A Morning in the Mountains, Thinking About Africa

When I woke up this morning, I could see the first glimpse of sunlight sneaking over the 4,000-meter mountain peaks on the opposite side of the valley. It was still freezing cold outside, so I jumped into some warm clothes, made myself a coffee, and sat down on the balcony to watch the sun slowly make its way into the valley.

I used the early morning light to finish some office work that I hadn't managed to get done yesterday, and as soon as the sun became a little warmer, I moved outside again and enjoyed a morning that almost felt like summer.

I'm still staying in this almost 200-year-old Swiss wooden house here in Beatenberg, with its dark, almost black wooden facade that has been exposed to the sun for generations. Sitting in front of it, looking across the green valley toward the dark mountains and their sugar-coated white peaks, with a perfectly blue sky above and the constant ringing of cowbells in the background, I couldn't help thinking how much I have enjoyed my time here.

I still don't quite understand why the Swiss feel the need to put a bell on pretty much every animal they own, but somehow it has become part of the soundtrack of my mornings.

The Comfort of Being Here

One thing I have really come to appreciate is sleeping in cold, fresh mountain air. Being able to crawl under a warm blanket at night, sleep properly, and wake up to a crisp morning is something I will probably miss quite a bit once I'm back in West Africa.

And then there is the freedom of everyday life here. The internet works, the fridge has everything I need, and I can decide whether I want to spend the day working in my office, sitting outside on the balcony with another coffee, or putting on my running shoes and heading into the mountains.

Especially the running has been an absolute treat. I can simply choose a trail, head up into the mountains, and spend hours outside without anybody stopping me, asking me for something, or trying to sell me anything. And there is this wonderful feeling of not having to think much about security at all.

I haven't really locked anything here. I even spent a couple of months sleeping in a tent throughout the summer, and nobody bothered me. Of course, that doesn't mean nothing could ever happen, but compared to some of the places I've been traveling through over the last years, it is a kind of peace of mind that I have come to appreciate enormously.

Back to a Different Rhythm

And in less than three weeks, all of this is going to change again.

I've booked my flight back to The Gambia for November 3, and when I checked the weather forecast the other day, I was reminded pretty quickly of what is waiting for me. Temperatures somewhere between 28 and 35 degrees Celsius, with 28 degrees being the nighttime temperature. So I guess I'll soon be trading my warm blanket and fresh mountain air for hot and humid nights aboard Santana.

There will be weather forecasts to check, wind directions to consider, and shopping trips along dusty roads where finding the things you need can sometimes turn into a project of its own.

Here in Switzerland, if something is missing, I can simply order it online and three days later it arrives at the doorstep. In West Africa, things work a little differently, which is why I've spent quite some time over the last weeks trying to think of everything I might need for the next six months.

I think I've bought and prepared most of it by now, although I'm pretty sure I'll discover something I've forgotten as soon as I'm back on the boat.

And I'm genuinely curious to see how it will feel to settle into that completely different rhythm again.

First, a Little Boat Work

Before things become more relaxed, though, there is still some work waiting for me.

I want to get Santana out of the water in Dakar to work on her underwater hull, which sounds simple enough until you start thinking about all the things that need to come together.

First, I need to get the boat ready and find a suitable weather window to sail north from The Gambia to Dakar. Then I need to anchor there and hope that the one available slip is actually free when I need it. And of course, they also need to have the antifouling paint available so I can get the work done while the boat is out of the water.

So there are quite a few things that need to fall into place, and I'm not entirely sure yet whether everything will work out the way I've planned it.

But that's something I'll figure out once I'm there.

Hopefully, by the end of November, Santana will be back in the water, the most important repairs will be done, and I can settle into something that feels a little more like vacation mode again. Although vacation might not be quite the right word, considering that I'll still be working full-time for my coaching business.

At least I'll be able to choose where to spend my days, and hopefully there will be a few new places to explore along the way.

For now, though, I'm sitting here on the balcony with my coffee, enjoying the sunshine, the mountains, and the cowbells, and realizing that I'm not particularly eager to leave all of this behind just yet.

But I'm also looking forward to being back on Santana.

I guess that's one of the interesting things about moving between such different worlds. Every time I settle into one, I start appreciating things that I know I'll miss in the other.

Anyway, these are just some midweek morning thoughts from my balcony here in Switzerland.

I hope you're having a good week, wherever you are.

Stay curious, stay salty,

Floh