Category: Sailing

And I never lose my wallet

“And in my mind
In the far-away here-and-now
I’ve become in-control somehow
And I never lose my wallet

Because I
Will be the picture of discipline
Never fucking-up anything
And I’ll be a good defensive driver…”

In my mind – Amanda Palmer

Yes I have just bought Amanda Palmer’s latest album – and you are probably (quite rightly) wondering what on earth this has to do with sailing.

Well the lyrics to this particular song jumped out at me in so many ways – particularly looking what I’m about to do.

WARNING: The following involves navel-gazing and has nothing to do with the mechanics of sailing – so boat geeks  may wish to tune out now.

Right (rips off bandaid)

I’m turning 30 in couple of months (ouch – that really did hurt quite a bit!)

By the time I turned 30 I was supposed to have my shit together.   I was going to be more organised, I was going to have stopped being scatter-brained and losing things, I was going to be a confident, competent driver, I was going to have my own house and at least 3 cats. I was going to have a sense of direction and stop panicking and swearing when I got stressed. I was going to be a published author, a journalist that made a difference for people who needed it and I would have at least three pairs of matching socks.

I was dangerously close to getting some of that too. I had the journo job, I looked at houses, I forced myself to drive , I learned to use a filing cabinet –  and I wasn’t happy.

“…And in my mind
When I’m old I am beautiful,
Planting tulips and vegetables
Which I will mindfully watch over

Not like me now
I’m so busy with everything
That I don’t look at anything
But I’m sure I’ll look when I am older…”

So I packed it all in and moved to Wellington. I jumped to the dark side from journalism to comms for a teachers’ union (a job I love and hope does make a difference) I pretty much stopped driving (great public transport so no need) and I moved into a rented flat with my cat.

“And it’s funny how I imagined
That I would be that person now
But it does not seem to have happened
Maybe I’ve just forgotten how
To see
That I’ll never be the person that I thought I’d be.”

If we go by my original standards. I’m nowhere near where I am supposed to be right now.

Instead I met a dirty old pirate and am running away to sea with him. I learned how to sail, swim with beautiful creatures underwater and do a lot of other things that scare me. Sometimes when I look at it all it can seem quite overwhelming.

“…And in my mind
I imagine so many things
Things that aren’t really happening
And when they put me in the ground

I’ll start pounding the lid,
Saying, “I haven’t finished yet,
I still have a tattoo to get,
It says, ‘I’m living in the moment'”.

I still have to work on the swearing and panicking when I get stressed, I still lose things and get frustrated with myself when I do. There is so much to organise and learn and do before we go – and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in my life right now.

“…Maybe it isn’t all that funny
That I’ve been fighting all my life
But maybe I have to think it’s funny
If I want to live before I die
And maybe it’s funniest of all
To think I’ll die before I actually
See
That I am exactly the person that I want to be.

Fuck yes.

I am exactly the person that I want to be.”

To me this song says we can drive ourselves nuts with visions of who we should be and how we should act at certain points in our lives, and miss the amazing stuff that’s staring us right in the face.

That, and matching socks are overrated.

Rock on!

The countdown begins

It’s 2011 and it’s official – we are running away to sea in a matter of months.

I am excited, exhilarated and scared out of my mind.

Sorry Mother but this is not a window to try to talk me out of this! 😉 It’s a stock-take of my own capabilities – where I am now and where I need to be in a few months time when Paddy, Wildflower and I take on the briny deep.

This is really happening. I am stopping work, putting my life into storage and disappearing for eight months. It’s one of the biggest, maddest things I have ever done. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s scary – but scary in the most thrilling way!

We spent a fabulous week over New Year’s sailing around the Marlborough Sounds, which gave me the chance to hone my practical skills and work out where my head was at.

But I was faced with my first limitation before we even left the marina. I discovered that –  despite having done two sailing courses – nobody had actually taught me how to throw a sodding rope. Unfortunately trying to tie a boat up alongside a fuelling dock (in full view of  people on the waterfront having coffee in the sun) is not the best time to realize this! Luckily, after a few abortive attempts and a lot of ineffectual arm flailing, a kindly chap managed to catch the end of the rope and help pull us in.

This humiliation necessitated some remedial rope- throwing lessons once we got to the Sounds, and  I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t actually that difficult once I knew the technique (it’s all in the way you coil the rope before you throw it.) Being slightly ambidextrous also made things a bit tricky – but that’s the subject of an entirely different blog!

