That was the week …

… that was. And a half. So much has happened one way and another (with much going on behind the scenes) that it’s been another roller-coaster ride of highs and lows. But at least, by this Sunday night, we’ve finished feeling reasonably happy and with a much clearer idea of what we must now do.

And at least Butterfly is now back in the water, and back in her same old mooring at the marina. A little bruised from her recent dry docking – we’ll need a new rubbing strake -  but other than that she withstood the adventure very well. The fact that she stood on the hard for 30 hours or more, balanced only on the tips of her keels and two stern stands speaks volumes about the strength of her carapace – which is hugely reassuring.  And thanks to John, our surveyor and newest bestest friend, we are now in possession of much more information about the detail and quality of Butterfly’s build which is eminently useful for many reasons. Anyway, without any more to-do, a quick run-down of the last three days:

Friday 29th:

Work continued replacing the engine, prop, sail-drive leg etc trying to ensure a watertight seal. All corroded anodes were replaced and by the end of the day she was able to be lifted back into the water.  Dick, Karl, Doug, Matt and I motored her back to the marina mooring. Her portside engine was much quieter than before. Steven attributes this to lowering the engine on its mounting, but whatever the reason, it sounds a lot healthier than the alarming vibration we were getting before.  However, we are still getting nothing like enough speed out of her twin 40hp Lombardini engines. At full power in a calm sea and all we get is a miserly 7.9-8.0 knots when we should be seeing more like 11-12. The fault definitely appears to lie with the props. Expect to read a lot more about this problem and its causes, later …

Saturday 30th:

Dick went down to the marina where a couple of FastCat staff were cleaning Butterfly. The mess after the engine removal was quite considerable so much to clean. Dick made a point of checking the portside engine compartment, found just a tablespoon of water and mopped it up so we could check if there was any further ingress.

I left Dick to go to the boat alone, instead joined Anneke and Arnold (friends of Gideon, now staying at the same B&B as us) – for their BioDanza session in the early afternoon. They travel extensively giving these classes and are wonderful exponents of what they teach. For myself, well, any excuse to dance – especially to some of the lovely music they selected – is reward enough. Once a hoofer, always a hoofer.

Saturday night, Mike, Lyn, Michelle and Mark, Dick and I struck out for the Moulin Rouge cabaret at Hillcrest and had us a merry ol’ time.

Sunday 31st – Today:

Mid-morning, we met John and an associate of his, Ken, an engineer, aboard Butterfly to continue the survey. Thoroughly enlightening it was too. And thoroughly thorough.  Looking forward to receiving John’s full written report.  Cannot emphasise enough how glad we are to have his assistance.

While on the boat, found some water staining – again in the portside cabin, but above the engine compartment this time (btw, the engine compartment still dry – hooray!). I’ve seen this veneer marking before (when we thought it might be due to excessively wet cleaning), but if it’s dried out, unfortunately, it’s left a series of stains in the veneer. Some mould evident now, too – so this section will need replacing. Don’t think it can be a leak, anyway, since there’s no obvious source for it. However, you never know, so this will need far closer inspection. Definitely another item for the snag list then.

After saying goodbye to John and Ken, met up with Mike and Lyn, Michelle and Mark aboard Butterfly to show them around. Mike trying to convince us we must install a braai on the transom rail – all the better to barbeque the fish he loves to catch. We’ll think about that one … for Mike’s sake, if nothing else.  We’ve got to keep him happy – apart from being a great pal, he’s promised to teach Dick to fish!  A vicious squall stopped play as it swept into the marina with a bank of menacing, bruised clouds that blacked out the sun. Fierce winds drove us into The Spur eatery round at Wilson’s Wharf where we tucked into some fast food with gusto and to hell with the cholesterol count.

By the time we emerged, the squall had passed and the wind had fled. Weather that seems to mirror our experiences with getting Butterfly ready to sail away – sunshine and squalls in rapid succession with the odd period of calm between. But whatever the trials and tribulations – and there will be more to come, of that we’re sure -  life certainly ain’t dull!

