So far, crew integration is running like a Swiss watch (Interestingly, according to reliable information as far as you know, the Swiss invented electronic watches, but didn't take advantage while other makers boxed their ears. Another snippet of potentially true data is that the cheapest Timex keeps better time than a mechanical Rolex, the wearer of which is probably less interested in accuracy than in making a statement: "Hi, I have too much money. Please rob me").
Where was I? Oh yeah. Process at immigration to expand crew list was painless. Aforementioned persons now belong to Anthem and, as in Ben Hur, "live to serve this ship". The 'cat' is ready, but suspect that malevolent glaring and liberal application of grog will suffice to keep them in line.
RAV4 rental car ran like a sewing machine (Should you need to know someday, Singer no longer makes them, having moved into furniture or something). (As an aside to the aside, none of the periodic facts presented in this blog are, strictly speaking, perfidy as all were believed to be true at the time).
As may be divined from tonight's idiocy, I have the memory and attention span of a three-year-old, am easily distracted and... oh, what a pretty butterfly.
It's too late to actually detail contents of day, which would, in any case, cause severe ennui, so good night.
The Neat Part
Due to time and attention constraints, anticipate quality of this crap to deteriorate after crew arrives. How could this possibly be one might ask? Worse than this? Ha! The surface of literary travesty has scarcely been scratched. Presumably, however, the quantity spewing forth may also lessen... or, given the perverse nature of the twisted mind behind this twaddle, may not. You have been warned.
Against better judgment and slovenly innate character, spent morning cleaning and continuing to rearrange interior of boat. Made a dent in grime, but, given negligible organizational capabilities, may rely on crew for more workable solution to disposition of respective effects. They have been warned.
With newly acquired, willing and gullible cohorts, hope to terrorize and ravage selected sections of Curacao this week while awaiting spar. The Dutch are on their own and so, have not been warned.
Floating Bridge Amove
Last day of wimpy hurricane season. Disappointment at lack of excitement is subdued.
Renting, at lowest possible cost, what promises to be a junker from 1400 tomorrow until same time Wednesday to collect crew on 2050 flight from MIA, then for transportation to immigration next morning, is fewer guilders than one-way shuttle from airport and half that of taxi. Although unable to enjoy sport of having them find their way cross-island at night to within hailing distance of dinghy dock at Fisheries Harbor, avoiding mutinous rabble on boat for succeeding month precludes that option.
Was struck by fact that while floating bridge spanning entrance to Curacao Harbor motors itself aside to allow boats to enter, pedestrians, unaccountably assumed, unlike in US, to have the odd brain cell, continue to walk across without falling off open end. Curacao has apparently escaped infestation of ambulance chasing barristers (no offense intended toward England where that term may still carry some honorable connotation).
While possible to drill and tap all of boom bits to each other and to mast, had decided to have expert, Tys (name unpronounceable in English) at Curacao Marina, rivet (reportedly included with 'kit') biggest chunks to avoid internal rough edges where reefing and outhaul lines traverse. As happens, Inspiration Lady possesses big honking tool, now borrowed, for job allowing circumvention of this additional complication. Confidence, flying in face of sensible probability, remains high.
As expected, rebedding dockline chock today was a pig tussle and twice as messy. 5200 is, contrary to what 3M would tell you, a live organism that will, besides making everything stuck together with it impossible to separate, jump onto anything within several feet of use. This was a good news, bad news operation. Downside, the difficulty. Upside, as the entire passage through gunwale is fiberglassed, the only possibilities for leakage, theoretically, are four screw holes. No need to do it again with other five. This begs question, therefore, of leak, if not thusly caused. Oh shucks, or more expressive words to that effect.
Cleaned galley, but left head and shower for later. Dust hippos can wait as well. Otherwise watched The Maltese Falcon and relaxed with book authored by Clive Cussler who didn't write it. It's a scam, but a tolerable, mindless read by Craig Dirgo. Good literature tends to require a mental acuity that has currently gone missing.
Finally got enough rain, not to wash off previous dirt piles, but to remove salt from yesterday's cleaning. That worked out pretty well. Incentive to wash boat again, should observation of dirt ever again exceed customarily elevated tolerance, has increased minutely.
Other than preparation for fetching crew on Tuesday evening and attaching boom when it arrives, then meeting returned Inspiration Ladys in Willemstad for lunch, tomorrow should be fairly mellow. Be advised, previous assertion was an exercise in hope over experience as something will certainly intrude upon rosy scenario.
"A person is never happy except at the price of some ignorance." - Anatole France
View from Club Asiento in Spanish Water
Rode free supermarket bus this morning to Budget Marine, a hardware store and, strangely enough, a supermarket. Bought odds and ends at first two including threaded stainless rod for experiment with mast. Had such good luck weakening boom with drilled, and subsequently corroded, holes, thought it a good idea for the really big spar. Concept is to run rod through front of mast to capture wires that now slap against sides when boat rocks. What could go wrong?
Experienced another rain shower Thursday night that converted little piles of red Bonaire dirt (ref. Nov. 25) into bigger, even more unsightly piles. Although normally oblivious to filth, roused slothful carcass to wash deck with Orpine in salt water. Results were sufficiently pleasing to precipitate another such effort - perhaps, some day - should the need arise.
Boat work (a four letter word) could occur tomorrow. May attempt to fix leaks that are suspected to emanate from midship dockline chocks. Because they are embedded through raised gunwales with 3M 5200 (polyurethane sealer), expect to employ hammer and crowbar as dynamite is difficult to procure. Also, should resort to house cleaning, anticipating arrival of crew on Tuesday, but hey!, what are crew for? "The floggings will continue until moral improves." Arghhhh!
PS Title phrase may not mean what you think.
Willemstad from Commercial Dock
Ship purported carrying boom scheduled arrival Wednesday. Stop. Due customs and
handling, slim possibility of sweaty mitts on it Friday. Stop. Perhaps Monday.
Stop. Dididit. Didididit. Didit. Dah. Stop.
After a day of riding buses, first to Best Buy Super Market for the odd grocery,
then to Caribbean Cargo for customs paperwork and glad tidings of delayed joy
(from which walk back seemed much longer than as observed through bus window
going), hopped on again to Willemstad for, among other things, an early dinner of
exquisite Caribbean cuisine. Nearly chose KFC in honor of Inspiration Lady crew
(returning to paradise this evening from frigid windswept wasteland), but sudden
urge to avoid coronary bypass drew me to nearby Subway instead.
"Very little is known of the Canadian country since it is rarely visited by
anyone but the Queen and illiterate sport fishermen."
- P. J. O'Rourke
Lesson for the day: Big buses have set routes. Little buses, while posting
destinations, do not. Passengers must provide enlightenment upon boarding.
Enjoyed lovely excursion through hitherto unknown parts of Curacao, helping
everyone else disembark and banter with amiable driver prior to returning home
thirty minutes late.