It’s official …

… we hate computers! More of that infuriating subject later. But first to honour yesterday’s promise of a shot of Butterfly at Durban Marina – so here she is.

After my chortling yesterday about gorgeous SA weather, the clouds had the last laugh and gathered in force today, so we trundled off to take a few shots of the boat and then head for the hills.

Down by the water, even though it was Saturday afternoon, we found both Steven and Ken and two of the other guys still hard at work. Little by little the clutter of tools and spare parts are disappearing, and more of those finishing touches are taking their place. Steven, determined as ever to get everything just right, was redoing some wiring work in the mast; Ken overseeing yet more wiring within the saloon (there’s just sooo much of it on this boat!), and making a fabulously neat job of things. Their commitment to this project is total – and very reassuring (though we suspect their families might like to see a little more of them); we, however, have no complaints, only gratitude.

As for those loathesome laptops, mentioned earlier: the internet service here is a little patchy, but last night and for most of today – in fact, up to writing this blog entry tonight – it has been un-bloody-speakable. For me, that is. Dick’s compootering has had better luck. Anyway, Lena and Jack very kindly called out an IT guy, Lionel, who did all sorts of wonderful wizardry on both machines which was clever and no doubt very beneficial, but after he’d gone, I was still left with a comatose internet connection. Half an hour to load one web page is no laughing matter. So laughing was off, and cursing the air blue was on. However, you’ll be pleased to know all is now restored. The problem? Yours truly deleting some silly-sounding programme off her laptop which she thought was infected with a virus … it wasn’t. And the silly-sounding prog turned out to be an essential piece of kit for the speedy efficient downloading of images and goodness knows what else. So guess who’s got egg all over her face …. ?!

Computers, eh? Can’t live with ‘em; can’t live without ‘em. Pah!

(update: spoke too soon – 5 minutes after typing this, darn laptop back on the go-slow … pah and double pah!)

Bye-bye Blighty …

… hello again South Africa. Apologies for the radio silence but our return to England, although brief, was a busy one. No time for computer duties, just a whirlwind dash to see some very special people (you know who you are m’wonderful dears) – and some galloping garden maintenance. Also, a few last minute financial arrangements, and a little shopping for a few select items we can’t seem to track down here in SA. (God bless John Lewis plc). But it was Dick who played the hero (again) getting busy from dawn to dusk for a couple of days with an unwieldy industrial-sized hedge-trimmer. Leaving your erstwhile nest during the last throws of Spring is not a wise idea: Mother Nature doesn’t give a fig that you won’t be there to tidy up after her annual burst of lush exuberance and charges blithely on, popping buds and shooting stems, leaves and boughs with gleeful wantonness. And long may she continue with her Spring frenzy – but living on a boat, well, we don’t want to appear ungrateful, but soon it’ll be nice to be enraptured spectators only, rather than active stewards of all that verdant joie de vie. It’s no wonder our old garden needed a savage haircut – it had been delightfully hot and sunny for a spell (we’ told), to be followed by some dramatic PPPs (pissy persistent precipitations) that fell from glowering clouds during our stay. And oh, what soggy PPPs they were! We swear the repeated deluges that bucketed down for much of this week just gone, were of the very wettest variety there are. Yet saying goodbyes to beloved sons in dreary torrential rain is somehow right. A befitting backdrop to the emotional wrench of parting. That beloved sons were probably secretly relieved to have their mater and pater go, and be free of the reminders of things to do now, things to be done later, and things not to do – now, later, or ever at all – didn’t matter. And that both boys – at 21and 22 years old, should that be men? – are quite able to fend for themselves and more than happy to do so, doesn’t matter either. To a devoted mother, saying goodbye to her darling children (however grown and whiskery they have become ) should be a matter of misty-eyed misery to be enjoyed to the full … and accompanied by all the rain the heavens can hurtle! So, we arrived at Terminal 5 Heathrow with the wet stuff still pouring from the English skies, and after a hassle-free flight arrived in Durban to find it basking in glorious rich sunshine. Hallooo! Hooray! The sort of sunshine that warms you to the bone and gently jollies your mood until you can’t help but just grin. An African autumn bestows some of the kindest climatic conditions there are. The sun has lost its summer ferocity – becoming a benign butter ball that smiles on all, easing travel-weary limbs and immediately instilling a profound sense of well-being. By contrast, our fleeting return to Blighty was a sharp reminder of how fragmented and sporadic an English summer is. In short: it was good to be back here. Gideon’s little bombettes he kindly gave us to help us sleep on the overnight flight worked like a charm, and although a little grubby and creased, we couldn’t wait to load up the hire car and head straight from the airport to Durban Marina, to see a certain little lady. Butterfly! What a pretty sight she is! We fair ran up the pontoon to greet her – and seeing her gleaming away in the gentle sunshine, water reflections dancing on her hulls, she almost sparkled. Ken has found a cleaning product – the name? – darn it, have forgotten, but will report back later with details – that has banished all the stains, grotty splodges, dirty footprints, oil splashes etc that had accumulated while she was stuck aloft on the trailer at the port, and she’s looking foxy fresh once more. Even the anti-slip has smartened up beautifully. As for progress, well, at last she sports an elegantly sway-back mast and rigging. This was fitted a week ago, while we were away. We so wanted to witness that addition – and to see her lifted and lowered into the water, it was a great pity we were so far away. A baptism that Ken and Steven have captured on video, thankfully, so we can at least view the momentous event on celluloid – well, ok – digitally, then. Apparently, the new prop had been easy to fit and the journey from the port to her current berth in the marina, a smooth one. Darn it – sooo wish we could have been there! Speaking to Steven a little later yesterday, he was still excited by how well it had all gone – great news to return to, that’s for sure. Tomorrow, we’ll pop down to the marina again and I’ll take my camera this time. (It was all packed up yesterday in with our luggage, so no pics today of Butterfly afloat). Though she’s not quite so easy to photograph full length now she’s in the marina, but I’m sure we can still get some decent shots of her – clean, masted and in her natural environment – the sea! Anyway, have chortled quite enough, but thank you all for your patience. From today consider this blog resume-ed and it will stay resumed – just so long as Lena and Jack’s occasionally limping Internet connection allows!

