Not a lot to report. Still sitting on our mooring and still going nowhere fast.
Engine: lots of things could be wrong with it, no way (for me at least) to tell what it is exactly. If indeed water has gotten into the engine through the sump, there should be evidence of water in the oil. If that was the case I was advised to carry out a complete oil change and give it a go.
Trip up to Ipswich, stop by the chandlery - bloody hell! Oil's not cheap (even after discount). Dinghy trip to the boat. Outboard engine behaved suspect (splutter - cough), but got us there (only just).
As I had skipped breakfast I was famished. Lunch, and be smart about it. My other half did not disappoint - delicious sandwiches in no time. Eat on deck, and watch the world sail by. Bastards! Jealousy rearing its ugly head.
I checked the oil dipstick. Nice, clean and black. Not a trace of water. What good would an oil-change do? Not much as far as I could workout - mindful of just how expensive that oil had turned out to be. The more I think about it and fiddle with it, the less I'm convinced it's water in the cylinders. My best guess is an electrical fault. Or maybe not.
So, we left Guapa as we found her. I had just tightened the stern gland nuts a bit - 10ltr of water, not exactly the swimming pool we found in Ramsgate, but still ....
Over to the experts. I had asked around if anyone knew of a good diesel engineer in the neighbourhood. Two names were suggested; one was very busy and about to go on holiday, the other one's available and has promised to have a look at our engine this week. Fingers, and everything else, crossed.
Trip back to shore proved a 'challenge'. Two minutes out the outboard died on us. Paddled back to the boat. I'm getting used to stuff breaking down, so I carry spares for just about anything. Including a spare outboard. One off, second one on. Hadn't been used in nine months but fired up second go. No problem.
On the way home I reflected on how far we had come as a family/crew: not so long ago the dinghy breaking down in mid river would have been cause for some minor panic; now it didn't even warrant a raised voice. All done and dusted in less than half an hour.
A few weeks ago I confided to Brigitte about the way I felt after the eventful and disaster-prone trip from Antwerp to Ostend and she had little time for me: 'This family does not do breakdowns'. That was me told. Just what I needed, a good mental kick up the backside.
There we are then, hopefully some good news by the end of the week.
Plans for the rest of the season? Even if the engine comes alive again, I'm never really going to trust it again. An extended summer cruise would give us ample opportunity to break down in far away and expensive places. Not something I'm looking forward to. Holidays are supposed to be free from worry, not give you something different to worry about.
I think we'll stick to some pottering about locally (the kids and I mostly) for a week or two and then have 10 days or so visiting the outlaws in deepest France.
There's always next year. And the next, and the next...
| 2009 |
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Short and to the point: the world's poorest Oyster owner (Mr Roger Winter of Jolie Brise) came alongside Guapa at 10H00. We played around with bits of string and were soon under way with the minimum amount of fuss.
Apart from some inconsiderate nerks not slowing down when they passed us (it was blindingly obvious we were under tow) there's not much to report. Parked on our mooring in no time. A great sense of relief was felt by all.
Meanwhile Brigitte had once again taken the car round and was duly collected by Yanni in the dinghy. Time for lunch - of the liquid variety - with some crisps thrown in.
Fog lifted and glorious sunshine was our part. I was almost enjoying myself. Hanging around on a boat, drinking beer, talking bollocks - my idea of heaven.
What about the engine? That's still to be investigated. What's wrong? The possibilities are legion: ranging from water in the diesel over water in the cylinder heads to a stuck exhaust valve. Some more serious and expensive than the other.
If the engine is fixable for a relatively modest sum we might still be able to salvage the rest of the season. If it's curtains for the engine or if the repairs should prove too costly I will stick Guapa on the hard somewhere till our economic/financial situation improves.
Quietly I'm still hoping for the best, but mentally I've already written off 2009. Such is life.
| 2009 |
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The home stretch was to be a father & son affair. Eldest offspring seems to have developed a social life outside of sailing. Weird kid - what ever next? Mum to drop us off in Ramsgate and collect us in Levington. So far, the plan.
