I started a project about two weeks ago which was probably ill advised: I’m going through old photo albums scanning the old photographs. Sounds dumb, huh? Well I had my reasons.
But I say it was ill advised because it is painful. When you are going through an old photo album you keep running into land mines. Like, you turn a page and there is a photo you don’t want to see. I’ve done a lot of crying.
Even though I took almost all the photos, and remember them all, I am still devastated when I turn that page.
Then why am I doing it?
I’d been clearing out stuff I no longer need. It started with Judy’s clothes. I sent three bags full to the mountains where they might do some good, and whoever wears them I won’t see them walking the streets of La Cruz. I couldn’t bear that.
I looked around the boat so see what else could go and decided that the eleven photo albums we’ve had stashed since 2004, when I went digital, could be next; they were bulky and heavy and while Judy loved them I never much looked through them. Oh, I’d fetch the odd photo from time to time, but just sit there and flip pages? Never. But Judy did. She treasured them. So to honor her I decided to scan them and save them in the cloud. I would not throw away her treasured photos.
But while I started that project for a good cause it resulted in a lot of pain.
In the first place it’s too much work. I’ve been going on the project for a couple of weeks and it’s not done yet and that is keeping me from other work which needs to be done, but actually that’s not the problem. The issue is that a lot of my photos are of Judy so on every page of every album there is a photo of Judy with her lovely face and fantastic smile. I remember each shot and I remember the circumstances. Even though many of the photos are just happy snaps and I can scan them and move to the next bunch it keeps happening that “Boom!” there is one which brings back the most painful memories.
I have to treat those images with the special care they deserve. I edit them and save them carefully, making them just right. It takes time to make each of these images perfect and it gives me a lot of time to feel sorry for myself. At this point in my grieving process I am mostly feeling sorry for myself. This photo scanning project is just feeding that grieving.
Did I mention that Judy left me notes? She has been through these albums before me and she has labeled many of the photos. There are hundreds of photos and next to many of them there are small printed labels. Sometime, I don’t know when, she typed them into the computer and printed them. Then she put each label on the right photo. I didn’t know she was doing that. When did she have the time? And on the occasional photo which was not yet labeled, on the back she had written a note on a yellow sticky. I flip them over and there is her handwriting telling me what it is. These notes are for me. I never expected that, it devastates me.
What really keeps hitting me is that I most of these shots are meaningless to anyone else on the whole frigging planet. Why am I saving them? For whom? All I want to do is say, “Look honey, do you remember this?” To whom do I say that too?
But it’s like that Brandi Carlile song I keep quoting, “Each line across my face tells a story of where I’ve been… but what good is a story if you’ve got no-one to tell it too?” At his point, from 1998 when we went cruising across the seas until now I have about 250 photos of Judy. They tell a story of who she was but what good is a story if you’ve got no-one to tell it too? Maybe I should tell it to you. Someday I will.
But what is worse is that these images show her “aliveness”. In these images I see her alive every day for all those years, then, in one instant that life is gone. It is beyond comprehension.
But that is life, isn’t it? We are all created in a moment of joining, some DNA comes together and a new life is created. Then we live and later we die. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. In Judy’s case it was a bit more than 72 years. Too short to my way of thinking. And she is gone, and whatever it was which was inside of her head, behind that glorious smile all those years, we can only guess, I didn’t ask her often enough, but I know it was joyous, loving, and generous because that is who she was. Whatever, it is gone now and I have only my memories, photos, and tears.
I’ve got good memories, and plenty of tears, and I will keep the photos, so my work will continue.
I told a person who wrote to me that my life was very blessed by having Judy for the time that we were together, “Yes, absolutely, I was blessed by having her for 40 years. But it was not enough.”
Another person entered the conversation and replied, “It would never be ‘enough’. But one of you has to go first. And she gave you 100% of what she had to give.”
She gave me 100% of what she had to give
That is the most profound statement anyone has made to me about this, Judy gave me 100% of what she had to give, and in the end, that included her life.
We’ve talked for years, Judy and I, about how Judy found life on the boat increasingly difficult due to health issues and increasing frailties, that she felt that eventually we’d have to be off the boat. We both loved our life on the boat but for Judy it was getting harder. Living ashore might be easier. I said, “I’m not ready to give up this life.” and she agreed, she wasn’t ready either, but it was coming.