The Sounds were gorgeous – we chilled out in our favourite spot in Erie Bay where I did a lot of reading, writing, snorkeling (and maybe a teensy bit of wine drinking…) and then headed to one of Paddy’s favourite haunts, Flipper Bay – near Picton.

 

Chilling out at Erie Bay
Flipper Bay bound

On the way to Flipper Bay we did a bit of sailing and I got to practise my boathandling. Unfortunately –  because of  either crap weather or a depressing lack of wind (yes I am aware of the irony of the latter, living in Wellington) – most of the travelling I have done on Wildflower has been under motor. So I have actually had more experience on the little boats I learned in at the Port Nick Yacht Club than I have on the boat I spend half my time living on.

This meant I over-steered, under-steered and sailed us round in circles – which would have been fine if there weren’t so many other boats about! At that point I was getting so flustered that I would go into a blind panic every time another boat approached, despite the fact that I knew all the give way rules and exactly what I should do.

This was around the time that wretched little beast Self Doubt reared its ugly head. “How the hell am I supposed to take this thing around the Pacific when I can’t even get it to go in a straight line?!” The funny thing (and a credit to Paddy’s patience) was that the more I breathed through the frustration and just did it, the easier it became and the more I watched the other boats in the water and worked out where they were going, the less frightened of them I was. By the time we were heading home even the ferries weren’t phasing me.

Flipper Bay is a lovely spot. It’s sheltered, the water is relatively warm and it is surrounded by regenerated native bush. This means you wake up in the morning to a gorgeous chorus of native birds. There are also quite a few jellyfish (not the stingy kind!) about and they are fascinating to watch propelling themselves through the water.

Neighbours at Flipper Bay
Native bush at Flipper Bay
Paddy looking for mussels on the beach
What became of said mussels

Flipper Bay also has tame ducks. These crafty little devils have worked out that if they tap on the side of visiting boats in the mornings for long enough someone will eventually come out and feed them. Paddy once witnessed a mother duck teaching her babies exactly how to do this. We ran into a mother and brood while we were there but I don’t think she was the sharpest tool in the shed because while we were standing on the beach throwing out food for them she decided to swim the troops over to the boat that we were no longer aboard and tap in vain instead.

Mama duck and brood
But you're going the wrong way!
Mama duck's failed attempt to tap food out of Wildflower

We left Flipper Bay for Wellington when we had what looked like a good weather window and we had a gorgeous sail for a good part of the trip. We had a 25 knot northerly pushing us exactly where we wanted to go.

Waiting at the entrance of Tory Channel

Then we reached the south coast of Wellington – and things got a little exciting.

We probably should have reefed the sails in sooner, but we were having such a great trip. Unfortunately this meant we had quite a bit of sail up when we got walloped by the 45knot winds (gusting 50k Paddy says). When the boat started tipping so far on its side I thought we’d be able to converse with passing fish Paddy suggested we should perhaps pull in the sail. I agreed (in a very small voice while clinging to the safety rail with every muscle in my arms.)

A note for the worriers: The boat cannot tip over. It is physically impossible. Because of all the weight in the keel it will only lean so far sideways before righting itself again. Paddy has actually experimented with Wildflower to see how far she will lean (NOT with me aboard I might add!) Secondly, we are attached to the boat at all times by safety harnesses that we can move up and down the boat with.

I handled it fine for the most part (with a few terrified noises and the odd expletive) but there were a couple of gusts that had me praying under my breath. At one point we had a postage stamp sized scrap of sail up but were doing 9 knots (which is apparently faster than the boat is actually supposed to be capable of going) which I think was pretty impressive! In the end though it was nothing the boat couldn’t handle, and that’s what helped me through it. When I saw Paddy calmly steering the boat in the direction we needed to go it really helped.

It was actually really good for me to see that the boat can cope with those conditions easily. The only casualties were the wind indicator at the top of the mast (Paddy says we needed a new one anyway…) and a few books that came out of the bookshelf. Wildflower and skipper did brilliantly and it gave me even more confidence in both.

Besides, apparently it would be very unusual to come across conditions like that in the Pacific (touch wood). They do say if you can learn to sail in Wellington you can sail anywhere!

The northerly stuck around so we had a bit of a sloppy trudge into the harbour using the motor, but at that stage I was so pleased that we weren’t diagonal anymore that it didn’t faze me at all.

