Boat delivery. Every springtime a little known migration pattern repeats itself, witnessed only by those who patrol the Mediterranean Seas. Captains and crews, Marina workers of places like Palau, Lipari and Pilos who may notice that certain sailing vessels have a company logo on the sail cover. This logo is like a forgotten price-tag left on a designer dress, it takes away from the fine lines of the ship. It confesses the intentions of the owner that the planned use of the boat is for money making. She will be chartered out to not-particulary-rich people who may not even opt to use the sail that the logo bearing cover protects. She will anchor in safe bays after traveling in flotilla for perhaps a couple of hours at a time. She will entertain the group of pensioners from Brighton, the family from Bray, the office colleagues from Berne. She will be the location of the conception of a beautiful baby for some lucky couple, and with more luck, she will sail the open seas again at the behest of the owners, the company, who for whatever reason may want her relocated to another base. Her maiden voyage may be her longest, as she is built in France and, in our case, is set to head east to Turkey. Our boat has no name, simply numbered 812. For this maiden journey she’s home to three Irishmen. With his own lifetime’s experience at sea, the Captain has a crew with little to none. This is the Ballad of Adam & Eve.
These songs were written aboard the boat where the instinctive fear of the deep comes to the fore. No sight of land for days, not a soul out there but ourselves. Land ahoy, we hope.