More everything to follow …

You can’t make an omelette …

… without smashing eggs. Calling in at the boat this morning to see how she’s coming along, decided to take a selection of shots to show you how things progress inside. Outside she’s a smart girl; inside, a little less so at the moment. There’s a huge amount of electrical work involved, but Ken and his team are soldiering on making a very neat job of it (despite the cramped chaos of their surroundings). What you can’t see here are some of the other guys working quietly away in the hulls, and another, bless him, squashed up in the very back of the boat behind the engine compartment – where it’s hot, stuffy and airless- diligently sanding away: a noisy, dusty and uncomfortable experience which he bears with cheerful good grace; by contrast, the guys who seem to spend most of their time outside definitely have the cushier conditions, especially Paul, who always seems to be fishing when we arrive!

Not wanting to hang around too long and just get in the way, we headed off for CrocWorld. What a strange experience! It’s absolutely crawling in crocs alright (and birds of exotic hue – and a pair of the most charming and endearing Meerkats who seemed desperate for us to adopt them) but we virtually had the place to ourselves. Something almost eerie about it. Apart from the occasional shrieks of squabbling birds, and a very heated flamingo altercation, all you could hear was the wind rustling the grasses, fanning the heat. The stars of the show weren’t much taken with their audience. Sly-eyed and snaggle-toothed, crocs of every size lay like elderly, leathery sun-baskers – snoozing in the African sunshine, studiedly indifferent to my camera being shoved as close to their snouts as I could get it … on the safe side of a protective wire fence, of course.

We left them to their somnulant sunworship and headed off for Scottburgh beaches. With the passing of the afternoon a vigorous breeze had arisen, and down near the waves a welcome overdose of ozone sent us clambering over the rocks with gusto. What is it about a lively sea-breeze and late afternoon sun that’s just so – well, ooomphy! Like being a kid again. Voices whipped away, hats lifting, tripping along over the sand – picking up shells and crab claws whitened in the salty sun – why, it’s just so much fun. Back home, we’ve always had a yen for walking by the water, by boats and marinas and by the sea – especially when there’s a good blow. Here in South Africa, we’re lucky to be spoilt with a coastline that provides blow and water a-plenty. Huzzah – what luck to find ourselves in our rightful element!