Tidal calculations done, ready to sail by 13H30. ETA Levington: not later than 21H00. There are worse ways to spend a Saturday.
Final preparations - and then horror of horrors: once again the engine afloat in about 70cm of water. Our stern gland always used to weep a bit, now it seems it has started to cry me a river.
Anyway, engine well pumped out and the engine fired up - for about 2 minutes. Adrift in the middle of Ramsgate outer marina pontoons... with the help of some onlookers (it is a blood sport, isn't it?) we were soon back alongside.
Some fiddling with the damn thing and half an hour later we left our berth again. This time the engine stayed with us till just outside the outer breakwaters. Then some chugging sounds, then nothing. The thing had now seized up completely.
Genoa unfurled with some haste. At least we were making way. I handed the helm to Yanni and the little man steered us just fine off the wind. Close enough for me to hoist the main. Speed over the ground - a respectable but unimpressive 5kts. A steady 10kts of wind from the SE. We were going to get there, we just weren't going to get there very fast.
Autopilot on and sit and sail and chat and sleep. The 'world' (North Foreland) dropped out of sight and we were on our own.
When the tide turned it took about a knot and a half off our speed. Revised ETA now well past 01H00. Out of mobile phone range there was no way to inform our taxi. She was in for a long wait.
Just after 22H00 the VHF came alive: Thames Coastguard enquiring about our whereabouts. We had been reported overdue. I assured them we were OK and they promised to relay the message, including our revised ETA.
Then, just when you think things can't get any worse, they do. The wind dropped completely. Less than a knot of relative wind and all over the place. And about 2kts of tide had started to carry us across the Sunk TSS straight on to Long Sands Head. Spent the next half hour praying for wind. When none materialised I got Thames Coastguard on the VHF and advised them of our predicament.
They dispatched the Haven pilotvessel Happy in our direction. Tow secured and we were once again making progress in the right direction at a steady 7kts. Meanwhile... a real pea soup had materialised out of thin air. Harwich completely dropped from view, we could barely make out Happy towing us.
The Coastguard had arranged for the Harwich RNLI lifeboat to take over the tow from our pilotboat (rapidly becoming our new best friend). Off Rough Towers they spent the best part of half an hour looking for each other - the fog was that dense (and AIS on the blink).
Dropped Happy's tow, picked up the lifeboat tow. And the RNLI chaps seemed to be in a hurry. A steady 10kts over the ground. Yanni had gotten quite exited. Since we were taken in tow his relief was obvious.
Plans to put us on our swinging mooring in Levington were soon abandoned - the visibility was just too bad. Nil. We were to spend the night alongside the Harwich Lifeboat pier.
Meanwhile Brigitte had made her way from Levington to Harwich by car. Four miles as the crow flies, forty miles by car. And still she rustled up a hot meal. All ready for bed by 03H00. What a day.
First thing tomorrow: organise a tow to Levington (engine not willing to budge one inch).
I seem to remember owning a boat to be much more fun than this - but that now seems an eternity ago.
Onwards and upwards.
| 2009 |
|
Sunday, bloody Sunday.
Wind F4-5 from the NW - exactly the direction we're heading. The trip's 80NM as the crow flies and normally takes us 12 to 14 hours. I wasn't about to add (lots of) hours to that by tacking our way home. Brigitte an I were expected at work and both the children had school.
Ramsgate - close to the wind but sail-able.
And that's exactly what we did - for the first couple of hours. Then the wind backed W and eventually died. Motor sailed for a bit and ended up just motoring.
An altogether very uneventful crossing. Even the engine behaved.
North Foreland and eventually Ramsgate came into view. The old 'follow the ferry trick' still worked. From just inside the outer breakwater I spotted the perfect berth. I pointed it out to the kids... approach... jump with the lines... parked... sorted. We've still got it. No flies on this crew.
We were even in time to see Brigitte arrive on the ferry. Trip to the marina office - £160 for the week! If there's a recession on, Ramsgate Marina hasn't heard about it. The fact that the place was half empty should have been a clue.