“Maybe we can delay that change,” I said. “Maybe we can make things easier for you where we are. We can change how we sail the boat so sailing is easier, and I can help you more around the boat in our daily living, so we can keep on doing it.”
Judy, being Judy, sucked it up and kept on sailing hard, working hard, and doing whatever she had to do so that we could continue this life, so we could live on the boat, sail the boat, and race the boat and be an integral part of the boating community where we lived. During this time of increased weakness and pain she continued without complaint to be the beloved Judy who brought light and joy to everyone whose path crossed hers.
On the boat she always did whatever it took to get the job done. She tackled her responsibilities with ever greater dedication and determination. She never let up, even though it hurt.
When her job on the race crew changed to navigator she became the best navigator we ever had. She said. “This is my only job and I am going to do it right.” She wanted it to be clear that she was a part of the team, not a passenger. But it wasn’t her only job. She was a key part of the team in so many more ways than just being the best navigator we ever had. She monitored the entire boat and watched every member of the crew. She helped us avoid countless boat handling problems. She packed all the kites. Plus she was “Mom” to everyone. And when the boat went to sea it was Judy who made sure it was ready. In port it was Judy who made living on the boat work for us. She did it all.
But this came at a great cost to her.
I recall the last sailing trip we did together, just the two of us. It was a horribly rough trip up the coast from Tennacatita, in the heaviest of winds and biggest of seas. I needed her to steer while I got the mainsail down. To keep from being thrown off the boat in the big waves she had to sit on the cockpit floor and reach behind her with one hand to steer and while she eased the halyard with the other. A huge wave struck the boat and yanked the tiller impossibly hard, which injured her shoulder, which was already hurting, but she held on and kept the boat steady then tacked when I called for it. She gave 100%. And then she cried.
One day a few months ago Judy said, “I want to get an MRI, the pain and weakness is too much.”
The MRI showed that she had problems with some discs in her neck, but that it was operable; a common operation which is often done as an outpatient.
So Judy she went in for the operation. The one which might make some things easier so we could continue sailing and living aboard, which we both wanted but in reality it was for me mostly.
It was that operation which killed her.
So yes, she gave me 100% of what she had to give.
I think she sacrificed herself for this life that we chose and I am dumb struck and shattered by the depth of that sacrifice.
Last evening, June 10 at around 5:00 PM, Judy passed away
It has been a long struggle to live for her since her cardiac arrest in the operating room at Punta Mita Hospital on May 10, 30 days, in which she fought valiantly but ultimately lost.
Judy will be missed by many, most of all by myself. She was a light in the world and a generous loving friend to all. I am sure and none of us can quite fathom why she was taken so suddenly and without warning.
I don't know her last thoughts, she texted her friends that she would be at Mexican Train Dominos and then she and I spoke, "See you in three hours" and they wheeled her away never to return.
Judy's passing leaves a hole in the world that cannot be filled and an ache in our hearts.
She will be remembered as a wonderful person and a great sailor.
Dear Friends, I want to let you know that Judy is in the hospital.
Judy had serious cardiac complications during a scheduled spinal surgery at Punta Mita Hospital, im Mexico on Wednesday, May 10. She has been given the best care and treatment and is now in Intensive Care Unit there. She is under critical care treatment and is sedated and is stable.
Judy has been sedated and unconscious now, as I write this, for 16 days and she has had complicastions, but the Dr's are optimistic. She has been breathingn on her own, and her vital signs have been good, however there is still cause for concern, and the road to recovery will be long.
This is the most devastating thing that has ever occurred on our lives, and it is hard to handle.
Fred
Note from Catalina Liana (Kat):
With a heavy heart, I share this very important and sad news, yet we are very optimistic that the community including close friends can help Judy Jensen & Fred through this health storm they are facing We are anticipating Judy's recovery and having the best care possible. She is a large part of our sailing community, and having her healthy and back with us is all we can pray for now. Any donation will go a long way We can do this with your help!
It’s getting hotter here in La Cruz but we’re doing fine; we’ve lived in hotter places. Like everyone who has chosen to stay here during the summer we spend a lot of time sheltering from the heat.