Tomorrow we must pack up ready to return to England on Wednesday for a very short spell. We’ve already brought most of our things out here – some with us this last trip; some still sitting in a container on route to Durban – but now we think we may have to take some stuff back! The boat is big, but not that big, and do I really need two extra pairs of heels? Dick, of course, will take about 30 minutes to decide what stays, what goes, and finish packing. Me? Well, I shall need at least a couple of hours – and then after a break, start unpacking that which is packed and packing that which is un. And so it goes …

Much else to do tomorrow, too (besides mess about with packing that is), so this blog, so soon started, may stall for a while. Back in England, we have a family wedding to attend (are you getting nervous, Jo?!) – and a couple of very beloved sons (BJ, Al – put that kettle on, kids!) to spend time with and catch up on all their doings. We only have these forthcoming few days with them before we return to Durban and won’t be seeing them again until much later in the year – on board Butterfly, definitely; somewhere exotic, perhaps. So if you’ve a mind to, check back here and join us once we return. Despite the newness of this blog, we’re surprised and delighted by how many of you are already keeping us company – it’s been completely unexpected – so thank you!

Bye for now, folks.

Anchors aweigh …

… and chain away too. Apologies, this is not the most exciting photo ever taken, but one that might be of interest to other FastCatters. (Click on it for larger size and better detail). Gideon and Steven have come up a much improved anchor locker. In fact the whole anchor system has been revamped and is looking good. See how easy the access is here – and how much room? Windlass maintenance should be far less difficult than in previous 435 models. Heck, it’s so spacious you could throw a party in there – well, almost. We’ve ordered 100mtres of 8mm Duplex stainless steel (from Wasi, Germany)- and we think that’s what you can see there – all 100 metres of it. We say, think, because it really doesn’t look very much, but there again, that locker is seriously roomy and the chain is seriously slim. (In the midst of so much going on, surprisingly, getting out the tapemeasure hasn’t figured highly).  What’s missing here is the Wasi Powerball swivel connector that’s yet to arrive. Now who’d have thought there would come the day when we’d burble excitedly about anchor chain, of all things? But it really is a little amazing that we can, and shall, hang a fully laden Butterfly off such a fine link. And one that can’t corrode. Ever. I mean, what’s not to like?!

(Wikipedia Factoid :”Weigh” as a verb means to “bear” or “move”, thus giving it several shades of meaning and derivation, including “weight” or heaviness. This lends itself to obvious plays on words, as with Flip Wilson’s old routine about Christopher Columbus. “Columbus cried, ‘Weigh anchor’. A few minutes later, a crewman reported, ‘Two thousand, one hundred thirty six pounds’.”) Boom-boom.

skipper schmipper …

… life’s all too often about little bits of paper. Mulling over the S.A. Skipper’s Licence biz, (necessary here if your boat is S.A. registered), we think it might be best to get a S.A. Day Skipper licence first, which allows us to sail between 5-10 nm off-shore. Without that, we’re not legally entitled to sail the boat at all! We both already have that qualification, of course, but the English RYA version – which is not valid here. Dick has his Coastal Skipper Licence too, and his ocean and yachtmaster’s theory ticket – but again, none are valid here in S.A. So, current plan is to get the SA Day Skipper paper which should be quick and easy and at least allow us out on the water; then, brush up on the S.A. Yachtmaster’s course and sit that exam with the help of a new pal of ours here, Colin, who just happens to run a local sailing school, and is a qualified instructor and examiner. His boat is moored just a stone’s throw away from our temporary Durban marina berth, so he’s soon to become a neighbour too. We found him first, by chance, on the Internet, when we were looking to hire a skipper to coach us on our first ocean crossing. Island hopping we’ve done a-plenty, but not long distances, and nothing in storm conditions. Weatherwise, we’ve always been very lucky. Colin’s advice has changed our thinking, however. Meeting up with him when we first arrived here, he’s suggested we just hire him or one of his instructors on a day basis when we want to venture further afield – especially if there is a good blow. There are some big waters and a strong current around these parts (they don’t call it the Wild Coast for nothing, after all!) and his expertise and local know-how would be a huge asset. Once he and we feel confident we’re ready to break free and head off to far-flung shores, then we’ll skipper ourselves and learn as we go along. Again, with no firm plans or deadlines, we can afford to wait until everything comes together: knowledge, weather, currents and experience.