So in short (with a few hiccups along the way) this trip has given me more confidence in the boat, the captain and myself. I intend to get out on the water as much as I can before we go –  and to keep learning.

Captain Paddy got us home safe and sound

I passed!!!

Hi all,

Just a quick update (since Dad let the cat out of the bag on my blog about cats on maps)

I PASSED MY BOATMASTERS!!!

I’ve been meaning to let you all know for the past week, but life the universe and everything kept getting in the way.

The written exam went reasonably well (though I made a couple of really silly mistakes that I would have picked up if I had the time to re-read it properly).

I also got a few funny looks when I pulled out my goodluck troll and stuck her on the desk – but she did her job very well, and I am sure they were all just jealous!

The oral exam was hilarious. I arrived there and half the class were sitting around a table filled with chips and beer, swotting up on flashing and beeping things and waiting for their turn.

It was nice that it was that relaxed, but the temptation was to drink the nerves away. I managed to resist this urge and soothed my nerves with potato chips instead. Not so good for the waistline, but much better for the brain!

Basically the oral part of the exam involved sitting down with an examiner and talking through the bits that you stuffed up in the written exam.
Part of the rationale behind this is that some people tend to freak out in written exams, but by sitting down and talking to them you can gauge pretty quickly whether they know their stuff or not. I think it’s a really good way of doing things.

The oral part went well for me and pretty much devolved into a conversation about next year’s Pacific trip. When the examiner pulled out a chart though and started asking me questions I started feeling a bit queasy, but it was Paddy’s love of gadgetry that actually saved my bacon.

While we were looking at the chart and talking about how important they were he asked if we also had GPS. When I told him Paddy had actually installed this other fancypants system called AIS  –  which gives you a whole lot more info than GPS and lets other ships know about you (if you want a more detailed explanation, Google it) –  his eyes lit up and he forgot about the chart entirely!

I must have managed to bluff my way through the rest of it successfully because he passed me quite happily.

So now I just need to get out and practice it all.

It’s a gorgeous day today so we are planning on putting the sails back up on the boat and take her out for a spin.

You’ve got to pick your moments in Wellington when it comes to putting up sails because if the wind performs its usual tricks there is a high likelihood of doing a Mary Poppins number!

Wish us luck 🙂

Avoiding dentists with the wobblies

Paddy once told me about a dentist in Tonga who wouldn’t let being in the advanced stages of Parkinson’s disease prevent him from doing his job. While I respect the man’s determination, it did make me a little nervous, and was one of the reasons behind me deciding to get my wisdom teeth out before we go to the islands.

While the Tongan dentist only charged Paddy’s friend $20 to fix a tooth that was giving him grief, it was a bit of a traumatic process – and the filling fell out after two days. This led to Paddy’s first ever use of an emergency dental kit which he says was a resounding success – after the application of some putty stuff and a shot of serious antibiotics, the patient was right as rain.

Don’t get me wrong, I do admire Paddy’s enthusiasm for amateur dentistry, but I still think I made the right decision getting the ouchy stuff done here, particularly since it was far from straight forward.

Been there, done that, got the t-shirt

I didn’t pick up Dad’s navigation genes but I did inherit his rather difficult teeth – which I think is a pretty bum deal. My wisdom teeth weren’t actually causing me any pain, but when I did check them out I discovered two were badly impacted and slowly creeping sideways towards the nerves that control feeling in my mouth. The other two had roots wrapped around things that roots definitely shouldn’t be wrapped around. So we called in the dental surgeon (thank you health insurance!)

It was the first time I had been under a general anesthetic and I was a teensy bit terrified. It didn’t help that something had held up the works earlier in the day and I several hours to sit in a hospital bed waiting and stewing. Luckily I had Paddy, Cal the good luck troll and (the newest addition to the troll family) Deco the diving troll to keep me company. I was even such a nerd that I tried to distract myself by reading my Boatmaster’s notes.

Before - indulging in some pre-operative troll therapy

The waiting actually turned out to be the hardest part – I only actually remember two things before waking up groggy with a face surrounded by icepack. I remember staring up at a big light shaped like an alien spaceship and watching it get darker and darker. I also remember the anesthetist telling me  there used to be a giraffe hanging from it to distract children – apparently the kids loved it but adults woke up complaining of having terrible dreams about giraffes, so they took it down. I didn’t dream about anything – not  a single solitary giraffe. I felt ripped off.

