The wild winds of August …

… have arrived a little early.

Talking with Mike and Lyn last night, they tell us that here in Durban, August is the month of serious winds. Every year, without fail, the blow begins in earnest in the eighth month of the year and blows real hard for the next thirty days. Tonight, sitting here typing this, the gusts around the house are already pretty vicious and the rustle and snap of palm leaves gives lie to the gathering wind. All very cosy inside, but not so inviting out – although I love the sound of it hugely. Back home in England, we used to head for the coast if we could on days like this to pitch ourselves into the wind and watch the waves whip up high and smash against the rocks. Something slightly electrifying about all that ozone and energy. But for those entering the Vasco da Gama race between Durban and Maputo, it could be an eventful sail …

Mike and Lyn have a wonderful place out in the country not that far from us. The views are glorious and game roam around their grounds freely. Sat out until it got too cold under the stars, lit by the braii fire and a handsome twinkle of stars. They’ve been so generous with their invitations to join them for meals and a chatter, and we love their company. Easy folk and much fun.

And speaking of new friends, we had an SMS from James and Roz, whom we sailed with a few weeks back, and who have just bought a glorious old racing yacht they’re going to cruise on. After a forthcoming trip back to the UK, they’ll be coming down to Sunday Star to work on her some more – so we’ll meet up with them again to break bread and catch up on their news. We look forward to that hugely.

Dick went down to the marina today, to muse upon some of Butterfly’s electronic software. The taps and sinks have been removed from the bathrooms so the Corian repairs can be done. (Steven has organised two new Corian sheets to be made, which will be laid on top of the old. If the work is done carefully, the repair should be such you won’t know there was a problem). Just painting the surface white, to match the rest of the walls, is by far the quickest and easiest way to finish things, but the Corian is such a nice touch, we think it’s worth persevering to get right. Though it’s not an easy process to do in-house, we understand.

The anti-slip areas all repainted apparently – looking sparkling fresh and uber white. Good!

Also missing is the stackpack. We presume it’s been taken away for extra velcrose panels to be fitted to close the gaps around the Flaking Dutchman lines. Either that or someone took a shine to it, in which case they’re not the smartest tea leaf in the pot, since with Fastcat 455 (we’re actually a 445) plastered all over it, it won’t be hard to spot.

I’ve stayed back today, still sweating over a hot sewing machine. But sneaking out every so often onto the balcony to hand-sew in the sun. A gloriously hot day, but with those winds mentioned above building steadily, shaking the palms and jittering the Hadedas.

This morning, as most mornings, we donned our trainers and set out for a brisk walk. Crazy for us to think that despite all this sun and abundance of flowers and lush vegetation – it’s officially winter here. But the signs of spring are there too. The bright yellow Weaver Bird is busy making his nest – as you can see in the pic that opens this post. One of the most endearing and talented bundle of bright feathers to grace this planet. Could watch these particular birds for hours and hours …

To the point …

… and no messing. It’s gone midnight and I’m plum tuckered out. Soooo ….

• The agent brought back our passports today, complete with extended visa. Hooray! We’re officially legal until the end of October. Using the agency meant no queuing nonsense, no battling with officials and no hassle – worth every rand, we reckon.

• Change of heart regarding travel plans. Because of the delays in getting the boat finished, we’re going to be a little rushed getting to the Seychelles and back before the cyclone season starts – and won’t have time to explore more of the East coast of Africa, Madagascar etc – which we’d love to do, since there are so many reputed beauty spots worth exploring. Also, given it’s unlikely we’ll ever pass this way again, we’d like to enjoy it to the full while we can. So now, we’re thinking we’ll spend this next year in and around this part of the Indian Ocean with a full three months in the Seychelles come next April to June (they won’t let you stay longer than that apparently). So we won’t be rounding the Cape and heading for the Caribbean until the end of 2009. Plans still fluid, of course – all depends on how things turn out, but that applies to life in general. Doing it this way, it also means we can call back in to Durban for any repairs, fixes or assistance, should we need. The other advantage is that we learn to sail Butterfly in big waters (ain’t nothing small about the Wild Coast, that’s for sure) which would be great training for world cruising. It might sound a little daunting, but we already have a circle of good friends here who are life-long experienced sailors and who understand the seas and weather along this coastline very well, and who’ve kindly offered to sail with us when it suits all of us. Nothing finalised and Dick still busy checking out a rough itinerary and investigating the visa/port entry requirements on our Indian Ocean Visiting Wish List. But the lure of three months in the Seychelles is very strong indeed …

• Off to a enjoy a braai with newest bestest friends, Mike and Lyn tomorrow evening. Mike possibly joining us for a sail on Sunday if Butterfly is set up to allow us (Lyn happier on terra firma!). Not sure just yet whether this is possible – if so, this should be a great weekend.

