Fine but fickle …

… that’s the rub.

Alas, the weather window that looked so promising for Friday/Saturday has now vamooshed. A sneaky little low is creeping around the SA coast and is messing up our sailing plans. But here in sun-drenched Durban, you’d never know it.  In fact, to all intents and purposes, you’d be hard-pressed to find a nicer day to set sail. The only thing giving the lie to all this benevolent, innocent-looking sunny clime is the falling barometer. Ah, such treachery the fickle heavens weave!

Nor is there any chance of leaving before the weekend is out. Not to fret, we made good use of our extended wait here by doing a major shop and stocking up on provisions. Then while the tide was out, motored over and gently beached on a sandbank so Dick could adjust the props’ pitch.  They’re much the better for it – though possibly a tad underpitched; it’s extremely negligible, but given we have time now, we may have another final tweak tomorrow. Of course, we’d have had to do all this anyway had we been able to flee Durban, but it would have been far more à la mucky rush.

Soooo …. time a-plenty to scrape away and halt the persistent march of Durban dust and dirt. And if the playful breeze would abate a little more, to carefully blast the mainsail with a little hi-pressure H2O. But it must be said, virtuous though this scrub and scrape activity is – sailing out of Durban would have been infinitely more fun!

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“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Mark Twain. (1835-1910)

Visa schmisa …

… pah! How fast time flies when you’re waiting for a boat to be completed.

Yet again, our three month visas are about to expire. We have now had three of these, and will need a fourth to tide us over before we leave South Africa for good. Gideon told us quite confidently that we didn’t need to go to all the palaver of applying for an extension via the usual channels, but because we are mariners, could get things arranged fast track style. Not so – as we’ve learned to our cost.  Immigration in Durban were resolute – no quick fixes.  But we only discovered this with time running out, so we’ve had to act fast.  On Monday night, we reached the decision to hotfoot it to Capetown and apply for a set of visa extensions there, then shoot back to Durban ready to sail away on Friday, weather permitting of course. The reasoning was that by the time our visa extension paperwork came through in a couple of weeks, we would probably be in Capetown ready to collect it.

Yesterday, after some lightning phone work the night before, we flew into Capetown and arrived midday in brilliant sunshine and the fairest of lively breezes. Oh, how I love Capetown! So, too, Dick. But for us, this time, no time to leisurely stroll in the sunshine, and take in the views of Table Mountain – instead, it was a mad dash straight to Home Affairs in the heart of the city.  After two hours trying to queue – the crush of desperate people defied neat orderly lines – we eventually emerged as they were about to shut up shop, with a set of forms to be filled in. So back to the guest house – the immaculate, quiet, sanity of the Underberg,  with its lovely sash windows and gentle light, and lovingly stacked bookcases on every floor – to fill those unlovely forms in and ensure we had the necessary supporting documentation officialdom required.

With much help from Tracey, we eventually had it all together – but only by the skin of our teeth at 7.15 am today, minutes before we must leave to return to Home Affairs and submit our applications.  This time, back in the chipped-paint, down-at-heel  confines of the Home Affairs building, we found ourselves in a vague seated queue and for an hour or so, a sense of order and organisation prevailed. A terse, but not unhelpful chap behind the counter eventually took pity on us, and instead of the usual ten days wait to process our paperwork,  he gruffly agreed to try turning it around that same day.  We returned to the back of the  rapidly unravelling queue and settled down to wait. And wait. And wait …

Twice, our hopes were raised when our name was called,  only to discover some faceless body tucked away in another room, now required yet further pieces of paper to corroborate our claims.  More urgent phone calls to Tracey,  who again came up trumps, faxing the required information through direct to those who demanded it. And then, just as we resigned ourselves to another three hours or more waiting, somebody in uniform bellowed MEREDITH! loudly and the welcome sight of our passports, clutched in a plump black fist sent our spirits soaring.  By now, the room was heaving, a heavy fug of body odour and cheap perfume filling the air. A thick jostling crush of bodies shuffled and nudged and muttered in agitation, obliterating any view of the scratched and greasy counter.  The weary and defeated and resigned settled instead for slumping in chairs if they were lucky; on the floor with backs against the wall if they were not. But we were the truly blessed now – our business had been satisfactorily concluded, so out in to the sunshine once more. And with a full 24 hours till our return flight to Durban,  we were free to enjoy the bright and breezy ambience of Capetown without a care.

