenomenon.

The event started with so many mishaps, roads clogged, electrical disasters and over whelming crowds. Richie Heavens was a long time icon in the folk world but unknown to most. Other performers could or would not take the stage first, so Richie without his usual backup band went on. He “sang every song that truck driver knew” and after two hours was exhausted and out of material. There was no one to follow him yet so they pushed him back on the stage. Sweat dripping from his African tunic, he gazed at the massive crowd and the word “freedom” came to mind. He began a riff that the band picked up and simply sang “freedom freedom” adding some words form an old blues song. That performance became the symbol of Woodstock and Richie Heavens became a national hero.

The small rural conservative farm community became flooded with long haired, bead wearing, love chanting youth. There was not nearly enough food to feed them or places for them to stay. The spark of love overcame their fears as they embraced the groups with food and kindness. Many gave testimony to how courteous and polite the festival goers behaved.

The entire festival hinged on one man, Max Yeager. Multi-generational dairy farmer no more likely to embrace pot smoking long haired kids than any other rural farmer, he took the gamble. Then he became the champion of the hippies because the town tried to tell him what to do with his property and he said no. For ever more we will know where “Max Yeager’s Farm” is.

So the Great Rocker in the sky looked down and smiled, the spark he had planted year earlier in baby Janis, Pete, Arlo, Grace and Jerry had worked. Rock and Roll music brought peace and love to his shattered world. Seeing how wonderful the music was the Almighty wanted to dance on a cloud too. It was just after Woodstock that he returned Jimi, and Janis to God’s band. Many would follow and now having lived full lives more are returning to jam by the Pearly Gates. All leave us with the divine gift they were given, the music! So on this anniversary of Woodstock, do something “Woodstockish” meet a new friend, share something, and dance in the rain.

Authors notes: As Furthur and crew will be tied up safely thru the rainy/typhoon season there will not be much nautical to talk about. I will take this opportunity to cover some other ideas.  For those who  seek the cruising info only we will be back at it in December, new adventures and new crew. For now, I do hope you enjoy the new path.   Oh and on this particular blog I use a non-gender “he”, we all know the Goddess reigns. The pictures may be copyright covered.

Make Your Dream Your Story

Capt. Brian Calvert

M/Y Furthur

www.furthuradventures.com

Nothing opens the window to a people’s heart or gives a clearer insight into a culture than their children and their rites of passage. I have been fortunate to have been very immersed in children of many cultures, always an enlightening experience. I have also been blessed with being invited, usually the only foreigner to be, to weddings in several countries. There is no more revealing look into any culture than a wedding and no more fun can be had.

We have taken a week to visit Donna’s family during the Fiesta week. Each small village in the Philippines hosts such a fiesta, it is the hallmark of their lives. This village celebrates Saint Ignacio, the patron saint, with a week of fun and merriment.  The epicenter of the event is the basketball court/stage/church right next to the Escartin family home.  The family is lived in this spot for many generations and are held in high regard. Like most large Filipino families, relatives are abundant. Donna has 27 first cousins on one side.  Those that are not related seem to adopt the family so the home is always bustling. I have been welcomed into this home with open arms.

The Fiesta has several events; I have written about the Miss Gay Pageant already. There is dancing nightly, one night for seniors, love dancing with Donna’s 86-year-old granny. There is an Alumni night, one of the most important. Each class from the high school has a table, they decorate and offer food and drinks at each table. I looked for a 1970 table but only found them back to 1985 haha.. We brought Papa a brand new pair of dancing shoes just for this night.

Each day there is a procession, and the biggest one comes from the school. Donna was up early preparing Piam’s attire, every mother was. I have seen that no one on earth loves their children more than the Filipinos and they have a lot of them to love. Families of 6-9 are average, many bigger. Each kid is a treasure and you can see it at the school.  I have been picking Piam up most days after school. The kids come out in their neat clean uniforms, smiles beaming to meet all the parents, also gleaming with big grins. All the worries of adult life seem to vanish at this juncture. I would say to all my American adult friends if you ever have a bout with depression, loneliness or the pressures of life pile too high, get on a plane, go to a small Filipino village and hang out as the kids are picked up from school. This will be far more therapeutic than all the shrinks and all the drugs in the land, cheaper too! Oh and an old fat white guy (only one within miles) on a motorcycle watching this all with a tear in his eye is not immediately arrested hahaha. They all seemed to understand. 