• Some of you have already spotted, judging by this blog’s viewing figures today – I’ve uploaded a few more shots of Butterfly. Check out the blog photo gallery. Again, they’re not exactly sales brochure stuff (ha!) – still a little way to go before we can clear away the tools and mess and start dressing her up in her finery, but we’re getting there, we’re getting there …

And so to bed … g’night all!

Coming soon …

… well, any minute now, in fact – a new crop of Butterfly photos. Be warned, though, she’s still far from looking her best since there’s still some more work to be done – and inevitably there’s still a lot of junk and tools and mess. Happily, though, not for much longer: we’re coming into the final stages now. But rough or not, we like keeping a record of her progress – something to look back on when the bright day dawns and she’s finally primped and primed and looking more like a princess than Cinderella.

As for today, well, after our usual morning walk, we met with Steven as arranged, then headed for the marina to sort some odds and sods. Once aboard Butterfly, I went on a picture-taking spree while Dick talked electrics and electronics with Ken. Also, chatting with Doug, we’ve come up with what might be a splendid solution to the saloon doors – at least it’s a goer as far as we’re concerned. Just need to thrash out the nitty-gritty details. The new skirting boards in the hulls – now made of wood to match the veneer – are superb. A great touch and just the ticket. Won’t ramble on further about her progress – you’ll see for yourselves over on the blog gallery once I’ve uploaded the pics. It’ll take me a little while, so talk amongst yourselves… I’ll whistle when I’m done. More pics to come tomorrow.

We’re still not very happy about the internal fittings. But must say how ameniable Steven and Gideon have been, bending over backwards to give us the boat we want, always ready to consider and implement new ideas if practicable. As a result, she’s getting slicker, neater, crisper round the edges than before, and worth the extra work this has entailed. My only fear now concerns the flooring, (well, that and the veneer, but we’ll talk about that little problem later). Worryingly, the floor – despite the lovely Nana’s cleaning – still has far too many stains and areas of grub that haven’t come off. The floor was meant to go in last thing of all – or nearly last, but that didn’t happen, and so all the work traffic and the muck and dirt that ensues have left their mark. Just keeping fingers crossed Ken’s magic solution – forgotten the darned name again, but it’s some sort of industrial strength cleaning agent – can get things sweet and pristine clean eventually. After all, a new boat should have a new-looking floor, not something that wouldn’t look out of place on an old Thames barge. I’m exaggerating, it’s not quite that bad, but it does need to be improved.

While down there, much to our delight, we bumped into Neil again. Neil is the guy who took us sailing not long after we first came out here. He’s a great bloke, a good friend now, and what he doesn’t know about all things boaty isn’t worth knowing. He also returned a pair of my specs I’d left on his training boat, Standfast. In an earlier post I mentioned my ability to lose these darn things – I really wasn’t kidding. For example, there’s another pair of my spectacles waiting for me in Madeira. I lost those overboard when we sailed with Frank and Martha – and a kindly neighbour of theirs dived down and retrieved them, but only after we’d returned to the UK. Alas, I fear the time for a spectacle chain (Dick hates those things!) is fast arriving.

Anyhoo, Neil and his brother Colin will be competing in the annual Vasco Da Gama race from Maputo to Durban that begins on 31st July. Given the forecast, they should have an ‘interesting’ time of it – some serious blows are on the agenda and their chosen vessel is not much more than a soapdish – shallow-sided and only 30ft. Neil, we’re delighted to say, will be coming with us to test sail Butterfly once we move aboard – can’t wait.

Anyway, enough chirping – off now to upload those photos. If you’ve a mind to, check out the blog gallery a little later. Sometime tomorrow will upload the rest.

Adios amigos …

And here’s one …

… I prepared earlier:

Recipe:

Take one bird of paradise flower (found on morning walk).

Shoot with a new Panasonic Fz18.

Cook up with a little Adobe Photoshop.

Et voila!