Talking of big waters and wild coasts – and given that we spent the day exploring the coast around Oceanic (beautiful endless beaches, sparkling surf and kind, kind weather), so have no Butterfly updates today – here’s something that should make the heart beat a little faster. Enjoy!

Rules, regulations …

… and red tape. Last night, over a spot of supper with Gideon, it transpired we will need a South African Skipper’s Licence to sail the boat in S.A waters. News to us entirely: we had assumed Dick’s ICC Skipper Licence would be sufficient. Apparently not. But, you only need a S.A. Licence if the boat is registered here in South Africa – which ours currently is. Register the boat elsewhere and the ICC Licence should be good enough – BUT – (there’s always a but, isn’t there?) – there are various complications which may or may not make that choice undesirable. Confused? Not surprised: so are we. Soooo – more Googling, more local enquiries, and more sifting through the mire of local boaty bureaucracy. But nothing to lose sleep over.

Now, see them boots? Those fine athletic legs? Them’s the Skipper’s trusty transporters them is. Across hill and vale and rugged terrain. (The First Mate – behind the camera, of course – kept her own transporters under wraps, safe from the savage nips of pesky midges). All of which is a thoroughly thilly way of saying while we wait for Butterfly to come to fruition, we’ve had a fun and healthy time of it exploring more of Kloof’s lush landscape. Even the local roads of (smartly impressive and gracious) suburbia are rich in palms, bromeliads, and acacias; and it’s not unusual to find monkeys skittering among the gardens or sitting on fences watching passers-by with kindly interest. To the folk who live here, of course, such things are totally unremarkable; to us, jogging or striding energetically by during our early morning or late afternoon bid to keep in trim – well, they’re just wonderful.

And we have other reasons to be grateful. These vertiginous hills, snaking forest trails and deep gorges are doing us good. Back at home (life here is too new – so home still means England at the moment), we were both used to taking regular daily exercise. Here in SA, without a handy rowing machine and treadmill, we need some demanding terrain to maintain our levels of fitness … such as they are: I mean, we’re no slouches, but neither of us will frighten the horses with our massive musculature or robust racing style. So to the forests, hills and vales we go, whenever we can. Dick armed with water and maps; me with camera, lenses and an endless supply of Polo mints – an essential part of any survival kit, of course.

Butterfly Update: Lookaway if this doesn’t thrill – it’s really aimed at the other FastCatters-in-waiting: a quick update on what’s happening boat-wise.

• Butterfly being fitted out/repaired on dockside at Durban Port
• The new prop now expected Wednesday 21st May. Expected – but not guaranteed, of course!
• The inverter now connected; so, too, the solar panels (2 x 200watt).
• Much of the instrument panel wired in – in fact, lots of wiring completed (we’re told).
• A new saloon door being made up as today we discovered original has a long deep scratch in it.
• Gas strut fitted and working ready to receive cockpit table.
• Upholsterer coming on Monday to fit and hem Bimini fabric enclosure.

There will be other things that have been installed or fitted, but looking at the boat yesterday and today, with saloon and hulls chocka with crew, it’s hard to spot everything. With so many people working on her, and no water supply to hose her down, it’s a little troubling to see her looking so dirty at the moment. But Gideon assures us she will be spruced up and left sparkling by the time she’s completed. I’m not sure we can wait – Hand us a mop, my good man!

One thing worth emphasising – and we hope it might help future FastCatters. The FastCat really is a wow of a boat, and as you FastCatters know, each one is built specially for each customer – but be kind to yourselves and don’t make any hard and fast plans that depend on a fixed completion date. Each boat takes as long as she takes. Remember that ol’ chestnut: “good things are worth wating for”. Well, in the case of the 455, it certainly seems true. What’s also true is that Gideon will still look after you, after you’ve taken delivery. Not the case with many boat manufacturers judging by some of the tales we’ve heard. Remember – Just keep those plans loose!

The only bummer on our immediate horizon is the likelihood that we won’t be in SA to see her craned and lifted into the water – nor be there for her maiden voyage across to Durban Marina. For next Wednesday, we must leave for England for six days, to honour a long-standing appointment at a family wedding. Alternatively, this might be very good timing: watching the cack-handed antics of some crane-operators today, as they repeatedly bungled the lifting of a huge tyre (not such a difficult load, surely), one could only pray Butterfly will have a more skilled crew to introduce her to the water. After the escapade with the runaway truckdriver, I’m not entirely sure I want to watch her launch at all … !