So kids marched, Ladyboys promenaded, old folks polkaed and the Fiesta went on. This year we had a special treat, attending local wedding, one of Donna’s classmates was the bride. There is nothing bigger in the life of a Filipino than the day they get married. Unlike the Western world they only get one shot at it, here divorce is virtually impossible. Given the economic realities of the area the wedding was opulent, clearly well planned and spectacular. Once again I am the only foreigner and I am welcomed with open arms, one guy in the procession handed me a nice camera so I got to take pictures all day.

It was the look on the faces of the older and youngest of the crowd that spoke to me. An old wrinkled, rugged, eyes of the ages, small framed man was obviously the father of the bride. His tie not quite right and baggy dress suit, and diamond bright loving eyes cut to the soul. He had clearly seen a tough life, raised a big family and was reaping the rewards of his years.

This being a strictly Catholic area the nuptials were held in a new, work in progress Catholic Church. The architecture was classic Catholic/Filipino fusion, cement with sheet metal roof in a classic semicircle with Roman type arches defining the entrances. Inside it was all “the Church” mammoth statue of Christ on the Cross, this time with brown skin and black hair as it should be.

I was told this was to be a simple wedding and guests were limited as was the budget. This caused some stir in the village as the long standing tradition is everyone is invited and all weddings become a community event. Donna’s mama was invited but none of the sisters so she stayed home in protest. Given this dynamic I was a bit apprehensive but I was met with open arms and big smiles. Now limited here does not mean a few friends and a preacher, oh no. There were at least ten bride’s maids and ushers in matching attire, three ring bearers, and a full on choir. I would love to see a wedding without the “limitations”.

Back to the house, preparations for the big day coming and the pig. Each family raises a pig for the fiesta, it is fed well and lives in a nice field, all is good until the fiesta comes. Everyone enjoys the fiesta but the pig, albeit the guest of honor.  As much as I want to immerse myself in all things Filipino, I passed on the pig slaughter, ok I’m a wimp. The Pig blood is coveted; Donna often orders a gross soup made of it. To get the blood just right it has to be taken while the pig is alive, more bad news for the pig. The critter of course protests this procedure, loud and long.  This day of the pig had a new twist, the power was out and it was raining hard, no power no freezer. All the families waited, good news for the pig. Soon the power came back on and you could hear the pigs screaming all around the village, byby pigs.

Now my many vegan friends would be justifiably appalled by this seemingly barbaric ritual. Even I who like my pork winced. One has to look at the big picture, this pig, who I petted the day before, led a life of peace and happiness, wild spirit. He was not raised in a pig factory, denied daylight or companionship. He was not force fed a ghastly array of chemicals, anti-biotics or hormones. He lived in proverbial hog heaven then went to the real one and I enjoyed the pork adobo. Thanks Mr. Pig.

So Fiesta over and life went back to normal, we packed the bike and headed home. All this leaving me grateful for the experience, beautiful ladyboys, blushing brides, dancing with Grandma, playing patty cake with a dozen kids, all gleaming and screaming “one more time, Tito Brian, one more time”.

Make Your Dream Your Story

Capt. Brian Calvert

M/Y Furthur

www.furthuradventures.com

Nothing opens the window to a people’s heart or gives a clearer insight into a culture than their children and their rites of passage. I have been fortunate to have been very immersed in children of many cultures, always an enlightening experience. I have also been blessed with being invited, usually the only foreigner to be, to weddings in several countries. There is no more revealing look into any culture than a wedding and no more fun can be had.

We have taken a week to visit Donna’s family during the Fiesta week. Each small village in the Philippines hosts such a fiesta, it is the hallmark of their lives. This village celebrates Saint Ignacio, the patron saint, with a week of fun and merriment.  The epicenter of the event is the basketball court/stage/church right next to the Escartin family home.  The family is lived in this spot for many generations and are held in high regard. Like most large Filipino families, relatives are abundant. Donna has 27 first cousins on one side.  Those that are not related seem to adopt the family so the home is always bustling. I have been welcomed into this home with open arms.

The Fiesta has several events; I have written about the Miss Gay Pageant already. There is dancing nightly, one night for seniors, love dancing with Donna’s 86-year-old granny. There is an Alumni night, one of the most important. Each class from the high school has a table, they decorate and offer food and drinks at each table. I looked for a 1970 table but only found them back to 1985 haha.. We brought Papa a brand new pair of dancing shoes just for this night.