On the move …

… yet again. Despite my earlier assertion we wouldn’t be moving again, well, guess what – we just have. It’s back to the Loft once more. Jack and Lena’s second floor apartment, complete with secluded balcony, affords us more space and privacy than the bungalow annex we’ve just come from, and now that the Loft’s previous guests have left, Lena kindly suggested we reclaim it. Lena, it must be said, has been absolutely wonderful throughout. Nothing is ever too much trouble, she seems to think of your every need before you do, and the standard of housekeeping and cleanliness is second to none. Knowing how much I love flowers, every few days a vase of fresh ones appear – the old ones never allowed to get beyond their best before the new arrive. To be honest, we’ve never stayed anywhere else with hosts that show quite the same devotion to trying to please. She and Jack have made this very prolonged stay of ours a real vacation. (Btw, Here’s a link to their website, if you’re ever around these parts and have need of a place to stay, we heartily recommend it). Both Lena and Caroline, her daughter, have a horrid flu-like virus at the moment, which has laid them both low, so we’re wishing them both a speedy recovery. Yet even with a raging temperature – and she must be feeling hellish – Lena has still been busy organising things so, with the help of Cosi – one of the maids, our move today was swift and painless. If you saw the amount of boxes and junk and clobber we have amassed around us, including sewing machine, great wodges of material, suitcases, toiletries, books – the list goes on and on – you’d realise what a feat that was!

Anyhoo – speaking of maids, and at the risk of appearing indiscriminately gushy, both Selena and Cosi, Lena’s regular helpers, are a revelation – and a joy. Selena, a single mother in her forties, is putting her 21-year old daughter through university by the only way she knows how – by working her butt off. Monday to Friday she’s engaged full time cleaning and housekeeping for another employer. Then come the weekend she puts in two full days here at Like Home. A seven day working week she’s done for many years. She’s as honest as the day is long and can (and frequently does) talk the hind leg off a donkey, but is a pleasure and an education to listen to. Her musings about crime and Aids and the increasing outbreaks of zenophobia here in South Africa are delivered in a swooping breathy sing-song that eventually fades away leaving you sure she’s finished speaking, only for the spoken song to resume with renewed volume and tempo in a new refrain, one that lilts seamlessly on … and on … and on. Each thought thoroughly examined, repeated, restated, always with much emphasis on a particular word – Selena’s chosen mot du jour – until at last it’s run its course, the sing- song dissolving into a haunting repetition of the same phrase over and over, in diminuendo. All this accompanied by much rhythmical shaking of her head, eyes tightly shut. It is almost as if she’s comforting herself from the troubles she talks about. But then darn if she doesn’t catch you on the hop again, for suddenly those eyes pop wide open and she’ll gabble something I rarely catch, before throwing back her head and breaking into joyous peels of laughter. Think of Ray Charles singing a very repetitive lullaby, punctuated now and then by a hard rock riff – that’s Selena. I love her!

On the other hand, Cosi, is young and ambitious – not for children (I don’t think she has any)- but for herself. The ills of the world hold little interest for her, one suspects. She’s immensely competent and poised – and has an assurance and sense of direction that’s missing in many of the African menial staff we’ve met to date. Admirably, she’s putting herself through a housekeeping and management course with a view to better job prospects – which she’ll find: she has that innate quality of self-possession and quiet authority that commands respect. Although far less talkative than Selena, she, too, is a pleasure to listen to – for Cosi sings in a choral society and occasionally, when going about her work, she’ll fill the air with her light but wonderfully melodious warbling. That her team didn’t win in last weekend’s singing competition was no reflection of Cosi’s talent, that’s for sure. “It was a fix,” declared a peeved Cosi, savagely attacking the washing-up. But even so, she must have taken the judgment to heart, for she hasn’t sung a note these past three days. I wish she cheers up soon – I miss her singing. Besides, anyone who can take it on herself to consign my hideous old trainers to the soaking tub and washing machine, without being asked, and return them the same day, sweet and fresh and so stunningly clean they look newer than when they left the shop – well, that’s a gal who’ll go far in life. Dame Cosi (it’s only a matter of time), we salute you!