Have a good week, gentle people.

Just to say …

… sorry for not uploading the photos of Butterfly’s recent removal from the water (to repair an engine compartment leak and change anodes). These have been busy days with little or no time for internetting. And when time has permitted – no bloody internet!  Bear with us – I will keep persevering and, hopefully, should have more pics for viewing very soon. Also an update of what’s happening Butterfly-wise. But for now, an inspector calls (J B Priestly, anyone?) – and we must dash ……………… !

The building of Butterfly …

… has become something of an odyssey in itself. And rather like the children’s board game of Snakes and Ladders, it’s sometimes felt like two steps forward, one step back. This week was definitely more snake than ladder. Here’s why:

• On Monday morning things were looking good. The very last stages of finishing off seemed to be in good progress and the possibility of moving aboard her by the end of the week – ten days at the very most – seemed highly likely.

• On Tuesday morning the SAS guys (South African Sailing) carried out a successful safety inspection and we’re told Butterfly passed without any problems.

• On Tuesday afternoon, we intended to take her out to further adjust the props’ pitch. Before leaving, we inspected the bilges and and found (apart from an empty coke bottle and half a dozen rags and a lot of nasty gunk) that again the portside engine compartment had water in it.  We have seen water here before some time back and know it must have been spotted by FastCat employers too, so assumed it would have been attended to. Alarm bells start to ring. After all, it was the portside hull prop and sail drive leg that was damaged during the crazy transit from the factory to the waterside way back in early May. A faulty repair perhaps? We talk about this with some of the FastCat guys working on board the boat.

• Wednesday morning, only a few hours after our discovery, Steven suddenly informs us they have found ‘a slight leak’ in the portside engine compartment. Coincidence is a wonderful thing, no?

• Wednesday evening, Dick, I, Kyle and Matt motor Butterfly across the marina to the dock wharf where she will be craned out of the water the following day to find and repair the ’small leak’. All her underwater anodes will be replaced at the same time.

• Thursday morning – 7 a.m. – we gather at the dockside prior to Butterfly’s removal from the water. Hang around till about 9.30 ish, till the crane guys show up and Butterfly is lifted. Odd sight seeing your boat rise from the water like a monstrous, but rather majestic bird.

• Thirty minutes later, precariously balanced only on the forward tips of her keels and rudders (a sure way to test her strength, that’s for sure – though it bothered me to see her so unsupported), Butterfly looks a rather bedraggled sight. Gunk and worse from Durban marina plastered to her underside. Portside prop anode horribly corroded. (This evening I’ll put photos up in the blog gallery to show you.) Thankfully, starboard anode looking a lot healthier. Already some corrosion on underside safety line bolt plates.

• Work begins removing the portside prop and sail drive leg and much scratching of heads looking for any possible weak area where water might have ingressed.  The engine is also removed. The props are taken for cleaning and fresh anodes mounted.

• Thursday afternoon and no one is any the wiser about where the leak is coming from. But work continues to put everything back together again. We’re told it is a small, slow leak – so finding the source of it isn’t going to be easy. But, however difficult, find it they must.

• Late Thursday afternoon, as the FastCat team are leaving, our own independent boat inspector arrives. Having Butterfly out of the water is a good thing from his point of view. It better enables him to thoroughly check her underside. John is one of the best surveyors around and comes highly recommended. As he starts to check her over, we can see precisely why. It’s very reassuring to know you’re in good, safe, and highly experienced hands.  But the purpose of this initial visit is just to give us an overview and he will return today for a further inspection, and then a very full and detailed one later, once Butterfly is returned to the water and he can put her through her paces in every respect and evaluate her fully.  While the discovery of this leak might be considered a rather poisonous snake, John, on the other hand, is providing a much appreciated ladder.

Heigh-ho. We live in ‘interesting’ times, as they say …

A disasterous dentist …

… is best avoided at all costs. But if like me, you find yourself already in the chair, mouth open, wondering if the so-called expert about to wield the drill is as hopelessly incompetent as you suspect – do as I do and – make for the door … FAST.