We secured everything and left the old girl behind. Trip home by car. Another week and we're home - back where we belong. I'm looking forward to regular/weekly sails again and a long summer holiday.
| 2009 |
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... break down where no-one has broken down before. Well, we have broken down here before, but never in such a big way.
Engine given a minor service. Not much left to be done for her. I was advised to use her very sparingly - for leaving and entering the harbour, but not much else.
Other things came to light too - the domestic water tank leaks (port side). Over 300ltrs of fresh water in the bilges. Bilge pump inoperative. Sump pump still works - or more precisely struggles. Both were replaced. It's only money.
Family duly collected. Lifted my spirits more than just a bit. Guapa is now truly liveable down below. How do they do that?
Forecast for tomorrow crap: F5 on the nose. Sunday looking slightly better. Wind forecast to decrease, but if the direction remained the same (NW) I plan to divert to Ramsgate. At least then we've gotten the boat on the proper side of the Channel.
Wait and see.
| 2009 |
|
I left Guapa last night feeling confident that everything would be done when I arrived today at 16H00. I had even left a little list of 8 items to be completed. Was everything done? Of course not - can't say I was even surprised. Angry? Yes. But surprised? No.
Of my list of 8 points 2 had been done, but it seems they frittered away 4 precious hours on minor cosmetic details, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this was the final day, that we were sailing - no matter what. Good craftsman, but couldn't manage a piss-up in a brewery.
Now what? We sail at 23H00 - you've got till then.
With Alain as crew we left our berth at 22H30 to bunker. Still some jobs left undone, but I was past caring. The boat could sail and I just wanted to get out of the place.
The moment we left the dock I felt like a weight had been lifted of my shoulders. She was mine again. Motoring down the Scheldt river with the tide. Quiet and almost relaxing.
The peace and quiet wasn't going to last long. Just short of Zandvliet the engine spluttered and then died. There was some wind from the right so I quickly hoisted the sails. Speed had taken a knock, but at least we were still moving.
Then the wind - of course - veered. Bang on the nose. Tacking downriver across one of the busiest fairways in the world. Centrale Zandvliet on our case: 'What do you think you are doing?' - or words to that effect. I explained our predicament and they were most understanding and promised to 'keep an eye on us'.
And so it continued - not everyone was so understanding (Centrale Hansweert and Flushing in particular). One even sent the police after us. Had to promise to keep out of the fairway 'as much as possible'. We tried.
The tide had turned against us, so I started fiddling with the engine. Cleared the cooling circuit and changed the impeller. Job done. All OK for about 15 minutes... then the stern gland started smoking. Another check - added extra grease. Next: splashing sound from down below. Engine more or less afloat. Stern gland had been crying it's eyes out. Pumped out and stern gland nuts tightened.
We skipped the scheduled stop in Breskens, it would have been a shame to waste the favourable tide. We finally secured in Ostend at 18H00. Ninety-six miles in nineteen hours. Not bad under the circumstances.
I need sleep - lots of it. Our mechanic will have his work cut out for him in the morning. It never rains but it pours.
At least the family would be over for the final stretch home.
| 2009 |
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It did not rain today - though we had a couple of close shaves in the morning. Looking good. All done, bar the shouting.
Yesterdays forecast saddled me with another sleepless night. Rain today would have scuppered all my plans this close to the finish (and with no room to manoeuvre). Three hours of sleep (tops) two days before a night sail - far from ideal.
I planned to stay on board tonight to sort the last bits and work through the morning before I picked up delivery crew in Ostend. A plan I abandoned with some reluctance but for all the right reasons.
- We're as good as done - my being there would not get Guapa completed earlier. It's out of my hands now.
- I need sleep (lots of).
Only thing left for me to do tomorrow afternoon: get ready for sea and make Guapa liveable down below.
Under way in less than 24hrs from now... first sail of 2009 (long overdue) is finally upon us and I don't feel anything. It's like it's all happening to someone else. A sailing out-of-body experience.