And for now, I’ll leave it there. Although many of you are sailing fans, or buying a FastCat, or are catamaran enthusiasts, and so are following this blog for news of Butterfly, our new home and Gideon’s latest FC 455 to be launched (more news of which as soon as we have any, I promise) – I hope you’ll understand that it’s also intended as a record – chiefly for ourselves, I suppose – of some of the people and places and events that shape our life here. Therefore, rather than a neat, rigidly disciplined boating blog that confines itself to boaty chatter only, this little blog of ours is inevitably destined to become an ethereal scrapbook of impressions, snaps, and anecdotes drawn from all aspects of our new life – wet or dry. Hope that suits. If not, then for those who are only here for the sailing stuff, just tune out the dry bits. Once we get aboard Butterfly, I’m sure there’ll be wet – i.e. sailing – ramblings a-plenty.

Till the morrow … ‘night, gentle peeps.

the moral of the story is …

… don’t leave home without your glasses. Well not if you’re as visually challenged as like wot I am. Really – it is a sad, sad day when you can’t even read the big bold dials on your camera without specs. This little fella (click on him and check him out large size – go on, he’s real pretty) – was taken with my new Panasonic Fz18 (thanks Mr G!). A marvellous little pixelator with, as the name implies, 18 x zoom. Our feathered friend here was way up high right across the other side of the street – yonks away. But the Fz18 caught every last feather. Whereas I could just about see the darned bird, but couldn’t read so much as a squiggle on the camera’s dial. Forget Point & Shoot – this was Point, Shoot and Pray. By the way, I’m thanking Gideon, because knowing I was keen on trying out the Panasonic, he very kindly ordered one for me and brought it out to Durban. Just hoping he’s enjoying his own Fz18 – he bought one too – as much as I am.

On the other hand, even the Fz18 needs a little input from the hapless spec-less operator sometimes.

Oh very dear.

On the subject of failing eyesight, am I the only one who loses her specs every five minutes? Or is this just another delightful affliction of middle age? Or of my increasingly scatty noodle? By my reckoning, the trail of my lost, mislaid, abandoned, dropped, broken, unhinged, splayed-hinged, scratched and scuppered spectacles now covers several continents and a few oceans – and ocean beds. Foster Grant share prices must be doing very nicely.

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Apologies, this (thankfully short) ramble has bugger all to do with boats, tonight. Well, okay, just a little boaty business, then: because we did meet with Steven again this morning to sort out some other stuff – nothing of any interest here. Except we got a good peek at the Aladdin’s Cave that Gideon has stocked up with all sorts of goodies for the ocean-crossing package. Towels, bread-makers, linen, anodes, toolkits, sieves (sieves!), kitchen knives, lifejackets – you name it, it seems to be there. Everything except a cuddly toy (Bruce Forsyth fans will know). Oooh – but if no cuddly toy, then there are some of the snazziest, most luxurious, most soft and pliable and superstrong Lyros mooring lines to make up for it. The absolute Rolls-Royce of warps. They’re gorgeous to handle and spring-loaded, so kind to crew and boat. And they look wonderful. We’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating: Gideon has gone out of his way to supply these FastCats with some seriously stylish and tip-top quality gear. We’re just chomping at the bit to try it all out.

It’s been a l-o-n-g day …

… so forgive me but this post is going to be rather short. Forgive, too, the bullet point approach, but it’s the speediest route to keeping a record of the day’s doings. Soooooo ….

• Dick’s S.A. Skipper ticket will finally be signed sealed and delivered come Tuesday. Just need to get an official eye test to prove he knows his red from his green to clinch it. That he can’t be colour-blind because he already has a clutch of RYA sailing qualifications is a logic too far for the S.A.S. Their Rulz is their Rulz and common sense is no excuse. Heigh-ho.

• Down to the boat at lunchtime to meet with Steven (that man is a real treasure) to compile another snag list of outstanding tasks to be completed and problems that need rectifying. A real thorough session – (thanks Steven) – and a very valuable one. The list isn’t that long, and most of it is pretty small beer, but there are a few items that will take a little longer to sort out. For instance, the Corian work surface in both bathrooms is very clearly uneven in colour and tone and unsightly – a workmanship error. Not something you can ignore or ‘get used to’ either: it’s far too obvious a flaw for that. Why this wasn’t reported and addressed ages ago when it would have been easier to repair, we’re not sure. Unfortunately, fixing this isn’t just a matter of polishing it out as we’d hoped – it’s already been polished to within an inch of its life. So finding the solution is a bit of a head-scratcher, but it has to be done.