We both had a good all round dental check-up before we left the UK. But I must have lost part of a filling since we’ve been out here in S.A. It’s nothing terrible, but it does need fixing – icecream and chewy things aren’t fun any more (which will never do). So we book an appointment at an established dental practice and take our chances with their choice of operator. At 8.30 am this morning, this turns out to be a charming lady, youngish, very organised, but who starts talking about root canal work from the get-go. Let’s make it clear here, I am not climbing the walls with agony (well, not yet ) – and I am certain that all I need is a quick bit of Polyfilla-ing, not major excavation. She obviously thinks otherwise. I then get a solemn lecture about the likelihood that things will get a lot more painful before they get better – and that this is a road I must travel down before full dental health is restored. She’s still very smiley, very calm; I’m rather less so. Even so, I open wide and watch out of the corner of my eye as she loads a syringe with something and proceeds to perforate my cheek with it – a painkiller I presume. Only it won’t kill pain – it can’t possibly – because as she squeezes the trigger, instead of the Novocaine (or whatever) flooding into flesh, it’s gushing in a spurt into my mouth and trickling down my throat. And within seconds of swallowing, my heart is rushing like the wind and I’m tripping out. A really weird sensation, too – all spaced out and floaty, but with a pulse that’s roaring away. I tell her about this distinctly unpleasant phenomenon.

“Might be cos you’re lying back,” she says sweetly. “Sitting up might help.”

“Excuse me?” The daftness of her logic has me stumped.

“Can you feel it going numb yet?” she continues brightly.

“No, I can’t,” I say.

Although that depends on what part of my anatomy she’s referring to. My brain is definitely numb, but alas, my jaw definitely isn’t. In fact, thanks to the rapid onset of wooziness, my jaw is now a whole lot happier than the rest of me.

“We’ll just have to wait,” she says unconcerned.

But I am very concerned: my head is lighter than a gin-soaked feather and no amount of waiting is going to put the painkiller I’ve swallowed to work on my jaw. And this is before she gets handy with high-speed drills. Patiently I explain again that she has not administered the analgesic properly.

“You swallowed it? Oh well, why didn’t you say so straight away!” she cries disapprovingly. “That stuff tastes awful!”

Sod the bloody taste, it’s the weird effect it’s having that’s worrying me. She sets about loading another syringe. I have some quick decisions to make. I check the door. Wonder if I can make it out of the chair to there in a straight line. “Open wide and we’ll just pop another shot into you…” The decision is made. Two lots of that stuff and I’ll need scraping off the ceiling.

I’m up and reaching for my bag. She says nothing – I don’t give her the chance – and slightly unsteadily, I’m out of the room, down the passage, weaving out through the reception doors, heading for the sanctuary of our rental car.

Back at the B&B we tell Lena. Her daughter, Caroline, is to see the same dentist within the hour. (It was Lena who gave me the number to contact). Caroline is also due for root canal work according to the (not-so) good dentist. After hearing of my experience, Lena and Caroline are obviously less than happy now about going through with this. Anyhoo, forewarned is forewarned, and once at the surgery, they explain they would now like a second opinion. Another lady dentist examines Caroline’s offending tooth and says it looks just fine – at least for now. No work necessary. They’re far more generous than I who left without even thinking of opening our wallet; they make their excuses but offer to pay for the consultation anyway. Oh She- of-the-Drill is now livid. Two patients within the space of two hours questioning her fitness to operate is not making her very happy. She no longer smiles; she is no longer calm. Instead of mis-administered Novacaine, she doses them with a large helping of verbal venom. Which is definitely surplus to requirements: they too make for the sanctuary of the waiting car.

Sooooo … back at the ranch, a big sigh of relief that we have all escaped the drill-happy dame’s bungling incompetence. Now the hunt is on for a local tooth-technician who’s good with a little Polyfilla.