And I miss the family lots - had really wanted them to be here to share the moment. Not long now.
Nigh-night.
| 2009 |
|
Made a mistake. Got the tidal calculations wrong. Mixed up HW Antwerp and LW Flushing. Easy thing to do. Well, it was for me. Luckily I spotted it in time.
Departure now rescheduled - Wednesday 23H00. Lock booked - they require 48hrs notice for a night opening. This will have is fighting the tide for an hour, but as it's neaps we should be all right. Arrival Breskens around 05H00 - tide turns 11H30 - Ostend by 17H30 Thursday. Looking forward to it.
The boat: it rained this afternoon. Bugger. Cockpit's as good as done - the 'hump' behind the wheel still needs to be sanded down in places (by hand), but apart from that, we're done.
Small bits of the aft deck still need caulking (oversight), both hatches are all but ready (they just need to be sanded down).
Ideally all of this should be done tomorrow - not a problem, but IT MUST NOT RAIN!! Forecast: rain & thunderstorms possible.
Let's hope and pray all goes well tomorrow, then Wednesday should leave nothing more but cleaning and kitting the last bits in place.
Fingers - and everything else - firmly crossed. Everything depends on the weather now.
| 2009 |
|
Rain stopped play - nearly. Tarpaulin to the rescue.
Arrived Antwerp early a.m. Saturday. The now customary disappointment followed. Little progress on the cork, but entirely new anchor well hatch - built from scratch.Rain Thursday & Friday was the explanation. Water under the bridge - sun's shining now. Let's get cracking.
By Saturday evening the entire cockpit was done - bar the sanding down. Tomorrow the hatches - forward and aft.
This morning - torrential rain. Not now! Fuck! Job to be done down below - install the new(ish) cooker. All done by lunchtime. That took longer than I expected it to. No change there then.
Then... It stopped raining. First for a bit, then for longer spells. In the mean time we'd gotten the entire boat under tarpaulin. Not exactly ideal circumstances, but do-able (only just). Leaks in uncomfortable places - crew moral at a low. Just when I was ready to write off the day, the skies cleared.
Renewed crew vigour. And a true miracle - both hatches as good as finished. Corked, glued and caulked in the blink of an eye. When did that happen? I still pinch myself from time to time - unbelievable.
What's left to be done? Sanding of the cocpit and forward and aft hatches. Fit the last of the deck fittings (granny bars, spi pole, hinges and locks of the hatches), cork about 500 cm/sq and the aft deck, and application of some silicone around the hatches and toe rails. And that's it.
Forecast for tomorrow's not brilliant, but Tuesday and Wednesday are looking (very) good. Either way, all to be done and dusted not later than Wednesday afternoon. Wednesday evening the sails go back on. Thursday morning... Guapa sails.
The 'plan' is to get to Breskens, lay over for an hour or two (wait for the tide to turn) and head for Ostend. Arrival Ostend around midnight. No doubt followed by the 'big sleep'.
Friday the engine gets it's annual service. There's a suspicion she's not firing on all four and/or air in the cooling circuit. No doubt Cedric will sort it - as he always does. And there's some other bits for him to look at too. Same old, same old...
Friday evening the rest of the family's due. I'm counting the days. There and then this whole adventure/nightmare will be well and truly behind us.
Barring any major disasters, Guapa should be sailing up the Orwell this coming Saturday.
| 2009 |
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I'm home again - without Guapa. It seems I'm forever chasing this mirage of a completed boat. The story so far...
Friday started off well enough. Picked up a replacement life-raft in Chatham en route to Dover and the ferry. Early night.
Awoke first thing Saturday morning and made the trip to Antwerp to arrive before 09H00. We had to shift to another berth - a race coming in.
First impression of the progress to date what somewhat underwhelming - again. What seems to have become my nemesis - the anchor well hatch - looked a lot worse than it did this time last week. What the hell?
Let's discuss later - move the boat first. Ten minutes later, all done. My close quarters manoeuvring skills seem to have improved.