Mornings and evenings are cooler however, and cloudy days are also good, and we do what we need to do outside, even on the hot days. Normally, however, we hang out where there is an air-conditioner, in Wings’ cabin, for instance.
We also know that sailing will be rare for us this summer because it is really a lot of work in this heat, but we’ll go out occasionally despite the heat if it is a perfect day and we know we’ll like it when we do.
Some days I grab the Nikon around sunset and venture out. That’s when the light gets good for photography. I am often surprised at how many people are out at that time. During the day it is a ghost town around here but in the evenings you find Mexican chicas jogging along the Malacon with their pony tails flying and Mexican families playing in the surf over at the beach. There are always the boys playing soccer. The locals know how to cope with the heat. To that extent, I guess we do too.
Meanwhile we have hurricanes to think about. This is hurricane season and they have already started brewing. Blanco went by already, and Andreas before that, and both missed us. The local experts say that the hurricanes always miss us in Banderas Bay, but Carlos, the next one, seems to be curving right towards us. People are preparing. We are watching closely. So this season will be interesting I guess.
Click here for more photos, including the projected track for Carlos!
We had a plan to leave Crews Inn Marina in Trinidad Wednesday at 13:00, motor to Scotland Bay, anchor there and relax for a few hours before setting out into the Atlantic just before nightfall.
The reality was that after the trials of getting out of Chaguarmas and then having boat problems on the way to Scotland Bay (easily fixed, but still…) when it came time to up the anchor again neither Judy or I had much enthusiasm for the idea. All we wanted to do was take a nap.
So we stayed. That was Wednesday.
It rained for two days; rained hard. We filled the water tanks and did a lot of sleeping but by Friday we were ready go, rain or not, and so late Friday afternoon we weighed the anchor and motored out of the Boca into the Atlantic Ocean, looking for some wind and looking for that next paradise.
Sunrise found us beating towards the Island of Tobago and by mid-morning we fetched up in Store Bay, Tobago.
Then we had customs and immigration to deal with.
It seems that when you clear out for Grenada you’re supposed to show up in Grenada, not back in Trinidad and Tobago, which in fact, is one country. We spent the better part of Saturday trekking back and forth between official’s offices before getting all the proper stamps and documents. But we did it and so we were made legal.
Store Bay was alright, we stayed for a few days, it rained a bit, and then we thought we’d mosey on up the coast to Charlotteville and see the sights along the way.
The first stop was Mt. Irvine Bay and that was OK too; it rained some more and we filled the tanks again, met a few nice folks anchored there and watched the surfers, but the next two stops were impossible. Both Castera Bay and Parlatuvre were rough and crowded with fishing boats. Parlatuvre in fact was so small it would have been downright dangerous to stay there with only about 100 feet of broiling water between us and the rocks behind us after anchoring clear of the fishing boats. We could not stay.
The only thing to do was to head onward to Charlotteville and hope we got there before dark and hope it was a good spot.
It turned out to be a nice sail, even if it was a twenty mile beat for the day; we had steady winds and a long blue swell and we made good time to weather. We dropped the hook in a very nice place called Pirates Bay just around the corner from the bustling village of Charlotteville, Tobago. Here we might stay for a while; it is quiet and scenic.
I fell in love with this place the first time I saw it, coming in through the Boca on that morning in May with the soaring birds overhead and a new country on our horizon; there it was off to the left, a small bay, surrounded by mountains and green trees and shimmering blue waters and a few anchored sailboats, passing by us without fanfare, not mentioned in the guide books. But it captured me; it looked stunning on that morning back then on our arrival to Trinidad, and it still does.
So we came again to Scotland Bay now, in October, when the moon is full and the season beginning to turn and we dropped the hook and it is a magical place with mountains on three sides, four if you count the dog leg on the way in, and no houses, just birds circling and fishes surfacing with a gentle swish. It is Nature.
There are three or four boats sharing Scotland Bay with us, a German boat way back at the head of the bay, keeping to themselves, and a Santa Cruise 70 called Hotel California, anchored near us; the captain, Steve, is painting the deck. Off the point an Alajuela from Portland is swinging quietly and in the mouth there is a converted minesweeper with a Dutch family aboard.