Phew. That was close …

counting down …

… the days till we can move aboard. Been doing that for some time now, of course, but the end is tantalisingly in sight – at long, long last. Even so, still some jobs to be completed in this coming week:

• Watermaker still not quite plumbed in properly – but almost done.
• Anchor tipper to be modified and refitted.
• Dishwasher veneer door to be sanded and revarnished.
• Bathroom & shower rooms need light buffing of paintwork.
• SSB cable installation to be finished.
• Ceiling woodwork trim to portside cabin to be fitted.
• Cockpit table to be installed.
• Bathroom Corian trims to be fitted.
• Stainless steel plate beneath saloon doors to be fitted.
• Some repainting and touching up on deck/cockpit/anti-slip areas.
• SSB power supply node to be fitted.
• New saloon doors to be fitted.
• Door frame seal to be devised and installed.
• Shower portside drain to be cleared.
• Crockery cupboard trim to be sanded and revarnished.

There may be a couple of extra items we’re not aware of to add to that. Anyway, not a huge list, and nothing there that should take much time, but, oh brother, it will be so wonderful when all those jobs have finally been crossed off. There are other tasks too, of course, like fitting the saloon soft furnishings, but those will done at the very last moment to avoid accidental damage and – fingers firmly crossed – shouldn’t present any problems. (Though I feel it’s tempting fate to even say so).

However, calling in at the boat, today, breathed an absolutely humungous sigh of relief to find that after the lovely Nana’s efforts, the floor has come up beautifully throughout. For the first time in many, many months – hey, it actually looks new! Woo-hoo! The difficulty with work continuing for so long on the boat is that tools get dropped, oil spilled, knocks and scuffs and scratches appear – and then all those imperfections have to be sorted out, which takes even more time. So now that she finally looks so smart, we’re anxious that any outstanding work is completed quickly before fresh blemishes appear. Though to be honest, I’m at the stage now, I think I’ll take a Black ‘n Decker to any unfortunate cackhand that undoes any of the recent good work … and believe me, I won’t stop at bevelling their edges.

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Tomorrow, we meet to play silly buggers getting the props pitched perfectly. This may take some time, but it’s got to be done. The plan is for Doug to don his wetsuit, hop in the drink and tweak the prop setting; we then fire up the engines, and zoom off to see what effect the adjustment has made. And so on, until the perfect pitch – or as perfect as we can get it – is attained. Doug is a diving enthusiast, but even so, he’s probably got a few thousand other things he’d rather do than this. But needs must.

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Also tomorrow, before we start with the prop pitch business, SAMSA (South African Maritime Safety Association) will be visiting Butterfly for her safety approval inspection.

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Calling in at the Point Yacht Club bar for a swift snorter before heading home, bumped into Neil. Neil is the guy who took us sailing for a couple of weeks and more when we first came out here, back in May. Great to spend some time with him again, and we very much look forward to his joining us for a sail one of these days – and fairly soonishly. Neil’s a veteran mariner of the Wild Coast – and has some lively tales to tell of sailing in these, ahem, ‘challenging’ waters. A good man, great company, and a safe and seasoned pair of hands to have aboard.

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Not such a good man is the minister of the cloth who, under the influence of too much Holy Water, drove his car into the yacht club’s car park pay booth … and flattened it. Unfortunately, the booth attendant was in it at the time. Unlike the booth which was reduced to a sad little heap of rubble, the lady attendant is likely to make a full recovery in hospital. That the booth was sited off the slip road that leads to it, and tucked behind some bushes and a full set of entry poles, makes the dipso cleric’s destruction of it all the more miraculous. The Lord moves in mysterious ways, it’s true – especially when his earthly Durban-based messenger is eight sheets to the bloody wind.

Heigh-ho.

Tuesday, Tuesday …

… watermaker blues day. Well, not really, just a handful of leaks from the darn thing. Doug going to check all the seals and do the necessaries, which should – should – just do the trick. Fingers crossed.