There is a wonderful eatery – the name of which I never bothered to note – down by the  V&A Waterfront, that serves the best chocolate milkshake out.  It also does one very mean avocado and Haloumi and prawn salad.  The views are great, the tables clean and a small but energetic gathering of tiny birds sweep up the crumbs that fall to the ground. It’s a highly efficient arrangement all round. Visas renewed, hunger assuaged by a handsome bite, and entertainment provided by some excellent limbo dancers and gymnasts – we relished the moment to the full.

After lunch, we shot off to meet Richard from Southern Spars to discuss bowsprits and other rigging matters. Kindly, he offered to show us around the factory and we didn’t say no.  An enjoyable, informative and productive hour or so. Thank you Richard!

Tomorrow we fly back to Durban where Ian and Ibby will be waiting, having baby-sat Butterfly during our absence.  But we will have much to do and not much time to do it in, if the weather forecast sticks to its current promise. For Friday looks good for our departure – and oh, boy, do we hope that is the case! If ever there was an understatement, it’s that we are more than ready to leave Durban now, and have been in spirit for many a long month.

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Forgetting all things boaty for a moment, I have just learned  John Updike, a favourite author of mine,  died yesterday of cancer. He was 76.  His Rabbit novels are probably among the best fiction I have been privileged enough to read.  A copy of each and every one of these four books is safely stowed aboard Butterfly. There are some  things no home – be it house or tent or boat -  should be without. For me, John Updike’s  sublimely written, unique but intensely credible creation,  Harry Angstrom – ‘Rabbit’-  is one of them.

Come close …

… gentle reader, and allow me to whisper words of wondrous cheer in your shell-like:  We have a brand new watermaker – and hey,  it works! Woo-hoo!  Whatever ailed the old one, it does seem to have been very much a fault with the unit itself, rather than faulty installation, because the new one was up and running today, nice and smoothly from the off.  So today, a humungous cheer and wide smiles all round. But I am forgetting my manners here and must give credit where it is due:  for our newfound happiness is only thanks to the efforts of Gideon for taking no chances with the old one coming good, and ordering the new one in readiness, Tracey for her sterling work chivvying the delivery company, and Doug for giving up his Saturday afternoon (without being asked) to set it up and get it running.

After the chaos and madness of yesterday which at its most shambolic saw most of the port hull floor submerged in diesel, today was an oasis of benign calm, cheering developments, and a much needed tonic. In fact, today was darn right therapeutic. After a brisk trip to stock up on groceries and renew the rental car for another week, Ian, Ibby, Dick, myself and Doug took Butterfly out for a sail to put the new watermaker through its paces. Doug bought his fishing line and Dick trawled one too.  As soon as we were out in the bay far enough to have clean water, Doug started up the Aquabase and within minutes we had sweet pure water dribbling happily from the galley tap.

As if to celebrate with us, at that moment, a huge pod of dolphins came into view and the water was speckled with their dorsal fins rising and falling beneath the waves.  I’ve never seen so many gathered together before.  They weren’t the slightest bit interested in us, but nevertheless, we managed to get close enough to eyeball them as they eyeballed us.

After 30 minutes or so, happily convinced the Aquabase really was fully functional, we headed back.

Next on the list, to check the diesel tank fitting repairs in the starboard locker. A messy job filling the tank again and pressure testing it – but … not a whiff of a leak anywhere.  Despite the rather sullen skies, the day was looking decidedly brighter by the minute. A minor heart-stopper when we found a small diesel spillage in the lockers behind the saloon seats, but not a drop could be coaxed from any of the valve fittings once we’d mopped it up. Try as we might, we couldn’t get another spill from anywhere, so can only assume it was a left-over dribble from all the antics of yesterday.

As for the water tank UV light lid that has resisted so many attempts to repair it, Kyle and Steven worked late into the evening yesterday trying to solve it once and for all.  Tomorrow we’ll test it again to be sure it’s a winner this time.

Doug, who is an unsung hero as far as we’re concerned, has even volunteered to help us pitch the props again on Monday.  It’s a boring, thankless task and not for the faint-hearted in Durban’s cessy waters, but there is nowhere else around for miles this can be done in cleaner sea.

Tonight, as you can probably imagine, spirits are definitely up.  Thanks to AfricanCats determined push to resolve the latest crop of outstanding issues, we’re tentatively back to weather watching now. Nothing on the horizon too promising as I type this tonight, but traditionally, we’re into the best time for rounding the cape. All very oooo-er and excitipating, I can tell you.

My goodness, it really is true: what a difference a day makes … !

Taking Five …

… here, from boat woes and worries. Just want to send some lovely people our bestest of wishes. Soooo …

Many happy returns – yes, have some more, why not indeedy! – Mike and Johnny – a bit previous, I know, but hope you both said hello to The Case Is Altered to enjoy a celebratory liquid lunch!