Next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery asking if I could say thank you to the anesthetist for making everything so quick and painless – only to be told that I already had. Lord knows what else I said in there!

In the spirit of public humiliation, here is the after pic that Paddy so kindly took for me on his celphone.

After - drugs are good mmm-kay?

It has taken a wee while for everything to heal up and one of the holes has been giving me a bit of grief but – through the magic of antibiotics and painkillers – I am feeling heaps better. I don’t look like I have a tennis ball stuffed in my left cheek any more and I am no longer rivalling the cat for the flat’s biggest drooler. I’m still not quite on solids yet, but I’m getting there – and I still think it was a better option than chancing the emergency dental kit!

I’m sorry Dad!

For those of you who don’t know – my Dad was a navigator in the Air Force.

 For those of you who know me well, this fact is hilarious – because I couldn’t navigate my way out of a paper bag with the aid of a GPS.

I’m one of those people that need to drive to a destination at least twice (under the supervision of someone who is not directionally challenged) and preferably walk past it a couple of times to make sure, before admitting I know how to get there. And even then I prefer to have a map just in case.

 

My abysmal sense of direction is somewhat legendary – I’ve gotten lost in teeny tiny one street towns, shopping malls and even some of my friends’ houses. In short, I didn’t inherit the navigation gene. 

 So you can probably hazard a guess at how last night’s navigation lessons went.

 To be fair, the tutor made an heroic effort to get the information through, and in the first hour some of it actually managed to sink in.

Unfortunately the course pretty much starts straight after work and after a while my brain begins to tire and start wandering. By the time he got to the variation between true and magnetic North, it had wandered out the window and was watching the birdies hop around the car park.

They don’t exactly make it easy though. Latitude and Longitude I could handle, but then they took all these perfectly adequate measurement terms and made them mean something else entirely.

So there are 60 minutes in a degree – but minutes in navigation are entirely different to minutes in the real world. Then there is the nautical mile – which just has to be different from your garden variety mile doesn’t it? And don’t even get me started on the two different Norths!

 

Paddy tells me that navigation was deliberately made difficult to stop the rank and file from mutinying and taking over the ship – and I can see why it worked!

I must have looked like I was struggling because the tutor crouched down next to my desk after the session and asked if I was okay with it all. I told him I’d try to work out what I could on my own and then probably come hollaring for help.

I’m sure it will be fine with practice, I just have to get my head to work in a gear that I’m not used to. I feel like I’m back at high school failing miserably to grasp what my maths teacher was trying to tell me. But this time I won’t give up and start writing notes to my classmates or listing David Bowie’s top 10 albums. I’m going to keep trying until I get it.

I know how important it is. It’s rather daunting knowing the a decimal point could be the difference between sailing through clear waters or making friends with a rock, but its also a lot of incentive!

I guess I just find it hard because I don’t like feeling like I can’t do something and it’s been a long time since I have felt that way. I steered my career towards writing because I can do that easily and I guess I’ve subconsciously stayed away from the stuff that makes my brain hurt.

I think I can harness that though – if I don’t like not being able to do something then I guess I just bloody well have to learn how to do it – even if it does take me a little longer to catch on than the rest of the class.

So if you see me thumping a protractor or cursing at a compass, don’t worry – it’s just the learning process!

Starboard stand-on, Port piss off

Is there any red Port left in the bottle?

Starboard stand-on, Port Piss off

If to Starboard red appear, tis your duty to keep clear

I am four weeks into my Boatmasters course (thank you Wellington Coastguard!) and I have ridiculous rhymes and sayings coming out of my ears.

If you see a marker with two black circles on top of each other its a Balls Up to go near it

 

A balls up

 

If someone honks at you five times it mean’s you’ve done something stupid

 

What not to do

 

Having done the Day Skipper course beforehand really helped because it everything wasn’t entirely alien – but there is still so much to remember!

Red lights mean one thing, green and white ones another but unfortunately ‘if it’s lit up light a Christmas tree, keep out of its way’ is not an accepted answer.

 

An ocean-going Christmas tree?

 

I am aware all of this is important – particularly at night and when things are being towed – but I’m a little dubious about the value of some of the information I am memorising. For example –  I do wonder when I will use my newfound knowledge on how to identify a vessel engaged in mine clearance duties.

If Paddy and I end up seeing one of those we’d have to be seriously lost!

 

If we see one of these we have bigger problems that what colour lights its showing!