I think for a moment that this crowd here is not your normal Caribbean anchorage crowd but maybe it is: international, varied, everyone here for their own reasons, intentionally away from the normal Caribbean social scene. Maybe those of us who cherish and seek quiet places like Scotland Bay are as much a part of the scene as the crowds in places like Chaguaramas and Prickly Bay.
Scotland Bay itself is a good anchorage, almost bullet proof, or so it seems today in a Northerly. Maybe in a hurricane wind from the south it would be untenable, I don’t know but now however, while the trade winds are blowing, it seems perfect.
We came for the clean water, to commission the water maker, and to get some peace and quiet after the hustle and bustle of Chag Bay.
Tonight we sat outside after dinner and listened to music on the outside speakers and watched the moon come up over the mountains to the east of us, Harrison Mountain the chart says.
Then came on a song from the past, from our hearts, clear and pure; Pokarekare Ana by Hayley Westerna, the Mauri song from New Zealand, and we cried. It surprised us and hit our emotions. The song matches Scotland Bay.
Life is just too good.
Fred & Judy, SV Wings, Trinidad
Click here for more photos of Judy and of Wings in Scotland Bay.
Click here for other recent photos from Chaguaramas Bay.
Here is Hayley's song:
Click here to read another story about a magical place: Tanjung Ruh
This Indian Ocean passage had been going on for a couple of weeks and was nowhere near over. Each morning, as we came on deck for our watches, we surveyed the sea around us and saw the waves extending all the way to the horizon, topped with white foam and blown by the never-ending trade winds and it was hard to fathom the vastness of the ocean. The scene never changed day after day.
And it wasn’t easy sailing.
One morning, the duration of the passage having started to weigh on me, I went onto the very bow with a book and my music player thinking I could relax and pass some time, but I couldn’t relax and I didn’t stay long; the noise and motion and tension of our progress through the water was simply too intense up there and it soon drove me off.
We were flying across the ocean with the great pressing power of the Southeast Trades coming constantly from behind and huge white topped swells from the south passing endlessly under our keel. The stern would rise on the front of the swell until we were pointed straight down into the trough, then, as the wave lifted us, slide forward with a roar until the crest passed beneath and the bow, 10 feet in the air, and I with it, pointed skyward, poised for the next drop into the trough and the next mad surge down the next front, nearly burying itself again, then rise up and repeat that process on the next wave, and the next, and the next; carrying us forward at a mad and unrelenting pace with every line and spar and square foot of the hull straining and each of us in the crew feeling it all and hearing it all and wishing it would ease off a bit.
But it didn’t.
I could have slowed down too, but I didn't. We were making good time and we had a long way to go and I pressed onward. There is something that drives me to put miles on each day.
The waves were at an angle and they threw us to the side and the wind vane, half a step behind and working overtime to keep up, yanked hard on the tiller on each wave. At the extreme forward end the swerving of the boat was exaggerated and threatened to toss me off into the sea, or maybe the rudder would simply lose it’s grip and we would spin out of control, as we certainly must if ever we got a bit too far off course, into the wild flapping frenzy and chaos of a round up and knock down, crashed onto our side in the boiling sea, spilling the air from our sails and maybe spilling ourselves too. God only knows what damage we’d suffer in that event. It was a fine edge we walked and the disaster was always close by and we knew it. I dreaded it. If it happened while I was on the bow…I couldn’t imagine it.
I gathered my belongings and made my way back to the cockpit. There was no relief from this passage other than achieving the destination, and that was a week away.
It's not surprising that this image of our Indian Ocean crossing is the one which sticks in my mind but the funny thing is, as terrible and stressful as it was at the time and still is when I remember it, the memory compels me and makes me think about the next one. I want to put myself out there again.
We could either haul the boat at Rebak's boatyard and have them pressure wash it or scrub it ourselves but one way or the other the bottom needed cleaning.
Plus we needed fuel and Telaga Harbor has both a fuel dock and a clean anchorage.
So we went to Telaga for a few days.
We filled up the tanks at their fuel dock and then we anchored in the anchorage and scrubbed the bottom.
It took around 3 hours, all told, me doing the prop and the lower bits and Judy doing the waterline and down several feet. It surprised me after I did the keel and rudder how little of the rest of the bottom was left for me to do; Judy had reached down at least five feet along the full length of both sides. It seems that her fitness level is pretty good and I think mine is OK too. Cleaning the bottom of a 43 foot boat with a scrub pad and just snorkle and mask, and fins tests that in short order. Anyhow I finished the middle of the bottom and we were done.