Some tentative sunshine, and dry overall. The remainder of the deck was sanded down. The manufacturer recommended sanding down in 2 go's - have grain to start and finish off with a light grain. Settled on one go - medium grain - to save time.
The marina's non-tidal - access via lock HW -/+ 1. However, to be able to remain open longer (to allow all the racers enough time to get in - water level in the dock was allowed to drop by approximately a metre. Guapa developed a distinct (20°) list to port. Not easy to work on deck in these conditions.
Racers arrived and water rose quickly - afloat again. Large X-Yacht (heavily sponsored boat) moored the other side of the pontoon. Matching clothing, shades, peroxide blonde bimbos and very loud boinc-boinc-boinc music (or what passes for music). So, that's how the other half lives. It seems the skipper of the boat objected to our somewhat dishevelled presence... so our second shift of the day. Reversing into a Dutch-style 'box' and substantial cross-wind.
I don't exactly remember how I pulled it off, but I did. Fifteen minutes of buttock clenching later we were all secure. On with the job.
Last bits caulked and I installed the winches. Beautiful they are too - prettiest things on deck. Long day (10hrs) but a lot was achieved. A few more days of this and we would be able to sail Wednesday. Weather forecast for Sunday promised more of the same - fingers crossed.
Sunday morning started promising enough. Sunshine. perfect time to get to grips - once and for all - with the anchor well hatch. More epoxy applied. Things seemed more ore less on a level. The last rough bits would be sanded down later. The thing was left to dry and harden. Meanwhile Frank sanded down the last bit of the deck that still needed doing and I topped up the tank with fresh water (must not forget to add tablets).
Then I took a closer look at the anchor well hatch - it had warped completely. Saddle shaped. I have no idea about what went on, but it was obvious the thing was FUBAR. Reluctantly Frank agreed. Only option left - start again from scratch. Another quick trip Antwerp-Ghent-Antwerp to collect some balsa.
Upon my return the heavens opened up - torrential rain. Drenched in a matter of minutes.There went the day.
Even through rose-tinted spectacles it became obvious that we would not sail this week. No way, no how. That anchor well needs to be closed.
New style realism set in - a frank exchange of words with Frank (pun intended). Price agreed - get the job done. Don't care how you do it. As Frank's due to leave for Crete in two weeks (and needs a couple of days to prepare for that) I'm quietly hopeful I'll be able to sail some time the middle of next week.
So, what still remains to be done? Hatch covers - fore and aft, and the cockpit. The cockpit's a fairly straightforward affair; the aft hatch cover's over half done; the main job's the anchor well hatch cover. Given some half-way decent weather completion by the middle of next week is possible.
Eight months in the job, within sight of the finish line, and I'm praying for 'no rain'. That it should have come to this. Definitely a once-in-a-lifetime, never again kind of experience. The only thing that keeps me going right now are the expressions of admiration from passers-by. Maybe, it will all be worth it in the end.
| 2009 |
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What can I say? I took a step back on Sunday. At the end of my tether. My health was suffering - another stroke loomed large. All the symptoms were there (numbness in the face and right hand & arm + a pins and needles sensation that wouldn't go away). My brain's been writing cheques my body could no longer cash.
Faced with another week of commuting, aching muscles and bones and being on my own, I caved in. Went home with Brigitte and Yanni craving sleep, peace and quiet. The mind-numbing tedium of the office was, for once, something to look forward to.
I left instructions regarding work priorities, but going by recent conversations on the phone, these have been largely ignored. What will I find when I see her again? What progress will have been made? Heaven only knows.
However, one firm and irrevocable decision has been reached: I'm bringing Guapa home. As she is, finished or not. Tomorrow's my last ferry Channel crossing - next time I'll be sailing Guapa.
We're very, very nearly out of time and money. Whatever still needs doing, I'll do it myself, or I'll have some pre-fabricated panels made by Stazo (the manufacturers of the cork). One way or another, we're done. The open-ended story ends; and it must end soon! In a matter of days.
Ready for the first step on our way home - at last.