 

Next week we get stuck into the navigation side of things. I’ve got everything I need – chart, protractor, dividers – except for a sense of direction, so wish me luck!

Starboard stand-on, Port piss off

Is there any red Port left in the bottle?

Starboard stand-on, Port Piss off

If to Starboard red appear, tis your duty to keep clear

I am four weeks into my Boatmasters course (thank you Wellington Coastguard!) and I have ridiculous rhymes and sayings coming out of my ears.

If you see a marker with two black circles on top of each other its a Balls Up to go near it

 

A balls up

 

If someone honks at you five times it mean’s you’ve done something stupid

 

What not to do

 

Having done the Day Skipper course beforehand really helped because it everything wasn’t entirely alien – but there is still so much to remember!

Red lights mean one thing, green and white ones another but unfortunately ‘if it’s lit up light a Christmas tree, keep out of its way’ is not an accepted answer.

 

An ocean-going Christmas tree?

 

I am aware all of this is important – particularly at night and when things are being towed – but I’m a little dubious about the value of some of the information I am memorising. For example –  I do wonder when I will use my newfound knowledge on how to identify a vessel engaged in mine clearance duties.

If Paddy and I end up seeing one of those we’d have to be seriously lost!

 

If we see one of these we have bigger problems that what colour lights its showing!

 

Next week we get stuck into the navigation side of things. I’ve got everything I need – chart, protractor, dividers – except for a sense of direction, so wish me luck!

Stop staring at my bum!

A boat out of water is a sad sight – all awkward and exposed. But it’s a necessary evil to ensure everything is in good shape below the water.

Fish out of water

Living on a boat out of water can be a little unnerving as well – particularly when it’s windy. Being several feet up in the air and swaying from side to side when you are nowhere near the ocean just feels wrong, as does climbing down a ladder to go to work in the morning!

Our longest stint out of the water was a few months ago while Wildflower’s decks were being repainted. We became temporary residents of the Evans Bay yacht club, and for several weeks the sounds of lapping water and ducks were replaced by passing traffic and power tools as people worked on their boats.

Paddy and I had a great time at the yacht club, with the locals embracing us as one of their own – but spending so much time so close to the bar probably didn’t do our livers any good (these guys drink rum and coke by the jug!)

Again, boat life forced me to sort out my coordination issues as I mastered the art of clambering up and down a ladder with any combination of handbag, gym gear and laptop.

Don't look dooown...

Paddy once had the frightening experience of being up out of the water during an earthquake – an experience he says he would rather not repeat! I had my own brush with an out-of-water natural disaster –  it turned out to be a false alarm, but it was still pretty exciting.

While we were parked up at Evans Bay, on the day I was due to sit the theory part of my practical boating course, Paddy and I were woken up by a banging on the side of the boat. It was the club manager telling us to clear out because a tsunami was due to hit in 25 minutes. In autopilot I threw some clothes on, grabbed Bilgey the (stuffed toy) ship’s cat and jumped into the car. We headed up Mt Victoria (and discovered half of Wellington had had the same idea) and waited…and waited…. and nothing happened, not even a little splash. Which was a good thing of course, but I did end up missing my test (everyone else had ignored the tsunami warning and turned up anyway.)  Luckily I was able to sit it in an empty office. I managed to pass but I did make a couple of really stupid mistakes that I blame squarely on my brain being frazzled by the early morning excitement!

While it was fun being honorary members at Evans Bay, it was an enormous relief to be back in the water. I swear I heard Wildflower sigh with pleasure when she was finally lowered back in. The process of getting her back in the water was quite fascinating, involving what appeared (to me at least) to be a giant mutant tractor. It was quite a process and I have included some pics below for those who are interested.

Taking the boat for a walk
Giant mutant tractor
And I thought reversing the car was scary!
Bombs away!
He made it look easy!
Bye bye Evans Bay

PS – please don’t tell Wildflower I put photos of her bottom on the internet – I kinda want to stay on her good side!

The price of safety – or why our govt should walk the plank

For the non-boaties:

The Boatmasters certificate isn’t like a drivers’ licence, you don’t have to have it -but for someone learning the ropes it’s pretty important. It teaches you things like navigation, the rules of the ‘road’, and how to generally keep yourself and your crew safe. It’s something you would hope newbie boaties would be encouraged to get, so it’s pretty surprising that for many New Zealanders it can cost up to $500.