To explain: yesterday’s test sail was postponed until today because of inclement weather. (Yesterday too much wind; today too little). But if the lack of puff spoiled the fun, rather, at least we were able to carry out some technical testing on a smoothish sea. And checking the watermaker topped the list. All appears to be okay, but for some dodgy seals. A quickish job to fix, apparently. 

Tried out the new anchoring system with mixed results. The tipper tips just a little too generously – needs restricting in its angle of movement. The sides of the tipper that guide the chain also need increasing in depth, and a restraining bar that straddles the tipper sides to be installed – both adjustments to stop the anchor chain hopping off the track. Also some alarm that the chain could chafe the undersides of the hulls when the anchor and boat swing out of alignment. (Remember, our anchor is secured beneath the tramps, just forward of the anchor locker – not at the most forward part of the boat). Decided a bridle would solve the chafing risk- but didn’t put to the test – thanks to a little misunderstanding concerning the bridle’s whereabouts … don’t ask!

Also of concern – engine maximum rpm definitely not maximum enough. The recent adjustments to the feathering props haven’t entirely solved the rpm problem, and have reduced the maximum speed considerably. Doug (a man of many and varied talents, bless him) to don wetsuit and diving gear and tweak then test till both props are sweetly tuned. Also, there seems to be a lot of vibration with the engines running – this may be something, or nothing – but for peace of mind, need to get that looked at, too.

The chart plotter is showing the boat pointing 180 degrees in the wrong direction! Sounds alarming, but just a small programming error, easily fixed, we assume. And the AIS alarm far too excitable – but again, something that’s easy to rectify.

Still a few cosmetic jobs that need finishing, but I do mean few. And after Paul’s and the team’s recent administrations, the whole boat looks considerably smarter and in great shape.

But if this snagging list sounds a little negative, it’s really not. Technical shake-downs inevitably focus the attention on malfunctions – which is the whole point of doing these things anyway – but in general, nothing we found today is terribly difficult to fix, or time-consuming to rectify. So little by little, at last it’s all coming good. Well, that’s the theory …

The early bird …

… is just a nutter. One who obviously undervalues the cosiness of the nest. We are not early birds. We are unabashed lie-a-beds – especially on a Saturday morning. But not today. Last night, we set the phone alarms to wake us at 6.00 am so we could get to the Farmers’ Market at Shongweni by 7 a.m. Heard a lot about this weekly event and it was well worth the bleary eyes and grumpy start. A huge field thickly dotted with stalls selling this, that and t’other – including plenty of freshly brewed coffee and cholesterol-rich, heart-attack-in-a-bun breakfasts. But what’s with the dogs? Almost every other person there had brought the family mutt(s). We love dogs of any size and shape, so no complaints – far from it. Hugging a polystyrene mug of cappuccino, squatting on a bale of straw – I found a cold wet nose shoved under my elbow in an enthusiastic hello. A huge Doberman anxious to become my newest bestest friend. Atta boy! Anyway, we left, just as the heavens looked fit to cry their eyes out, clutching a very malodorous cheese and some rather scrumptious home-made coffee liqueur, a present for a friend. A fun morning.

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Good job we decided to leave the next test sail until Monday – weather permitting, because right now, on this grey and blustery Saturday, sailing would be rather energetic, to say the least. An aggressive low is now circling its way along the coast, and has reached Durban and surrounding area. The earlier eerie stillness now gone, replaced by some vicious gusts and serious winds. First day in ages the sun has abandoned us, too.

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Yesterday, arranged for an independent full boat inspection. Something we’ve always planned to do. To buy a boat, new or second-hand, and NOT have a thorough, properly-conducted, independent inspection before taking delivery of her, is just crazy. I guess there will be some circumstances where the build and state of the boat are already known, but even so, we like to sleep easy in our cabins …

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Last Thursday afternoon, we spent a fun couple of hours with Steven and Tracy going through all the goodies FastCats are providing as part of the OCP (ocean crossing package). Back at the factory, there is a room full of the stuff – everything from vacuum cleaner to grab-bag to spare anodes. It is now blindingly clear that Dick and I will have to camp in the rubber duck. Once the OCP stuff is stowed aboard, there will be no room left for us or our personal belongings. This live-aboard lark is going to require some serious re-evaluation of property!

