Django in the Weeds

Sunday, April 5, 2009

This morning Terry called on channel 68. Meet him at the bar at 10 to plan the move to the mangroves. He will go in his dinghy and I will bring Django around, dropping an anchor off the port quarter as I come in. He will hand me a line from the weeds and we will get another stern line onto my Beneteau 473 neighbour until a starbord stern anchor can be set later.

Django performs well and slides into her place without embarassment.

The day has been spent in more hard labour, seemingly never ending. The two kayaks, Lady and Tramp, are face to face across the trampoline, one under, one over, hopefully secure from a 120 knot hurricane blast. The two anchors and four lines ashore have been adjusted and readjusted until just right. Chafing gear has been attached to the lines.

I tested a system for lifting Boffo up onto the foredeck, where she will be strapped down hard tomorrow, after all the last errands have been run. That is the last chore before calling the water taxi for a ride to shore.

The mosquitos and noseeums are pretty vicious here by the shore. The little finches come into the boat and eat the melon seeds from my yuck bucket. It is interesting how a slight change in position produces an entirely different environment. It is a good thing I am off tomorrow.

Terry and his wife live year round tied up up to the mangroves. How do they do it?

A hint on the curry thing and a prize for the correct answer: tonight's dinner is a medley of things not yet eaten. When I began, I did not know how I would end up. The ingredients were

pasta, not enough, so not used. (the original thought was to have pasta for dinner)
left over rice with lentils.
one small bit of christophine
one egg
one half a very hot red pepper,
one half onion,
one half clove garlic,
a bit of cabage,
one tablespoon coconut milk,
some peanut oil,
some garlic sausage from Guadelupe.
curry powder,
black pepper,
soy sauce.

Dinner was very good, as usual. If you know the answer to the question not asked, post a comment.

Its sayonara to English Harbour, I suspect until the fall. May the bugs not keep me awake all night.

P.S.

The Artist has arrived safely in Bermuda, and professes not to be concerned with Ben any more. There is another man on the horizon, although he may be a bit young, she says.