Our mooring awaits.
| 2009 |
|
Down in the dumps at the moment. Things are not going well. Despite my best efforts, work's not progressing at the pace it should or I had hoped for.
Who'll show up for work in the morning? A bit hit or miss at the moment; and there's only so much Brigitte and I can manage ourselves.
We 'lost' a day and a half to the weather last week, and going by current forecast, Monday's not looking great either. Tuesday the crew definitely won't show up for work. This means we've effectively only 4 or maybe 5 days left to get the job done. Some cork still has to be cut, other has already been cut but is still to be glued, caulked and sanded.
And we're out of time - no more extension's possible. I have to show up for work sometime. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.
Brigitte and Yanni are going home tomorrow, leaving me to face the music one more week. They've been a comfort and support while they were here. It'll be doubly hard when they're gone. Meanwhile Evita soldiers on - alone - at home. In the middle of AS exams.
I never thought it would come to this, but I've started to dislike going to the boat. Day in, day out... working all hours.
And not even doing stuff I enjoy, but painting, fixing, rewiring... All stuff I hate with a vengeance. I bought a boat to go sailing, not for it to be a DIY project.
To top it all, engine problems. Current iron main only running on 3 of the 4 cylinders. Another reconditioning (this would be the third) is out of the question. Replacement...
We might - but I'm not holding my breath - get to sail some time this year. If only to move the boat from one shipyard to another.
Owning a boat has never been less fun than right now. I swear, she's trying to kill me. Stephen King, feel free to call regarding the book/movie rights.
Guapa consumes all. I think about her all day, every day. At night, I dream about her (nightmares). It's too much.
My gran turned 100 a week or so ago. Big party today - all the family there. Some people I haven't seen in over a decade. Guess what? We had to leave after only a few hours because we still had to paint parts of the coach roof. And, of course, that didn't go well either - paint spilt on deck, bruised shins, ...
Right now I feel like curling up in a corner somewhere with a bottle of something strong. Roll on oblivion.
| 2009 |
|
Over a week since the last entry - what's up? Nothing and everything, but mostly, I've been far too knackered to bother with the blog.
Quick update: what have we achieved over the last week? Everything (bar the anchor well hatch) forward of the mast has been done. Either it's in place, has already been caulked or cut, ... the hard work's done. There's no reason, apart from the weather, the entire foredeck should not be finished in another day.
Coachroof's been cut an fitted. Being glued in place tomorrow a.m. , a day to dry and another on to allow the caulking to set. Job done - or as good as.
Down below every thing's once again ship-shape - cabinets rebuilt, headlinging's back in place and electrics have been rewired. And today was spent restocking the boat. Van hired - filled to the roof - everything offloaded and humped on board. And entirely a family effort to boot. Want decent crew? Find a good woman and breed your own.
It may still look a bit of a mess, but what she looks like now is miles removed from the junkyard she was only a week ago.
Still to be done: cockpit and the tiny poop-deck. Whilst Frank and Joeri are busy laying cork, the plan's for us to finish the paint job. All hands to the pumps.
Completion - and hence, first sail of the year - is only a matter of days, rather than weeks, away.
And it has to be. I don't think I can take much more of this. I'm completely and utterly exhausted - both mentally and physically. (Yeah, yeah; I've had my share of 'Not used to hard work' comments). But these past 2 weeks have been very draining. Rise at silly o'clock in the morning - commute to Antwerp - work 10 hour days - commute back. By the time I've had dinner there's not much left in the tank. I just pour myself into a sofa and watch some TV (or what passes for TV these days). And repeat... Muscles I didn't even know I had ache.
At least, Brigitte and youngest offspring have been over since last Friday to lend a hand. Huge difference. Though surrounded by people I've felt quite lonely at times.
Plan is to set sail not later than Wednesday. We need to; I'm rapidly running out of time (having run out of money a while ago - thank goodness for relatives). We're already missing the Ostend at Anchor festival (first time in 8 years) - and that was the project deadline - I'm now also running out of leave days.