Both of us working together; just as we always have.
Wings stood out from Tanjung Heads into a fresh NE breeze on a crisp Thursday morning and spread full sail to the following wind.
Shortly after the main filled they hoisted the asymmetrical kite which opened with a crack and they bore off to the west on a blue ocean under a clear sky leaving a straight white wake to the east behind them.
The port jibe would take them into the north shore of Langkawi so they sailed on starboard toward Thailand’s Taratao Island, watching over their left shoulder for the proper time to jibe on a good line back to clear Chinchin, the NW cape of Langkawi.
When they drew close to Taratao and were a mile off and it appeared that they would soon be calling unannounced into Thailand they jibed the kite and turned back toward Malaysia and still needing to sail lower they set and pulled back the pole.
The wind built and a swell rolled in from behind. A puff hit and the boat threatened to round up. The helmsman pulled hard on the tiller and the boat slid down the face of the wave and surged forward.
The knotmeter showed low nines; it was fun.
They sailed around the leeward side of Langkawi, staying off by 2 and a half miles, and kept their wind while boats in closer to the island would have been stalled, if there were any, which there were not; they were sailing alone.
As expected the wind then came around the island from the other side of the mountain and it went forward. Dropping the kite and setting the #2 they sheeted in on port tack for Rebak Island and sailed close to the wind.
At the Rebak harbor entrance they dropped the sails and motored into the channel. Wings had sped over the 24 miles from Tanjung Ruh to Rebak in a short time and pulled into port before lunch; a good run.
Click here to see the other shots of our sail back to Rebak.
We explored an isolated beach near Datai Bay in the Zodiac and we were surprised to see that all the seashells on the sands ahead of us were scurrying away from us; hundreds of them.
When we got close to one it simply plopped down on the sand and remained motionless, looking like any ordinary seashell.
I picked one up and it looked like a snail. I dropped it back onto the sand, perplexed. It just lay there.
Then another one caught my eye as it moved with surprising speed and then just as suddenly stopped.
I picked it up too and saw legs tucked in on the bottom side. I saw that it was not a snail but a crab inside a snail’s shell. A Hermit Crab! This whole place was overrun by Hermit Crabs.
We named this place Hermit Crab Beach, and we had fun looking at these creatures. One got so flustered that I had picked him up that he crawled right out of his house and jumped off my hand into the water and ran away abandoning his home. Judy picked up two others with pretty houses and introduced them to each other. She though she would like to keep at least one of the shells and maybe she could entice these two to move in together but instead they got into a bit if a scuffle and neither was rash enough to flee without his house.
Both were returned to the beach.
Watching the Hermit Crabs made this little day trip in the dingy into a real treat, and a surprising one at that but we should not have been too surprised; You never know what to expect when you land on an empty beach in a remote place.
Cruising sailors visiting countries like Thailand, Singapore and Malaysia, which have become popular destinations for medical tourism, may take advantage of the excellent facilities and low cost of basic medical care, elective surgical procedures and emergency care which are available there.
When Judy needed back surgery we visited Putra Medical Center in Kedah Province, Malaysia and we were impressed by the clean and modern facility with its state-of-the-art MRI and CAT-Scan diagnostic equipment, the obvious competence and efficiency of the staff, and, more than anything, the confidence exuded by of the surgeon who examined Judy and who would later perform the operation.
Judy chose to have her surgery there was admitted two days later. Her operation was very successful and it was about one eighth the cost of a comparable procedure in the USA. What was more important to us was the attention and personal care she received; we were very impressed with Putra medical Center.
During Judy’s hospital stay at Putra we talked with Dato Dr. Lim Kim Huat, the founder and owner of Putra Medical Center, and his wife, Dato Lee Gaik Cheng, who is CEO. Both Dr. Lim and his wife grew up in Alor Star and they are committed to providing the best, most cost effective, care they can for the people of this area. Dr. Lim, while a medical student, once had to take his mother on a long and rough motorbike trip to Penang to obtain the medical care she needed because no facilities were then available in Alor Star. That was when he made a promise to himself to someday build a hospital in his home town; a promise which, with the support and encouragement of his wife, he has kept.