Many happy returns Sam, too – you probably said hello to a rather more youthful bevvy establishment – or two – or three, your liver being somewhat newer, and your enthusiasm not being tempered by bitter experience as yet! Hope it was a good ‘un, kiddo.

Many, many best wishes and safe travels to Frank and Martha – our very good friends in Madeira, who are living aboard FastCat Hull No. 3 African Seawing. Frank and Martha have just announced they’ll be sailing for Tenerife, their first long passage together,  heading out this Sunday coming. You can follow their blog and journey here. Frank and Martha are Belgian, but include an English translation beneath each new post. Bon Voyage, amigos!

And best wishes to all of you who take the time and trouble to write to us, whether here on the blog or in private – you’re a kind bunch and we appreciate your support hugely.

As for today – crazy doesn’t even begin to describe it.  The Mad Hatters Tea Party with diesel leak tea and Sika sandwiches thrown in.  All we need now is a grinning Cheshire Cat and a rabbit declaring it’s late. Neither of which would surprise us in the slightest any more.

Oil and water …

… don’t mix. Everybody knows that – but yesterday and today, there was a fair amount of both sloshing around both inside and outside  the boat.  Alas, the cockpit is also full of diesel – though thankfully in gerry cans.   It’s not a pretty sight – more like diesel bedlam. Why? Because the new diesel tank lid repairs may have held good (we’re not entirely sure), but one of the connecting pipes between the two starboard tanks is now dribbling. A faulty connection.

As for the water – yet another two leaks  discovered  yesterday. They were treated but again we find them leaking afresh today. Namely, the new port UV light lid seal in the starboard port water tank,  failed for the second time running – yesterday it was a slow steady seepage; today it ran considerably faster – but in a different place.  It gets worse: a leak in one of the water tank breather pipes gushed free yesterday – was treated by the afternoon – only to gush with gay abandon today.   If we try to see the bright side, then I guess with all the rinsing and mopping up, we must have the squeakiest cleanest bilges out, even if the four of us are somewhat weary and are now left with a suitable pile of diesel-whiffy laundry.

After all the mopping up games were over, the four of us collapsed with a strong cuppa and took stock.  Ten days ago, when Ibby and Ian joined us aboard Butterfly, we had two leaks and a faulty watermaker. Ten days later we have three leaks and no watermaker.  Well, that’s  progress for you.

Speaking of watermakers, the latest word is that the new one is still in transit to Durban.  Tracey,  who we know is trying her best to help sort things out, has been madly pushing the delivery company to rush it here, but only tomorrow will tell if her efforts have paid off.

Meanwhile, Ian and Ibby’s schedule is now running seriously behind and they have another delivery that is in danger of being compromised.  With every unsuccessful leak repair – and we’ve begun to lose count of them now – everybody’s arrangements are getting royally screwed.  We even thought of repairing the leaks ourselves, but if we do, then should there be any issues later, our warranty will be worth nothing.

As I type this, a vicious low has just blown in – literally.  The speed with which these things arrive is truly amazing. So tonight, picture a very dishevelled Butterfly, skittering in the slapping wavelets; aboard her, four tired folk wondering how on earth we bring an end to this frustrating litany of leaks, and a waylaid watermaker.

Time for an early night. Sleep tight, sleep safe, folks.

My fault …

… for tempting fate, I guess.  To talk brazenly of only the watermaker holding us back now, was surely asking for trouble. And sure enough, trouble didn’t take long to raise its ugly head.

Today, anxious to get everything as ready as possible, we motored over to the fuelling dock and filled with diesel to the top. If we’re being honest, it wasn’t only to prepare for departure. For despite assurances that the new diesel tank lids, specially made on the advice of our surveyor, had been fully checked and couldn’t/wouldn’t  leak – we weren’t entirely confident.  Time and again, we’ve found the only real assurance is to put everything to the test for ourselves and prove the point one way or the other.  But there have been so many other issues to distract us, this one got overlooked for a while. So today, we decided to check them out and not leave it one moment later. A quick job to fill up, and once back at our mooring, we eagerly checked everything out and found, with sinking hearts, a slow but steady seeping from one of the starboard diesel lids.  One suggestion was the problem has been caused by diesel-compatible sealant being applied, then a stainless steel lid fitted and tightly screwed down, before the sealant had a chance to cure.  Doing so probably pushes the sealant outwards so making it thinner – and less likely to provide a tight seal. If allowed to cure, then it will act as a gasket with no thickness lost.  Well, that’s the theory.  At all events, much urgent phone-work all round to ensure measures are taken to remedy the problem toute suite.