Would you think …

… me very silly, if I tell you I knew this was going to be a ‘troubling’ day? Probably – Dick does. He sails on less flighty, more prosaic seas than I do, and thank goodness for that. But silly or no, this morning I awoke with the insistent nagging sensation that all was not well. What I didn’t know was that trouble had knocked loudly, not on our door, but on the doors of some very lovely people who deserve much better luck. So some very sad news tonight from two independent, unrelated quarters. The sort of news that makes you count your blessings and realise how bloody lucky you are. The sort of news that punches home that life and fairness really do have nothing in common at all. I’m almost expecting to hear news now of a third source of woe. The superstition of things running in threes, and all that. But two unhappy households are quite enough for one day – so let’s cross everything we’ve got that the ‘three’ thing, is just that – silly superstition. Whatever, we just hope fortune and grace soon smile on those who are going through the mill right now. We’re thinking of you.

And to be thoroughly negative, was also feeling a little angsty about the state of the boat. Last time we saw her, she was smothered in newspaper where the guys had masked her up for a varnish and paint respray – and it wasn’t a pretty sight. In fact, I’ve been more than happy to stay well clear these past few days, preferring to keep busy and productive on other things. But we’d agreed to call by the marina today, to see how thing progressed, and as people of our word – call by we did. But a much happier story to tell here – much, much happier. Paul, who is an ace with all things needing welding, is also ace with a paint and varnish gun. Bless him, he was there to greet us and show us some of his handiwork. And boy, has the boy done good! An absolutely vile job, spraying highly noxious substances, like varnish, in very confined spaces, he’d nevertheless battled through and applied a thoroughly professional finish. Can’t begin to tell you how pleased we are with his results. Here is a guy who takes real pride in his work, and who has the skill and patience to do justice to that pride. He’s certainly made us very much happier customers. Glad to know Paul will be working on the boat till she’s finished. The guy’s a star.

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A little more mozzy-talk. As I said, yesterday, we’re thinking of spending time further north of the African coast where malaria is a real threat. Chatting with Lammert, who has much hard-earned experience in these matters, we’re taking his advice and after using the anti-malaria pharmaceuticals we’ve already purchased, we’ve decided we’ll rely from thereon in on physical protection (Deet, covering up, mozzie nets, smoking coils etc) – and use self-diagnostic kits if and when necessary. These can be used to determine if malaria has been contracted (should you start to feel unwell) and an immediate anti-dote taken to zap it on the nose before it develops. We’ll use up the pills first, because we’ve already got a supply of these, the best anti-malarial variety which deliver the greatest protection with the least side effects, but they cost a small fortune. And however good they are, it just doesn’t seem sense to continually load your system with these drugs. So to that end, Dick saw the good Doc today and got armed with several diagnostic kits and a prescription for the malarial anti-dote. Also on order is a mosquito sleeping tent – for use in the cockpit, more than the cabin, I suspect. Why the cockpit? Because the table there can be lowered to form a bed base with the seating, and covered with a mattress makes for a cooler more comfortable night’s shuteye in tropical climes. Though again, taking Lammert’s advice and having tried if for ourselves when in the BVIs- sleeping on the tramps is possibly the best option.

Hehe … we always said we wanted to escape the rut and routine of suburban life – well, mozzy battles, it seems, are part of the price you pay for that escape.

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Great night out last night, with Lyn and Mike – down at the Swine and Tankard for their curry night special. Lyn and Mike (and daughter Laura) have become wonderful friends. Will be celebrating a family birthday with them this Sunday – looking forward to that very much. Also looking forward to joining them and a party of others for a Moulin Rouge cabaret night at Hillcrest at the end of the month. “Good clean smut” Lyn described it. Right up our street, I’d say. And have made a pact to go see the world renowned Drakensberg Boys Choir – also in Hillcrest later in August. We’d been meaning to make the trip to the mountains to see them, anyway. Now, thanks to good luck, they’re coming to us.