• Some electrical (possibly programming?) error means we can’t get the AIS and NMEA data to run concurrently on the Raymarine E Series. At the moment, nobody is sure why not. Another headscratcher, but advice being sought and emails flying around.

• Various minor additions – like extra rubber shock absorbers to be fitted to external lockers for better cushioning. Little things like that which just make life aboard easier and safer. And there are still sundry items that need to be made or finished or installed, but again, nothing very major.

• Thoroughly pleasing, and definitely worth mentioning, are the new saloon ceiling battens (that were previously a wood finish); these have now been repainted ivory to match the liner and are excellent – a perfect colour match – and, as I’d hoped, provide a far sleeker ‘classical’ uncluttered look to the ceiling. We’re really chuffed about these. Funny how a small detail change like this can make such a difference.

• The repositioning of the clutch panel that feeds halyards and lines to the electric winch above (on the transom) coming along very nicely. This is necessary since we suddenly discovered on the second test sail that we were getting a sort of riding turn on the winch – the cause being the mainsail halyard wasn’t feeding on to the winch correctly – a poor alignment from the clutch. Weird thing is it worked just fine on the first test sail, so it’s odd it should cause problems on the second. The solution has been to move the clutch panel back so it feeds better to the winch.

• Other than these little ‘challenges’ (PMA is the name of the game, folks!) – it’s all looking very good indeed. Yes, there are other little glitches (like damage to the fuel feed line that we think occured when the engine was taken out for repairs following Racing Reg’s little trucking disaster) but they can be put right fairly easily. And I really must stress – the whole point of today’s exercise was to focus solely on the flaws and oversights and outstanding work, so that soon, Butterfly will be beautiful inside and out and fully functional throughout. New boats are almost expected to come with a set of bugs that need fixing but here the aim is to de-bug thoroughly before we move aboard – which is how it should be. All the good things – and there are far, far more of those – we didn’t concern ourselves with today, there would be no point.

• Later, after leaving Steven, we raced back to Lena and Jack’s (our B&B hosts) because we had to move yet again out of their loft apartment and into the ground floor one by the pool, (the Loft having been booked for this weekend by another customer some months back.) Thankfully, this, our third move, will also be the final one in Gillits. The next move will be on to the boat once she’s properly finished. After a long day, and having carted all our worldly goods (well most of ‘em) down the stairs and settling in, we were too tired to be bothered cooking, so tootled wearily off to Aubergine’s in Hillcrest for some nosh. Lovely food beautifully presented – just a darn shame their chef is too heavy-handed with the salt.

• And that about concludes it. Dick now nodding off over a good book; me typing this surrounded by a sea of half-made curtains, my ancient-but-beloved sewing machine, and a clutter of boxes and suitcases spilling stuff I know not wot of. Tomorrow I’ll impose a little order – and hunt for a black evening shoe that’s gone strangely awol – but not tonight. Tonight we’re beat and bushed and heading straight for the silkies …

Sleep well y’all.

Sometimes the force is with you …

… and sometimes it ain’t. And of late, as far as local internet connection goes – it mostly ain’t. Hence the recent radio silence. So first up, our apologies to the rapidly growing numbers of you who now tune in every day – your loyalty – and/or curiosity – or should that be shameful idleness (we jesteth, promith) – never ceases to amaze and delight us. You’re much appreciated, honestly. Anyway, here then, a quick update before the cyber gremlins scupper the show once more.

• Today, a phone call from the DOC people, again summoning Dick to an appointment for his interview – again, giving only a paltry 2 hours notice. Wonderful. And that only after Dick’s having phoned them religiously twice a day for the last nine days and always with no one picking up their phone at t’other end – until yesterday. Frustrating stuff. Yesterday, the guy responsible finally answers the phone, but insists he can’t give a firm time or date for the interview, and will have to phone back ‘later’ with those. Why? Hell knows. Today, he does phone back (halle-bloody-lujah) but with the aforesaid crummy lack of notice. We Limeys have a rather colourful expression that’s appropriate here involving piss-ups and breweries. If you’re not familiar with it, google those two items and you’ll understand why it fits perfectly. Anyway, success at last. After the interview (we won’t even go there), Dickat last has his DOC chit. But a word of advice: if any other FastCatters intend going through the same process (or anyone out there reading this has a South African registered boat and wants to skipper it in and around Durban Port and local waters), make darn sure you first know the Durban Port lights – every bloody one of ‘em! The guy before Dick failed to get that all-important DOC licence because he didn’t.