No sign of the new watermaker – though some talk of it in transit to Durban.  Talk is fine, but TIA means nothing can be taken for granted. Fingers knotted it shows up tomorrow.

Ian and Dick checked both engines over thoroughly – all looking good. Also, tested that we have the facility to start the engines off the house batteries in case of engine battery failure. All good there, too.

Colin, bless him, called by today to share a beer (Colin runs a sailing school here in Durban), and offered to lend us a hi-pressure hose unit to douse the mainsail – it’s filthy already, a tired looking thing thanks to Durban dirt’s sooty-black, glue-like properties.  I know I’ve mentioned this wretched phenomenon many times, but it’s a real downer. It pours from the sky, floats on the breeze and no amount of scrubbing and cleaning ever banishes it for more than a few minutes. What it does to the lungs just doesn’t bear thinking about.

Other than that, much buggering about, as always with boats – a trip to the laundrette, again in readiness for sailing, and inevitably much scrutiny of weather charts and forecasts and synoptics. And all the while, all too aware that today would indeed have been a fine day to slip the mooring and head for St Francis -  safely and with an easy day’s sailing guaranteed tomorrow. Of course, outwardly, everybody is being terribly philosophical about it- what else can you do? – but  underneath, I don’t think there’s one of us – Dick, I, Ibby and Ian – who aren’t silently chewing over the frustrations of  it all and wondering how many other weather windows will come and go before we can finally set sail,  leaks and bloody watermakers permitting.

Heigh-ho. One day. One  fine day …

Water, water everywhere …

… and not a drop to drink. Not entirely true in our case, but what is true, the watermaker is the only thing now keeping us from sailing away from Durban.  Things have moved on a-pace this past week and item by item, the snag list has been decimated: new cabin doors fitted; new water tank UV lids made and fitted; dishwasher repaired; fridge/freezer re-gassed and up and running; heads sorted; *windgenny fixed (if you ignore the fact the control plate needs replacing); solar panels wired direct to batteries; watermaker cabinet modified to allow removal and insertion of the unit (originally, FastCats had built the cabinet around the watermaker – but made no allowance for ever removing it); and a host of other minor fixes.  Now, all that really remains of any importance, is to get the wretched watermaker sussed.  To date it’s had all sorts of tweaks and twiddles effected, but none that result in a nice constant production of drinkable water. The latest wheeze, replacing the membrane, was equally ineffective.  Sure, the thing works fine for 5 minutes or so, but soon after that  it begins to pulse and only manages an on-off squirt with warning lights still a-flashing as before. Doug and Kyle have temporarily drawn a blank, as has everybody else, it seems – so  time, we think, to call in the local watermaker guru.  We understand Gideon has ordered another watermaker just in case, but not sure  when this might arrive.

The only other item we really want to sort is the pitch of the props – they’re not that bad, but not entirely right either. Easy enough to do, but not in the marina where the water is so polluted and contaminated, it’s more akin to a cesspool.

As of  12th January, Ibby and Ian are living aboard with us. They’re going to keep us company to Capetown and later on the transatlantic haul to Brazil – or the Caribbean – whichever gets our vote. We haven’t entirely made our minds up about which destination to choose yet, but Brazil is definitely the favourite as things stand at present.  For lovely, tried and tested, as the Caribbean is, we’ve already sailed there and would prefer waters anew – and those less touristy and commercial.

Funny how used, we are now, to living with making decisions on the hoof – and how used, too, to changing those decisions as the status quo changes. Yesterday, in the belief that the new membrane might well have sorted our watermaker woes, all the talk was of weather windows and possible departures from dirty old Durban sometime midday this coming Tuesday (20th Jan). Even this morning, much chatter about high pressure systems and local lows and bets being hedged whether our leaving Tuesday, the window would allow us any further than East London. But two hours later, after yet another watermaker test sail,  all bets are off:  Tuesday is no longer a contender. No watermaker: no imminent departure.