So, Alea iacta est: next Wednesday - transit home via Berskens and Ostend - in one day, or possibly two. I can almost taste the salt water on my lips.
| 2009 |
|
Another hectic day - picked up long-time and long-suffering friend and sailing companion Alain in Ghent very early in the a.m. Made Antwerp just before the traffic jams.
And a good thing too - launch was scheduled for 10H30 - tractor turned up 09h00 sharp. We were by no means ready - let's not quibble about an hour. However, I did get the opportunity to apply anti-foul in the places we couldn't reach because of the cradle.
Long story short - 45 minutes later we were afloat, engine did start second time round, there was no wind, and I still know how to park my baby. Onlookers impressed - and said so. It's good to be the king - big grin.
Shroud fittings caused a bit of a panic early in the morning - some we did yesterday afternoon needed to be redone - sharp-ish. Non military personnel seemed daunted but came through in the end - colours flying. By 14H00 everything was in place as it should be.
Stepping of the mast was a doddle - all done in less than 30 mins (well, an hour if you include a quick trip to the local swindlery). Mast and boom fitted, proper tension applied to the shrouds, ... At times like these Alain's worth his weight in gold.
A thing of beauty - Guapa looks soo much better with the mast up. And impressive too. More than a bit proud. We didn't hank on the sails; it would have been a step too far, for no added benefit. Soon though.
Meanwhile - the home front. The news has been mixed. On the plus side: Evita's A.S. exams are going brilliantly - no surprise there (she's got my brains, but uses them a lot better).
On the minus side: Brigitte's been suffering from 'calcific tendinitis'. Major/minor treatment (keyhole surgery) yesterday, and my other half seems to be in quite some pain. Let's be honest, I even forgot about it. And right now I'm three hundred miles and the Channel away. And I feel and think I'm not where I should be. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you, my love, even if it's the last thing I do.
There we are, inching closer towards completion. Guapa's no longer just a hulk, but a yacht in need of some attention.
One more working day tomorrow, followed by a day of R&R. We could all use one. The adrenaline rush of the impending launch will start to wear off soon.
Final stretch - first sail hopefully just a few days (but certainly no more than a a week) away. If the weather holds.
Light at the end of the tunnel. The old girl's first sight of daylight in eight months - it's been too long.
| 2009 |
|
The night before... too tired/knackered too sleep.
Lots happened these past 4 days. Visible and quantifiable progress was made. Deck's about 80% done - over half's already been caulked and sanded (looking good).
What does still need doing? Forward of the anchor well - the two fair leads we were waiting on finally arrived today.
Coach roof and cockpit - though some of the cork has already been cut.
Poop deck - the cork frame has already been cut.
New anchor well hatch needs to be finished, as does the 'cellar' hatch.
Fit winches.
What's been done - nearly all deck fittings are now in place. Rush job tomorrow morning to sort the last ones.
Nearly all the head linings down below are back in place. She's almost liveable again.
There's a law in physics - gasses expand to fill all space available. This is also true for marine projects - they will consume all time and money available. We're nearly out of time, and most certainly out of money. A firm hand at the tiller was required, and these past four days progress has been remarkable.
At a cost though, labour relations have been somewhat strained. It would seem the junior member of the workforce doesn't handle stress that well. Nothing some time off won't cure, but not just yet.
We launch at 10H30 - early start to be in Antwerp not later than 08H15. We still have to get the mast ready for stepping; for and aft shrouds fittings still to go on... Other worries: will the engine start, will there be a lot of wind, ... ? And then in the afternoon: sails on. A bit I'm particularly looking forward to - apart from the winches, she'll be a complete, proper yacht again.
Not just yet, but soon - very soon. Once she's back in the water the first sail can't be too far away.
Lot's going through my mind - at the moment I live, eat, sleep and dream the boat. The rest of the world and my life's light years away. At least there are the daily phone calls home to keep me in touch with reality. Missing the family loads - at least they'll be here next week to share this roller-coaster ride with me.
Must try and get some sleep now.
| 2009 |
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