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Tomorrow, off to the new factory to see Steven and confront the mountain of onboard goodies that FastCats are supplying as part of the Ocean Crossing Package. Finding storage room for it all is another matter. But if that’s all we have to contend with … well, we must indeed count ourselves lucky.

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Calling beloved son, JarryBohn! Before I sign off, would you please give your completely stumped pa and muv some much needed ideas for that up and coming birthday of yours??? And ASAP, pretty please!!!

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Okay, that’s me done. So for now, at least -

Take care, have fun, and make it count.

Over …

… and out.

Was going to wax …

… long and lyrical about the exotic birds that frequent this part of the world – they’ve got me spell-bound with their haunting songs and cries. But as ever, more essential and mundane tasks got in the way … buggerit. Instead of bird twitterings, spent the day sewing (yes, again) – Damask bedspreads this time. That and covering buttons to make tie-backs for the curtains. The curtains in the master cabin, I’ve made double to exclude the light better. Tallying things up, I will have made a total of 50 curtain pieces for this boat – and that’s only for the two hulls. To date, I’ve completed 44. Only another 6 to go. Phew … a labour of love or just sheer stupidity? The jury’s out on that one!

Dick, hero that he is, whizzed off to Pietersmartizberg to buy me some more trimmings, since I’d underestimated quantities. A guy who is secure enough to buy lace and satin for his wife and not blush is seriously cool in my book. Pragmatism over egotism – as ever. I stayed behind, nose to the sewing plate … well, something like that.

Dick also spent a considerable fortune stocking up with all the pills and potions prescribed by a lovely local doctor to keep us bouncing healthily along when cruising further afield. Everything from rehydration sachets to epipens. But malaria prevention is not quite so straight forward. We’re keen to explore the east coast of Africa since we’re already in the right vicinity to do so. (Would be a shame not to, after all, especially since Lammert, who is another FastCat customer who knows the area well – has enthused about the unspoilt loveliness of cruising around Kenya.) But these are malaria hotspots and only a fool would fail to take precautions. Despite much Googling and taking advice, we’re still not 100% sure of the best game plan. The bugger is while Dick seems to escape most mozzies’ attentions, I don’t. I get bitten with a vengeance and react very unprettily. Itchy, angry, hot, hard swellings that take days to subside. Perhaps a burkha run up on the sewing machine – elasticated at the ankles and wrists – would confound the little blighters. Or just alarm the neighbours. Since we plan on being around those parts for some time, malaria pills aren’t going to do our systems much good on a long term basis. Hmm. What to do, what to do …?

We gave Butterfly a wide berth this weekend. Wanted to leave the guys to get on with things without us slowing them up. There’s a lot of respraying going on – we do know that. Chiefly the varnish, which needed attention in many areas. Pity the poor guys who had to go in there on Sunday and do the job. A face mask is better than nothing, but far from ideal in such confined spaces.

Forgot to mention last week, we went out briefly on Thursday morning to swing the compass. Unfortunately the compass is designed for the northern hemisphere, so difficult to make it read accurately, here in the south. As a result, it’s a good 10 degrees off – when bearing westerly. Something we’ll just have to remember to take into account when navigating here below the equator. Not ideal, but liveable with, of course.

While out on that trip, we took some of the FastCat staff with us. Most had never been on a boat before – so it was great to watch how they took to it all. Much excitement at first, but a chill breeze whistled through thin overalls and warmer clothing would have been a bonus. We think it’s a good idea for all the factory guys to experience for themselves what all the work’s been for. A boat on chocks is a dead thing; out on the water it becomes a living organism – one that sings and hums and soars and dives, as it rides the wild sea. A love of boats partly comes from that understanding. If you want to make a great boat, how much easier perhaps, if your staff know the thrill of sailing … though Doug would dispute me on that. Doug spent 14 years lovingly preparing a Prout to perfection. But by his own admission, isn’t keen on sailing. Doug’s eye for detail is also something that makes for a great boat. Glad we’ve had him around for some of the work on ours.

