English Harbour, Mucking About in Boats

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

There is nothing quite so much fun as mucking about in boats...

Arnold moved his Morgan Out Islander 41 over to the crane this morning to have his engine put back in. I noticed a lot of RIBs congregating around the boat, anchored near us since we moved closer in yesterday, pushing and pulling to move the boat over to the slipway.

Into Boffo I leapt, hoping to be of use, and found myself pushing a little here and moving an anchored boat out of the way there, but not really in the middle of the action. Arnold had all his old salt (fart) friends helping. I didn't realise she had no steering as well as no engine, so the whole operation was really quite interesting. We managed to avoid the boats anchored close by and headed off down the roadstead, towards the slipway dock. Boffo played safety.

As we approached the dock, the cry went up, 'There's a dinghy on the dock!', and finally the spare was required and off Boffo sped to remedy the dire situation. As we brought the Morgan in, she needed a really good push from the starboard quarter, and Boffo was able to muscle in on the situation for the docking maneuver. 'Push hard', came the cry from the helmsman, who had no helm to push, and Boffo pushed with great heart and soul.

Once safely tied up, I said goodbye to Arnold and promised help again later should he need to push the Morgan into the weeds for her summer layup. I enjoyed the thumbs up salutes as Boffo made her way proudly back to Django in time for beer o'clock and a delicious lunch of cold barbecued chicken. I saw them all later on, pushing and pulling off towards the mangroves, an easier job than getting her up against the dock. RIBs (Rubber Inflatable Boats), of which Boffo is a good example, make very good tugs and pushers, and there really is nothing more fun than mucking about in boats.

This afternoon, Alicia discovered that Ben has finally had the bun, has decamped, has said the final goodbye. She is very upset. The emotions aboard Django are sharp and grieving. I found guitar practice to be quite a different experience, the emotional weight pushing aside my normal reticence and fear of error. The music was sure and poignant. She regrets so much, sees the errors of her ways, but alas, it is too late, the bird has flown, the horse bolted, and no good to shut the barn door now. Tomorrow she leaves for the arduous two day journey to Bermuda. All of us aboard Django, Boffo, Lady and Tramp, and of course, myself, wish her well and pray for an early recovery of spirits. She has determined to be readmitted to the garden, with plans for her own plantings once ashore in that other world, Bermuda.

I will be on my own soon, and have plans of my own. Mostly cleaning, laundry, oil, ATF and cooling fluid replacement, as well as layup of the running rig and boats. I have a good idea for hauling up the kayaks underneath the netting forward, up close in to the mangroves where the hurricane wind does not blow. Boffo will be strapped down on deck, I think.

Terry will be on hand to help when we bring Django into the weeds. I do prefer this to the waterless world of Spice Island Marina we experienced last year, not only because it will cost me a good deal less money, but because even if Antigua takes a direct hit, Django will be safe in the mangroves, and will have good care at a very reasonable cost. She is in so much better shape than she was a year ago, and I am on a slow roll of continual improvement.

The hatch seals and props are next.