Dato Dr. Lim Kim Huat, and Dato Lee Gaik Cheng told us that the 14-year-old, 230 bed, Putra Medical Center had 13 resident specialists, a total staff of 375, eight operating theaters, and is part of the comprehensive network of hospitals and clinics, which provides care to Malaysians and foreigners as well.
Malaysian medical tourism annually attracts over 300,000 foreign patients and brings in approximately USD80 million in revenue to Malaysia.
It’s not fun to be sick, but with places like Putra Medical Center at least you feel like you are getting good care.
Click here for more photos of Putra Medical Center
Click here for photos of Alor Star, the capital of Kedah, Malaysia
It looked light to me when I stuck my head out the hatch on Saturday morning but outside of Rebak Marina we found a bucket of wind. The #2 jib was left in the bag on deck and we pulled the #4 out the hatch for the hoist. Even under this reduced sail the boat heeled right over and we started sailing fast on a close reach to the North, first Sherry then Judy steering, on our way to Telaga Harbor.
Soon the wind was up further and I saw that the #2, on the leeward side of the foredeck, was getting wet. I went forward to throw it below and got a face full of salt water for my trouble. Not wanting to get any wetter I dragged the sail up to weather and refolded it in the bag enough to toss it down the hatch. Boy were we steaming along by this point! It was real sailing for a change and it felt good.
Shortly after that a wave came on board along the leeward deck and washed the Avon a foot or so along the side where the next wave caught it and threatened to carry it away. In fact it was half way over the side and we’d have lost it for sure but for the rope by which it was tied to the jib track and by Judy’s fast action on the helm. She bore off immediately, or did as soon as I responded to her order to dump the main, and then I had a level deck to work on. Down the hatch too went the Avon.
Then the printer and some other gear fell off the computer shelf and caused quite a clatter from below and we had to go collect all of that off the cabin sole, now showing a big new dent, but once we were settled down and squared away we had a good sail the rest of the way to Telaga and arrived at the landing float at noon.
I have to say that Sherry handled the sailing well, steering for a while and she took her turn on the winches and halyards but when I tried to send her forward to hand the jib she drew the line and wouldn’t budge however she even did that on the return trip. Judy was magnificent! She hopped around the boat like the sailor she is and, with her knee pads on, turned to at every task with gusto and I love her for it. We both knew her back would pay the price the next day but it didn’t stop her.
After docking at Telaga our plan was to visit the Geo-Pak and ride the cable car to the top of the mountain behind Telaga and we were soon off on that excursion. The morning breeze had blown in some haze but we still enjoyed the view and cool air at the top of the mountain and hiked around until our legs wore out.
Coming home from Telaga the wind was lighter and we set the A-3 kite, had a nice reach, hit 8 knots when the wind piped up a bit and we were back in our slip at Rebak before dark.
So, all in all, it was a very good day.
Fred & Judy, SV Wings, Langkawi Thailand
Click here to see some more photos of the sailing and the cable car ride.
I am a sailor, born of a nautical tradition passed to me by my father and my Grandfather Alfred. I’ve spent most of life on my passion which is the sea and the vessels which go upon them. I have had many such vessels and now I live on and sail on the sloop WINGS.
which I acquired in 1986 with my wife Judy
who shared my passion. For ten years we lived on Wings in Seattle and sailed, including racing. Then we left the Pacific Northwest and voyaged across the world, across the seven seas, to faraway places, and made them our own.
For thirty-eight years I have lived and loved this life. I still live on Wings, in Mexico, and sail and race often. Judy passed away in June, 2023 and I miss her but you can still join us and sail the seas as we did for all those glorious years. Fred Roswold, SV Wings, Mexico
Judy 
Judy
Flowers and Still Water
Judy
Hurrican Blanca
Henry
Judy Checks out the art
Sailing the coast of Tobago
Filling the Tanks
Wings in Scotland Bay, Trinidad
Judy relaxes
Bottom Cleaning
Pierre
Wings
Reaching for Rebak
Going Exploring
Crab INSIDE!
Judy's Medical Team
Putra Medical Center
Kite reaching on the way home.jpg)