Heck, just clocked the time. Dick’s already pushing up big Zzzzzzzzzzs. Time to sign off and wish y’all a peaceful night. Hmm. Guess that bird appreciation piece will have to wait … (relieved sighs all round?).

See ya!

Pure TIA …

… well, we thought so.

To set the scene: We live in interesting times here in Gillitts. During the past week, we have had power stoppages, internet excommunication and the latest – water cessation. Turn the tap on, flush the loo – nothing, nada. Zilch. Most days we have had at least one of these malfunctions, or more commonly, two. But the other day, the heavens were out to vex – and we had all three. No electricity, no water and no Internet. Did we wail and whinge and curse the gods? Nah! Not a bit of it. It brings out the pioneering spirit, after all. It’s just a bit like camping, but in more luxurious style – thanks to Lena and Jack’s excellent hospitality. But stepping out on one of those days without water, for our morning exercise, we were confronted by a scene of purest TIA in all its comical glory.

Despite there being not a drop in the pipes of the local neighbourhood, a few yards down the road and we find a huge pool of water flooding the road. On the bank beside it, a gushing fountain of the wet stuff is bursting enthusiastically skywards from the ground. Parked a few feet away, a Water Authority van houses a dozing driver, soaking up the morning rays. The pool in the road grows, becomes a lake – the driver yawns, beds a little further down. Continuing on our walk, we eventually come to the top of the road where a large party of workers from the same Water Authority are cheerfully labouring away digging up the roadside, presumably doing something interesting, and possibly even beneficial but who are obviously oblivious to the Niagara at the other end of the pipe. The road here is dry. No obvious leak or problems – well, not yet, though they might be working on that. We move on by. Ours is not to reason why. Besides, Lena has a large swimming pool and hot tub – TIA water stoppages or no, at least we shan’t go dirty.

Since we’ve been here – three and a half months – there hasn’t been a day yet when they weren’t poking around at those pipes. Little parties of men in cheerful woolly caps and bright overalls, sit beside a heap of freshly dug earth and scratch their heads and other parts. Some are having breakfast; some are playing cards. Some, on very rare occasions, are even wielding pickaxes. And some are waving flags at the passing traffic. To what end, we know not, since the waving never stops and neither does the traffic. In fact, the ubiquity of the flag-wavers in every working party, no matter what its collective purpose, is something that delights in its singular uselessness. But that’s not to say it doesn’t occasionally charm, too. For every so often, you stumble across a flag-waver who takes his job to heart. Instead of the usual lethargic wrist wagglers of sullen stare and slumped repose, you come across a guy (or gal) who, with verve and rhythm, brandishes a tatty vestige of red fabric with great gusto – accompanied by a flashing smile or a demonic grimace. Move on! Move on! And so we do, laughing and not a little pleased to find ourselves in this strange, magnificent, mad country that is slowly but surely seeping into our affections. God bless the flag-wavers, we say. Somebody’s gotta do it … even if we’re not sure why.

At last! Here’s one of the regular visitors to our neighbourhood captured in pixellated Panasonic tone. It’s a fuzzy snap, not a great photo – and I’m sorry I couldn’t serve you better. But a hastily grabbed snapshot is better than nothing at all. I’ve been trying to catch one of these little rogues since we’ve been here. They roam the gardens and scoot up the trees of suburbia and tease the baying dogs down below. And they’re really very tame. We’ve been able to get up close and personal quite a few times. Man and monkey – eyeballing one another quizzically. But oh boy – the moment I get out my camera and raise it to eye-level, they’re off! Not camera-shy, no, not that – but very wary of any human who lifts a dark object and points it in their direction. Smart little fellas obviously.