Anyway, here she is in her current resting place.

One last thing: last night we were talking with Gideon about the Lazy Jack-cum-Flaking Dutchman sail system. The trouble with any Lazy Jack system (or, in our case, part system) is the way the sail battens often catch when raising the sail. Gideon’s latest brainwave is to use basalt battens in the construction of the sailbag itself, so when opened it will spring wide and the guiding lines will be held out and away from the rising sail. Sounds a winner – certainly in theory. We’ll probably be the first to try this out, so will report back in due course. Stay tuned!

Into each life …

… some rain must fall. Only yesterday, around 5.30 in the morning, it wasn’t a few drops but a sudden, depressing deluge. A drenching that – while not enough to completely stop play – proved more than sufficient to leave a very wounded Butterfly in need of skillful corrective surgery. What happened? An elderly truck driver afflicted by defective eyesight and cursed with the aspirations of Louis Hamilton – that’s what happened. Our hapless wrinkly racer (who we since learn has a reputation for his manic driving style – more of him later), despite being entrusted with one very large, very expensive, precious cargo, took a narrow section of road far too fast and ground her portside prop into the crash barrier. Ouch-ee! What made it even worse, we were following directly behind the truck (as were Gideon, Steven, Gary and some of the other AfricanCat staff, hazard lights all flashing, forming a convoy to prevent other drivers from attempting an overtake of the truck) and we could see the narrowing of the road, the reckless speed of the truck- but were powerless to stop the inevitable disaster. Because it was perfectly clear to us – although not the driver, apparently – that he had fatally misjudged the narrow confines of the road. And with his foot still far too hard to the floor – he took a flier at the gap – and lost. We saw (and almost felt) the boat judder as the portside prop bit hard into the wall.

The rest of the journey was a truly nerve-shredding affair, praying the damage was minimal; knowing full well it couldn’t be. Once we had all arrived at the Durban Port launch site and could view things in the breaking dawn of a grey and cloudy day, we found the catalogue of poor Butterfly’s injuries was dispiritingly impressive. These included – deep breath -

• one twisted feathering prop blade – not so much feathered as lightly mangled
• sail drive shaft buckled and bent
• sail drive casing, wrenched free from engine, subsequently smashed into clutch plate
• potential damage to fly wheel (which was noticeably scuffed)
• Spline shaft wrenched free of the fly wheel
• smashed clutch plate (thanks to spine shaft impacting on it)
• area of underside hull (around the prop’s sail drive leg) damaged, together with the sail drive’s rubber sealing
• 3 stanchions bent needing replacement (damage due to overhanging branches and the driver’s speed)

B-a-a-d news with a capital B. Made worse because now the boat must stay at the waterside in Durban Port, still mounted on the truck, while repairs are effected. (She certainly couldn’t go into the water with a gaping hole in her hull). But leaving her there means the crew having to travel to and from the factory (and inevitably forgotten parts and tools needing fetching), which will slow progress no end. She’s also vulnerable to theft – too many tempting expensive electronics already installed and no lock on her saloon doors as yet. Plus the area where she is laid up is only guarded by a guy with an ology in happy indifference who lets all come and go without question.

Now – having got all the bad news out of the way – let’s move on to the good: after truck, boat and accompanying convoy arrived at the waterside and within minutes of rushing from their cars to assess the damage, Gideon and Steven immediately began making rapid arrangements to restore Butterfly to her former glory. They were terrific. So, too, their team. Suddenly it was all a go-go: new parts ordered, stores room raided for those in stock; engine, prop, shaft drive and all damaged components removed; kevlar, epoxy and carbon repairs made to the fractured hull, security guard arranged to tend the boat: in short – everything that could be done was being done. And swiftly.

Now, thirty-six hours later, the sun is shining again and Butterfly’s repairs should all be completed by the end of today – prop excluded. The propellor, an Autostream 3 bladed feathering prop, withstood the impact amazingly well. In fact, ironically, had it not been so sturdy, there might have been far less damage to the sailshaft etc. A weaker prop would just have sheared off, so protecting the saildrive etc. (Ha! More good news then: our choice of prop is a sound one!) But a totally new one is needed and this must come from Australia. And although Gideon has asked his contact there for a swift delivery, it will naturally take some days to reach Durban. (There was talk of possibly knocking the old bent prop blade back into some sort of shape, and trying to motor her across Durban bay to the mooring at the marina – where she would be safer, and fitting the new prop there when it arrives. But a defective prop could cause further damage and so Butterfly must sit and wait it out where she is till the new one turns up. (Update: we’ve just learned the new prop is on its way: so let’s just hope its a speedy, trouble-free delivery).