For the non-Kiwis:

Last year our government, in its wisdom, decided to cut adult community education funding by 80%, meaning that thousands of courses that used to be done as secondary school-based night classes have either had to be axed or their prices ramped up to cover costs.

People lost the opportunity to upskill affordably and potentially life-saving courses like boat safety have suffered.

I’m not just getting upset because it could cost me a bit more, I’ll save up and pay what I need to – as far as I’m concerned the price won’t be money, it will be lives.

New Zealand does not have a great maritime safety record. Time and time again tragic accidents have proved to have been entirely preventable if only basic safety procedures had been undertaken. And yes, you could argue that there are some muppets out there who would never bother learning anyway – but, with a record like we have – why would you want to make it more difficult for those who actually want to?

So I’ve had a bit of a nightmare trying to find somewhere that runs the course for a reasonable price, though it looks like the wonderful Wellington Coast Guard will come to my aid – will keep you posted!

It would be cheaper to buy the materials myself and self-study, but with my slight navigational challenges I think the personal touch will be needed!

Back to my original point though, if even one life is lost because someone couldn’t afford to learn how to keep themselves safe then this government has blood on its hands.

Time to consign this lot to the briny deeps methinks!

It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it

There's a fridge under here - honest!

Someone once described cruising as “the art of boat maintenance in exotic locations” – and I am in absolutely no doubt this is true. But what they fail to mention is the large amount of work that needs to be done before setting out for more tropical climes.

Evidence of this is The List – a document Paddy uses to keep track of what needs to be done before hitting the waves. Ever since I have known Paddy The List has been shrinking and growing – as quickly as items were ticked off, more were added, but finally now it seems to be on a downward trend.

One of the biggest jobs to be crossed off  The List involved more dust and mess than I had seen in all the grotty student flats I have lived in put together – and that’s saying something!

Sanding and repainting a boat’s bilges is a once-every-10-years job, and unfortunately Wildflower’s 10 years were up.

Before I met Wildflower I didn’t really know what a bilge was. Through pirate insults like ‘scurvy bilge rat’  I’d kind of figured it was something sewer-like and gross, but that was the extent of my knowledge.

The bilge is actually the inside of the bottom of the boat –  (“the lowest compartment inside the hull of a ship” according to fount of all knowledge that is Wikipedia). It’s where water that overflows from the decks of the ship collects. When there is too much water sloshing about on deck (say during a storm) to make it safe to walk on, the boat is designed to funnel this water to the bottom where it can be sucked out by bilge pumps (this is a very amateur summary so feel free to correct me!)

The scurvy bilge rat insult stemmed from the fact that, along with water, bird poo, food scraps, and bodily waste from dirty sailors of old, also ended up in the bilges – so it really wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Before mechanisation bilges used to have to be pumped by hand and this rather disgusting job was reserved for junior sailors or those that had managed to upset the captain.

So the bilge is actually a pretty important part of the boat – and because bilge water can get quite acidic and generally grotty, it’s important to have a good layer of paint on the bottom to prevent it from eating through.

While this sounds relatively simple, the 10 year repaint actually involves ripping up the floor of the boat, sandblasting what is underneath to within an inch of its life and twisting your body into all sorts of unnatural positions (a practice Paddy has dubbed Boat Yoga) in order to repaint it.

The sandblasting process involved many long nights and weekends and rendered the boat uninhabitable. Paddy ended up living in a backpackers near the marina (aka the Roach Motel) so he could come and go from the boat during whatever insane hours he needed to. The result was more dirt and dust than I actually thought existed in the world.

While I was more hindrance than help with the sandblasting, I really wanted to be able to do something to help Paddy so I embarked on the biggest cleaning expedition of my entire life. While Paddy was playing contortionist with a paintbrush I turned my hair, clothing and skin grey attacking the dust. For a while it was exceedingly frustrating because for every layer of dust I removed a new ones seemed to appear overnight. But it was an incredibly fulfilling feeling when surfaces began to reappear again. It also makes me feel a lot safer knowing exactly what is at the bottom of the boat and that it’s clean and shiny and newly painted.

I am pleased that particular hurdle is over though – Paddy pretty much exhausted himself – but with a stubborn and determined streak a mile wide, he wasn’t going to slow down until the job was done. I’m sure Wildflower appreciates it though – I know I do.

Emerging from the dusty depths
The galley - before
The galley after
The cleaning lady
Bilge undercoat
boat yoga