Each day there is a procession, and the biggest one comes from the school. Donna was up early preparing Piam’s attire, every mother was. I have seen that no one on earth loves their children more than the Filipinos and they have a lot of them to love. Families of 6-9 are average, many bigger. Each kid is a treasure and you can see it at the school.  I have been picking Piam up most days after school. The kids come out in their neat clean uniforms, smiles beaming to meet all the parents, also gleaming with big grins. All the worries of adult life seem to vanish at this juncture. I would say to all my American adult friends if you ever have a bout with depression, loneliness or the pressures of life pile too high, get on a plane, go to a small Filipino village and hang out as the kids are picked up from school. This will be far more therapeutic than all the shrinks and all the drugs in the land, cheaper too! Oh and an old fat white guy (only one within miles) on a motorcycle watching this all with a tear in his eye is not immediately arrested hahaha. They all seemed to understand. 

So kids marched, Ladyboys promenaded, old folks polkaed and the Fiesta went on. This year we had a special treat, attending local wedding, one of Donna’s classmates was the bride. There is nothing bigger in the life of a Filipino than the day they get married. Unlike the Western world they only get one shot at it, here divorce is virtually impossible. Given the economic realities of the area the wedding was opulent, clearly well planned and spectacular. Once again I am the only foreigner and I am welcomed with open arms, one guy in the procession handed me a nice camera so I got to take pictures all day.

It was the look on the faces of the older and youngest of the crowd that spoke to me. An old wrinkled, rugged, eyes of the ages, small framed man was obviously the father of the bride. His tie not quite right and baggy dress suit, and diamond bright loving eyes cut to the soul. He had clearly seen a tough life, raised a big family and was reaping the rewards of his years.

This being a strictly Catholic area the nuptials were held in a new, work in progress Catholic Church. The architecture was classic Catholic/Filipino fusion, cement with sheet metal roof in a classic semicircle with Roman type arches defining the entrances. Inside it was all “the Church” mammoth statue of Christ on the Cross, this time with brown skin and black hair as it should be.

I was told this was to be a simple wedding and guests were limited as was the budget. This caused some stir in the village as the long standing tradition is everyone is invited and all weddings become a community event. Donna’s mama was invited but none of the sisters so she stayed home in protest. Given this dynamic I was a bit apprehensive but I was met with open arms and big smiles. Now limited here does not mean a few friends and a preacher, oh no. There were at least ten bride’s maids and ushers in matching attire, three ring bearers, and a full on choir. I would love to see a wedding without the “limitations”.

Back to the house, preparations for the big day coming and the pig. Each family raises a pig for the fiesta, it is fed well and lives in a nice field, all is good until the fiesta comes. Everyone enjoys the fiesta but the pig, albeit the guest of honor.  As much as I want to immerse myself in all things Filipino, I passed on the pig slaughter, ok I’m a wimp. The Pig blood is coveted; Donna often orders a gross soup made of it. To get the blood just right it has to be taken while the pig is alive, more bad news for the pig. The critter of course protests this procedure, loud and long.  This day of the pig had a new twist, the power was out and it was raining hard, no power no freezer. All the families waited, good news for the pig. Soon the power came back on and you could hear the pigs screaming all around the village, byby pigs.

Now my many vegan friends would be justifiably appalled by this seemingly barbaric ritual. Even I who like my pork winced. One has to look at the big picture, this pig, who I petted the day before, led a life of peace and happiness, wild spirit. He was not raised in a pig factory, denied daylight or companionship. He was not force fed a ghastly array of chemicals, anti-biotics or hormones. He lived in proverbial hog heaven then went to the real one and I enjoyed the pork adobo. Thanks Mr. Pig.

So Fiesta over and life went back to normal, we packed the bike and headed home. All this leaving me grateful for the experience, beautiful ladyboys, blushing brides, dancing with Grandma, playing patty cake with a dozen kids, all gleaming and screaming “one more time, Tito Brian, one more time”.

Make Your Dream Your Story

Capt. Brian Calvert

M/Y Furthur

www.furthuradventures.com

The young cadet James T Kirk, a rebellious lad, was put to the test. He was given the Koybayashi Maru, a simulator test with a no win scenario. This test was to examine how a future captain could handle certain failure and inevitable tragedy. For the non Treky’s the ship hears a distress signal in a neutral no go area, entering it will be seen as an act of war bringing unsurmountable retaliation and certain death. Not heading the distress call means certain death for the comrades on the other ship, there is no win. Kirk does not accept failure as the only choice and sneaks into the exam room and alters the program allowing him to save the distressed ship and defeat the enemy.  This episode is one of the most famous and defines Capt. Kirk and his career.