• Also, met with an agency guy who is going to organise our visa extensions. After taking advice, the business of doing this for ourselves appears to be fraught with difficulty and would require many hours standing in a queue, possibly returning to said queue for a number of days until we were eventually dealt with. And the Home Affairs building where this process occurs is in a very unpleasant area of town. Nice, eh? By all accounts the whole silly milarky (a bit like the daft DOC system) is a shambolic mess and everyone moans like hell, but still it is allowed to continue. For all his vaunted cleverness, man’s abject inefficiency is a wonder at times.

• Lastly, spent much of the afternoon down on the boat with the guys. We’re growing increasingly fond of them – they’re almost family now. Again, more idea bashing for smartening things up (there’s a particularly nasty join in both the cabins, involving the ceiling liner, that needs remedying) and Doug is going to supervise it (he’s yer man as far as care and attention to detail goes). Doug has also come up with a solution to the vibration – a sort of deep thrumming noise – heard below decks when the wind blows hard. I’m struggling to come up with the right terminology here, so forgive me, but the cause of this noise is the shroud protective covers (above the turnbuckle). The shrouds vibrate with strong wind movement and that vibration is magnified by the protective covers. Doug’s solution is to install a rubber ’shock-absorbing’ ring at both the top and bottom necks of the covers. To be honest, we’re sure we’d get used to it, and just tune the noise out after a little while – as you do – but it would be nice to actually eliminate it altogether – so go Douglas, go!

Other than that, there’s little news. I’m still ploughing my way through the curtain-making spree (next time I decide to get clever with satin binding and self-covered buttons, somebody lead me to Home and Hearth’s Ready-Made Section, please) – and Dick’s in the final stages of sorting out his South African Skipper Licence documentation for SAS (South African Sailing) approval. With luck, by the end of the week, we should be legally entitled to sail our own boat – and about time too! The weather is gloriously sunny, but chilly in the shade, and a spectacular series of lusty gusts rattled the panes and lulled us to sleep last night. And … well, it’s all good.

More later when there’s something worth twittering the ether with – and when the Internet allows. May the force (whatever brand butters your toast) be with each and every one of you.

Ciao for now m’dearies …

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Footnote: Why open this post with a pic of a car and jib sheet? Because that sheet (10mm dyneema) is just so darn pretty!

Work stops play …

… but only for a while we hope. The sea trials fun has now halted while Steven and his team hurry to make the necessary adjustments and finish off outstanding jobs. And we need to do a bit of work ourselves in preparation for moving on board. Some of that work is chasing little bits of paper. Dick’s still waiting for the Durban Port people to give him an appointment for the DOC (Durban Operator’s Certificate) interview. He’s tried jollying them along, but nobody answers the phone. To be fair, they did phone once, and offered him a time – but only three hours before the proposed meeting, and since that was during the morning of the second sea trial, he couldn’t accept anyway. Seems we must just wait it out. The bugger is that without that DOC ticket, we can’t skipper ourselves. We must also renew our visas – how fast these three months will have flown by. Then there are the other visas to arrange, for places like Mozambique – which we hope to sail to before the end of the year. All of which beggars the question: how on earth did the world ever spin before man invented the rubber stamp??? Pfff.

Tomorrow, we’re on the move again. We’ve been at Lena and Jack’s for so long now, poor Lena is having to shuffle us around to fit her pre-existing bookings. But it’s all good, the place has absolutely everything we need, and we’re getting better at this living-out-of-boxes lark – it’s good practice for life aboard Butterfly. And y’know, it’s amazing how few clothes you really need when practicalities rule the day. Besides, fashion parades are definitely off … especially those involving expensive accessories: de-accessorising to order (and at knifepoint) is a regular if rather alarming feature of Durban life.

Anyway, thought we’d show you our bijou hideaway, out here in the altogether safer and leafier suburbs of Gillitts. So here’s a shot of the loft apartment (upstairs, the one with the balcony) where we’ve spent most of our stay.

And below is another shot of where we are now, as I type this, in the little bungalow beside the pool (the one with the red awnings).

Tomorrow, we move back to the Loft again, but it’s booked again on the 19th, and after that – well, we’re not sure where we’ll be – still on terra firma or onboard Butterfly. All of which suits us just fine: we’ve taken to this gypsying life with surprising ease and very happily. After all, it was both of us having a strong antipathy to staying put that prompted the adventure of living aboard a cruising catamaran. We’ve always liked change – especially if it’s for the better.