So we wait some more … and instead of filing flight plans, make do instead with chalking up other tests and checks. For we’ve learned our lesson well: that which worked last week, doens’t necessarily want to play ball this week. And so it goes.  There is, however, one very excellent benefit to all these delays and the long, drawn out wait – and that is a boat that is gradually getting fitter, safer and far more functional than it would otherwise have been, and at last, with fewer flaws than many new boats that leave the yard. The downside is that in reality, ours in no longer a new boat – this will be its ninth month on the water, exposed to all the elements, many components already having seen several months’ service.  The paintwork in places is already in need of some tender touching up – which it will get, and at our own hands, lovingly applied. But only when we leave dirt-encrusted Durbs. So what we have, really, is a nearly-new boat then. Which certainly wasn’t what we signed up for, but then much of what we’ve been through out here in Durban wasn’t in the contract either.  The bottom line, however, is that we have far more confidence in the boat now – and with all the testing and retesting, and bit-by-bit elimination of snags, it’s a confidence that is, it appears, well-placed.    So now to get that watermaker fixed and with a decent weather window, we can begin our adventure in earnest …

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* The wind genny saga – for that’s how it developed -  is a story for another day. It is not, however, one we are likely to forget – so  stay tuned.

It’s late, it’s hot …

… and I’m typing this in a saloon that looks a little trashed right now.  Living on the boat with repairs going on around us is the very thing we tried so hard to avoid. Anyway, that’s the way it has to be, so grumble not, Karenski gal, and just bloody get on with it.

So – what’s happening? Well …

• The guys have carted off the galley fridge – yes it was a gas leak. Steven says they’ve repaired it now and it will be returned for re-installing tomorrow. Hope so – the chest freezer we’re using should be able to switch to fridge mode, but it still freezes things somewhat even on the lowest setting.  No worries, frozen yoghurt and mushrooms aren’t a hardship. But it’s played havoc with Dick’s beer supply which now comes with ice rocks inside the bottle -those that haven’t blown their tops.

• All the saloon padded seats are piled up in the starboard cabin, as access is needed to the electrics in the cupboards below those seats.  The problem being some recent rewiring work has actually taken us backwards – resulting in crazy or intermittent battery readings.  Some talk today of the solar panels being wired in wrongly, too.  A new one on us.  Have to see wait and see what Ken and Charles make of things when they arrive tomorrow.

• The windgenny blades are stowed beneath the table at my feet. The genny, to put it mildly, appears to be right royally buggered.  Charles and Kyle have tested it according to the manual and it didn’t so much throw a hissy fit as just ignore them. Thumbed a snook and insisted on just doing its own crazy thing. More head-scratching for Ken and Charles.

• The saloon table modification appears to be a success. It was catching on the hinges of the freezer-cum-seat when lowered to make a bed with the surrounding seats (other FastCat buyers will know what I mean; apologies for baffling other readers)  – and now it doesn’t, thanks to David and Matt’s attentions. They’ve carefully chiselled little grooves out of the table surround to fix the problem and managed the impossible by making these look attractive! Oh well done, chaps!

• The paddle holders on the rubber ducky have been added. There were some already fitted but if used,  the paddles would have faced the wrong way! (Somebody around here has obviously never discovered the joys of rowing).  Mind you, that’s probably truer than it seems – when we were first shown the duck, we found the oarlocks had been put on the wrong way.  Now titter ye not – rowing facing forwards could be fun – hopelessly inefficient, yes, of course … but you can’t have everything.

• Doug has fixed the missing seal in the port blackwater pump.  Now it’s up and running with the best of ‘em. Sadly we’ve just discovered – like an hour ago – that the starboard head is now weeping seawater into the head itself. So one snag off the list and a new one added. But good news of sorts – at least it appears there’s a valve there in the first place, even if it’s a crap one (boom boom).  Sorry.

• The leaking watertank lids – the ones with UV light fitments (to kill the bugs) – have been seakered in (I have no idea of how to spell that word – SEEKA, perhaps? But as a friend of ours quipped, without it, the entire SA boat building production would probably go bust). Anyway, here’s hoping that it does the trick and we can cross those leaks off the list. But we’ve learned our lessons well, these past months – so Dick and I will do another full test programme on all the water tank lids later this week. We couldn’t earlier, because there was no water supply over the recent weekend.

• The dishwasher is still here while answers from Smeg are awaited – but not for long we hope. If nothing heard by the end of this week, then Plan B must come into operation. (That or I don the Marigolds and demand a refund. That dishwasher was a scandalous price for what it is.)

• There was a final point I added here  – a rather impassioned and scathing rant about the benefits of transparency and honesty and the foolishness and shortsightedness of treating your customers like mushrooms (feed them on sh*t and keep them in the dark) – but I’ve changed my mind. For now I’ll save it.

So dear reader,  that is the state of play tonight.

From humid, thundery Durban, amidst the wastelands of an unravelling, shambolic Butterfly,  shall bid y’all a peaceful, tidy, orderly goodnight – right now, I envy yers!