Last night at the San Ignacio Miss Gay Pageant I saw ten Captain Kirks in full spender.  Young people who were given their own Koybayashi Maru’s; life’s no win scenario. Each were born with the wrong identity, a girl’s mind and soul in a boy’s body.  This could make for a life of depression, shame and confusion but they chose not to live that life. The replaced all the negativity with love and beauty, as the young cadet did, they changed their reality and became winners.

Gubat is Donna’s home village, her family is a keen part of this small, very Catholic and conservative tight knit community. Each year they celebrate the Patron Saint, San Ignacio with a week of events and Fiesta, it is a big deal!  One such event is the Miss Gay pageant, the ramrod for this is an reluctantly approaching middle aged spunky Ladyboy, Cherry Pie. When Cherry Pie asked me to be a sponsor and judge for the pageant I jumped at the chance, then realized how serious an honor and responsibility it was. I gotta say I was, to quote Steven Stills at Woodstock, “scared shitless”. I hit the web googling “how to judge a beauty pageant” as I knew how much work went into all this and I had to do a good job.

The pageant started late, hey we were waiting for ladies to get beautiful after all. There were seven judges, I being the only foreigner. The arena was packed, young and old attending. I sat twitching in my table until the first candidate walked on stage, wow!  She was spectacular, she walked by the judge’s tables and gave me a wink. I thought no one could be better, just give her the prize and let’s go home. Then the second, third and so on came up, all gorgeous and any a possible winner. Then I thought, this was not going to be easy!  

The first event was the creative attire, full head dresses and some native influence prevailed. Each girl came to a microphone right in front of me and gave a little talk, all but one in English. Their dialogs were enlightening and refreshing, they were smart and beautiful, and I thought; this is not getting any easier.

The events unfolded, sport attire, evening wear, and when the swim wear portion was half way through, ol’ mother nature provided the special effects, a royal down pour of rain.  People came from every direction to help and moved all seven of us judges, microphones and committee tables onto the dry stage and the show went on. The girls undaunted kept the smiles and sloshed by in those wobbly high heels. The rain stopped and we dried off the judge’s tables and we kept at it.

The ten were reduced to five finalists, and that is when the judges got to ask the questions. I had pondered this part a great deal, what should I ask. I even posted to my facebook friends asking for suggestions.  I got drawn first, asked the candidate to tell me, as a tourist, why should I come to this area and what should I see. Well she must have known my story as she told me I came for the right reason, to find love and she knew I had.  Some of the other judges gave better and more demanding questions about the candidates’ views on the death penalty, gay rights and even what would they ask the President if they could (actually that is one suggestion my facebook friends gave). I was moved as one told of her gratitude for finding a man who loves and accepts her for what she is.  Again all but one gave the answers in perfect English, the one in Tagalog must have been good, Donna who was supposed to translate was laughing too hard to talk. I gave her high marks for wit and audience reaction, had to.

Our score sheets gave three criteria, beauty/brains, 50% Poise, 30% and audience reaction, 10%.  For each division for each candidate. After each division the sheets were tallied. At the end there was a tie for 3rd and 4th so the judges were polled. Although I had a favorite I was not at all sure who had won, it was that close.

Before the main awards, the subsequent awards were given, so every girl got something and that was good. It takes an immense amount of courage to do what these gals do, immense. The top girls are incredible but it is the others I had the most respect for; the kinda pudgy one who walked on stage like a princess or the clearly older one who, although shaking, never gave a hint of giving up, always “on”.  I was glad they each got an award they deserved it.

So with great excitement the prizes were presented, 4th runner up, and so on until only two are standing.  Then 2nd runner up (my favorite) and the winner. As I had sponsored first prize, Donna and I gave the award and I got to crown the new San Igancio Miss Gay for 2016.

I left exhausted, I had focused hard for over four hours, trembling with excitement and humbled and honored to be a part of this event. This is just another of the amazingly enlightening experiences I have had on this great adventure. Another experience one has to set sail to experience and that no amount of money could buy, thanks San Ignacio, thank you to the ten wonderful girls and thanks Gubat for making me feel at home. 

Make Your Dream Your Story

Capt. Brian Calvert

M/Y Furthur

www.furthuradventures.com