More good news (and we like this part enormously!) – meeting with Gideon this lunchtime, he informs us he has given instructions that Butterfly must be finished so that we can finally move in and start our life aboard by the 1st June – two and a half weeks away. Yay! :0)

(Footnote: Back to our luckless trucker: the chap, a very pleasant man in his late seventies, has delivered many boats – we assume mostly successfully. But after the accident with Butterfly, we discover he has had more than a few scrapes in recent times and was responsible for one boat losing an entire window; another being gashed along her entire broadside. That he is good (or used to be) at manoeuvering in tight places when going slowly – as he did at the factory – is not in doubt; but watching him drive at such silly and unnecessary speed (it was five in the morning, for heaven’s sake – no traffic, no deadlines, no reason at all to belt it) – it’s clear the poor fellow is an accident not just waiting to happen, but already happening. Now nearing eighty, he doesn’t wear glasses – and we can’t help but wonder if he should! We’re told he is the only guy in town with the right experience and the right truck for shipping cats, but talking to him, he himself told us there were a couple of other fellas who do this sort of work. We wish him well, we really do – he’s a good man – but it seems to us its only prudent to try finding someone younger with clearer vision and more caution. Besides, South Africa has a thriving boat-building industry, therefore there must be more than one truckdelivery guy. But one thing is for sure: our septuagenarian Speedy Gonzalez ain’t going near Butterfly again!

(Photo Note: the green gunk in the top photo, not caused by damage, but is expanding foam – the excess yet to be removed. But it does show where the hull was prized open by the impact of the prop against that crash barrier)

Wild Thing …

… we think we love you!

It’s Sunday, the day of rest (for lucky us, that is, but not for Steven and Ken and some of the guys still beavering away at the factory, bless ‘em) so, Gideon and his brother, Philip (our newest bestest friend) very kindly whisked us off to Tala game reserve to do a little shooting – but only of the pixelated variety. And this handsome dude was just one of Tala’s many delightful models willing to pose. Gideon, Philip and Dick showed endless patience while I wielded my sturdy Canon trying to fill the frame with four-legged beasties – or two-leggy-legged in the case of some dust-bathing ostriches. Crazy-looking birds those – crazy-headed, too. And a chance and very close encounter with two female elephants was a definite highlight … (pictures to follow shortly).

Y’know, bumping along the dusty tracks in a little ol’ Nissan rental, windows down, sun ablaze in an azure sky, fanned by the breeze and wowed by the vast rolling scape of African grassland and basking animals – well, it’s a surefire recipe for A Good Day. Throw in good company and happy banter and it’s darn near a perfect one.

Late in the afternoon, we called in at the factory. Much progress this weekend including the fitting of both trampolines. I mention these because they’re made of Dyneema (billed as the ‘world’s strongest fibre’) and they’re definitely the best we’ve seen or tried. Walking or lying on them (they make great beds for hot nights) is a joy: the mesh is fine and light and mounted so there are no gaping holes round the edges for unwary feet to slip down. A very neat, small, quarter-circle clearance either side of the compression beam allows easy access to the anchor roller – a nice practical touch.

What we’re not quite so wowed by are the windows. But this is a tricky one. The material, Lexan Margard, is excellent stuff – far superior to glass and immensely practical. But due to its flexible nature, it must be fitted with a wide band of sealant on the saloon interior side of the windows. This wide band of sealant is black and is visible outside, through the green tint of the Lexan. Aesthetically, this dark border isn’t great, but it is absolutely necessary to secure the windows against walls of crashing water in very rough seas. One solution would be to have black tinted Lexan Margard, instead of green, so the sealant wouldn’t be visible – but alas, Lexan don’t manufacture such a beastie. Ah well, not to worry – it’s reassuring to know that we have the best material for the job. Safety always takes priority.

Tonight we must sleep well. Tomorrow night in the wee smalls, we follow Butterfly and her police escort to the marina for the big splash – metaphorically speaking, of course. Her introduction to the water will be a gentle one, no doubt – or heads will roll!