Will report back soonishly with any/all boat progress stuff, but for now, while Dick applies himself to a spot of book-keeping (tumbling share prices are such a hoot, aren’t they?! [pass the Kleenex somebody] – another good reason for not watching TV or buying newspapers: two things we’ve more or less avoided since leaving England) … er, where was I? Oh yes, while Dick counts our diminishing fortune (ha!), yours truly must hie her carcass back to the sewing machine (mass production of curtains and tiebacks for the boat – what larks!)

Enjoy your weekend, folks …

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Footnote: The spinny in the first photo of this post was made (like all our sails) by Quantum Sails South Africa. Checkout their website, scroll down a little, and you’ll find a photo of our spinny in production. (Okay, so maybe it’s not that interesting …)

The sun also rises …

… well rose, then, on our second sea trials and the wind blew light and fair. A little too light to be perfect for our purposes, but mustn’t grumble. Those light airs were just dandy for Craig and Jay from Quantum sails to fine tune the main and rig the reefing lines. As it happened, we found the reefing lines too short, so new ones ordered. The jib has been modified (leech reduced) and now sits very well. Because it had to be modified to accommodate the large spreaders (it was catching on them when first installed), we now have a rather smaller sail area at the fore, and the main tends to overpower it when close hauled. Not a train smash, exactly, since the main can be trimmed to provide a better balance. New FastCat models will have different mast options which should eliminate the spreader problems altogether. The excellent news from where we sit is that the boat still sails beautifully – and fast – and the rig is fabulously strong. This latter statement endorsed by a chance remark by Craig who obviously knows his onions about such things. And oh, we do like ’strong’ – very much!

The big event of this morning was flying the spinny. It’s as pretty as you could wish for – and although not that large at 125 sq metres, still gave us an impressive – “5.7 knots boat speed with 8 knots of apparent wind at 90 degrees” – that being the hastily scribbled note Dick made at the time. To be honest, I was far too busy trying to photograph it (with a camera on its last drop of battery juice) to check speeds – and wishing I could have got a little further away from it, to reveal more of its gorgeousity. I’ve given credit on the blog gallery to those responsible for this snazzy not-so-little number, but no harm in mentioning them here, too. So thanks Mike (my talented little bro – he’s younger than me, so will always be my ‘little’ bro) for designing it; thanks Craig for bringing it to life; and thanks Gideon for thinking of the idea in the first place. Sorry, shall schtum it now with all this spinny-lurrrrv, before I get too misty-eyed and bore you all to tears. (But ooooh, it really is a beaut - honest!)

It was a real shame we had only a short time to play today, but Craig had another appointment to honour. Nevertheless, despite that and the light airs, it was still very useful. A number of improvements/modifications will be made as a result of today’s exercise – these to Butterfly - and Gideon, as ever, still coming up with new ideas for future models. This tireless improvement quest is marvellous to witness, and something you soon get tuned into once you embark on the (slightly roller-coaster!) experience of buying a FastCat. We’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating – we can’t think of any other boat designer/builder who would even consider operating this way with all the extra costs this incurs. Nor would their customers be allowed to have so much input.

After the sail, the FastCat contingent – Gideon, Andreas, Kyle, Dick and I – trundled off to a little cafe for a spot of lunch. Fascinating place – can’t for the life of me remember the name. If a British Health and Hygiene inspector saw the kitchens, it would be closed down before you could say “listeria hysteria” – but was none the worse for that. And if the food wasn’t hot and the wait interminable (transport strikes in Durban today, so no taxis, so no staff), well, the quaint decor with its muralled flowers and yellowed newspaper cuttings, and above all the graciousness of the rather ancient owner – more than made up for it. Besides, we were hungry enough not to care and the chief business of the day had been achieved. The result of which is our confidence in the boat, and the love affair with Butterfly herself who is fast becoming an organic creation with a burgeoning personality of her own, grows ever stronger by the day.

Footnote and apologia: Just realised in the Navigate page (see headers above), the link for reading this blog in chronological order from very first post to very latest, has been throwing a wobbly. Awfully sorry, have given it a kick, so all good now. (Here’s the link anyway. It should be on its best behaviour.)