Floating On, II

Leeper Reef Lager
04/22/2009
I hate marinas. They are all the same. Every damn one. This is every marina: There will be six beautiful half million dollar motor yachts, these invariably are tied up with four dollars worth of cheap, undersized line, tied off in some spastic manner that resembles a large polypropylene rodent humping a cleat. Three of these will have a yacht brokers "For Sale" sign hanging in a window. The other three will have weasely looking characters, wearing pink or light blue polo shirts, drinking cheap liquor out of expensive glasses. These I assume are the yacht brokers .

Next, as you walk down the dock you will come to a large ferro cement sailboat sitting low in the water with a noticeable list to port. There will be an old stationary exercise bike on the bow, an old air-conditioning unit jammed in the hatch with a blue tarp over it. The captain of this good ship will have a short greasy ponytail, one gold earring, and a purple polyester shirt left unbuttoned to flap in the wind like his halyards against the mast. Jimmy buffet wafts from the cabin along with the smell of his tv dinner. The home port written on the stern is usually about 30 miles down the coast from the marina. If your lucky enough to meet one of these masters of the sea, then you are in luck as they seem to know everything. And if you have no questions, fear not as they will usually be quite happy to recount their tales of 50 ft waves (90 ft if it's happy hour) and "the storm of all storms."

Ok, I better stop. Spit is welling up in the corners of my mouth and I'm hitting the keys on the key board like Little Richard. Needless to say I hate marinas, and that's where I've been the last five days waiting for a part that should have been here 3 days ago. I am trying to make the most of the delay and make sure I'm well stocked with food and supplies. So the last few mornings, I have been taking the bus into town to the market. Monday morning at the shopping center, I killed some time reading the news paper as I believed the bus didn't leave for the marina unit 1:00. Well I'm not a proud man and can admit that I missed two busses due to the fact that I was looking at the weekend schedule. And alas, Monday is no weekend.

A quarter past four, found me struggling with all I had to carry down the isle of the bus nocking off old mans hats and stepping on children's feet. I got off the bus, heard the door close behind me and took a deep breath. I opened the gate down to the dock and walked down the pier. I walked past little pleasure boats with names like "Naughty Gal" and "Frayed Knot" and passed sail boats with four inches of barnacles on their hull sitting for another year like birds in a cage. I nodded as I passed captain lunatic pedaling to no where on the bow, wearing yellow budgie smugglers and a thousand mile stare. He didn't nod back but kept his eyes glued to the horizon as though a distant island might appear at any moment. And I noticed as I passed him that I had no groceries, no supplies. I had spent six hours in town and ended up with...... a large box full of beer brewing supplies. 'Yes indeed', I thought to myself as I unpacked the large fermenter, 'this day has run a strange course'.

Well this might not be one of my more brilliant endeavors. I'm not sure how well the fermenter will handle the "motion of da ocean" Guess I'll find out. I'll keep you posted.

specifications


Comments [2]


04/23/2009 | Uncle Sonny (trudilyn att juno dott com)
Andy, so happy to be able to read of your adventures, Be safe, love you, Uncle Sonny and Aunt Gertrude
04/27/2009 | Todd Nothstine (toddnothstine att lycos dott com)
Great little piece of commentary, Andy!
OZ
04/18/2009, Australia
While in Fiji last year, I saw a boat. I talked with the owner who was considering selling her once he got to Australia. The seed was planted. I went back to work. Mud, brine, stink, boredom. Day after day. While Im working it's pretty tough to keep in contact with people outside of the lake. So my Parents and Grandparents worked as the go between helping me with the negotiations. The word "helped" actually doesn't do them justice. There are some things in life I find I can't even come close to getting my mind around. How I ended up with such an incredible family is one of those things. My Mom and my Grandpa put endless energy and heart into helping me negotiate a deal, along with figuring out the many technicalities of purchasing a boat in another country. Some how everything worked out. It's still hard to believe.

Isis, oh Isis. I sold my good friend. More then a friend. And it still weighs very heavy on my heart. But her new owner is a incredible sailor who will undoubtably put many more thousands of miles under her keel. I couldn't have hoped for a better person for her to go to.

I've been in Australia since February. The time passed quickly as I have been very busy working on Santiam, and working to understand her details.

I had originally planned to sail south to Tasmania and then to NZ. My plans have changed and I am now heading North and West for Darwin. If there are no set backs or unforeseen delays, then I will leave from Darwin for Indonesia, and then North to Singapore. Where I'll leave Santiam and head back to work. Thats the plan.