Time to practice a little night photography …

All hands on deck …

… and below and – well, everywhere! Butterfly’s launch date is this coming Monday (12th May) – just two short days away. Still so much to be done, and the rush to get her ready has become a little frantic. While there are certain finishing jobs that can be done once she’s moored in Durban marina (her nesting place for a few weeks to come), other work must be completed before she leaves the factory – hence the urgency. Ideally, we’d far rather she stayed at the factory until she was absolutely perfect, but Gideon and Steven (factory manager, Gideon’s right-hand man, and a veritable treasure) need to ship her out so that they can move everything else to their new factory. At the moment, Butterfly sits on her jacks right inside the old factory’s gates, tall and wide and long, blocking the main entrance and exit, so that hull no. 5 and large equipment cannot be shunted past before transportation. Moving Butterfly to the new factory to finish her is not practicable either. Too many problems and possible hazards settling her into the new place. This new factory (far larger and better designed than the old, and with its nicer location and purpose-built fitments far more pleasant to work in) will allow for faster, smoother production and a greater number of boats to be produced at any given time. Soooo – needs must and to the marina Butterfly - finished or not – must go.

Steven has assured us, however, that work at the marina will be supervised – possibly by Ken, Steven’s father (we now know why Steven is such a great guy – like father, like son!) – so it’s all cool. Without supervision, the delightful (if occasionally vexing) ‘relaxed’ African approach to work makes for very s-l-o-w progress! That said, from the get-go we’ve deliberately kept our plans as loose as possible, knowing that the boat was never likely to be finished anything like on time, whatever dates were optimistically bandied about. We’re not home and dry just yet, but we’ve certainly saved ourselves a huge degree of frustration and angst adopting the “don’t worry about time, just make sure the boat itself is good” approach.

And getting a new boat good sometimes takes several efforts. The FastCat is a new design, and ours is only the fourth Gideon and his team have built. Moreover, with each boat, in the drive for perfection, many, many changes and improvements have been made, all of which means the staff must learn new ways of doing things, using new equipment, new methods: it is not a recipe for slick, speedy production, however you look at it. But – and it is a very big BUT – our confidence in Gideon and Steven to make our boat a strong, safe vessel that is a joy to sail and to live on, grows by the day. That they are heart-and-soul committed to getting things right is absolutely beyond doubt; O would that every boat builder felt the same!

Our Boots …

… are getting some serious use. Until the electrician comes in on Monday to install the boat’s Capi electrical system, there’s little we can do at the factory except get in the way – so we’ve kept ourselves busy elsewhere. Today, that meant donning our walking boots and heading for the hills – a favourite pastime. The B&B we’re staying in (which is excellent, btw – thanks Lena and Jack) is nestled in the Gillitts 1000 Hills area. 1000 or 100, who knows? – but nothing around here is on the flat for very long, that’s for sure. Today, our hill-trekking took us to the Krantzkloof Reserve – just a hop and a skip away in the car. Waterfalls, wildlife, plush vegetation and rushing streams – and enough rocks, forests, hills and gorges to give those boots of ours a real outing. Odd and completely delightful to find, having clambered steep and high through thick forest to emerge on open plain,  two surprised zebras watching us through the long grasses. The weather was kind too – warm and dry and with that whisper of autumn crisp in the air as we rounded off a vigorous three-hour trek. Back at the ranch, I see the midges have, as ever, made a feast of me; Dick, lucky swine, is lump, bump and itch-free. I wish those wretched little biters would realise they’re on a hiding to nothing: it’s unrequited love all the way.

It’s odd, but despite the clement weather today, it just feels plain weird plunging from an English spring in full swing, to African autumn in full leaf-fall. Bodies are creatures of habit and like their seasons to run nice and orderly with no messing – and no missing. A year to be spent entirely without a summer is a strange concept.

Tomorrow, we hang up our boots – at least for a while. Dick wants to be there when the Capi system is installed, so he’ll have a better understanding of how to operate and fix it should the need arise. And it will … that’s boats for you. Me? Well, I shall be measuring up for some internal furnishings (like porthole curtains and cushions which I want to make myself) and no doubt taking some more photos of our hatching Butterfly to pin up here. Whither goest I, so goest camera.