After several days in a row when it seemed there was nothing
for me to do we have started rigging. Well, HS has started rigging. But I get
to help. I am actually doing something useful. Yes!
We are replacing the stays, the wires that run from the deck
up to the middle or the top of the mast and hold it steady. There are LOTS of
them and on a good day we can replace one or two. I love it. The work goes sort
of like this; we undo one of the stays from the deck, I haul HS up to the top
of the mast, he undoes it there and I lower it down, I lower him down, we take
the fittings off the old wire and put them on the new one, I haul him back up
the mast, he attaches it to the top of the mast, I lower him down, and we
reattach the bottom to the deck. Easy peasy right? Yes. Usually. Though little
problems do occur now and again. Nonetheless, it can take a whole day to do one
stay, it can take three days to do one stay, and, although I hear that five
o’clock is quitting time, I have never actually seen that happen!
Attached are two photos; one of HS part way up the main mast
working on a stay with the mizzen mast in the background (in which my role
is not non-existent as I both hauled him up and am also responsible for making
sure he doesn't fall and go splat) and one of me and the gib hanging out
together in the parking lot (in which I am lying on one corner of the sail to
show how big it is). (We had to take the gib off the fore-stay before we could
replace it.)
I’ve only been here a week. And except for motoring to
Gibraltar (which is less than a mile away) we have not been anywhere yet. But I
love it. I really really like living outdoors. It is evening at the moment and
I am on deck, the breeze ruffling my hair, a salt tang gentle and unobtrusive,
the tap tap tapping of various wires and lines knocking against masts music to
my ears, the gulls serenading me… I like that I get up in the morning and can
see sky – or heavy mist depending on the day – through the open hatch above me
and know that I will spend the day outdoors. I like that I patter along wooden
finger docks with fish galore in the water all around as I head, well,
anywhere. I like the pace of life on a boat; waking up when you are ready, walking
to get fresh baguette for breakfast, working until a job is done, interrupting
for a beer when someone stops by... I like that we don’t have schedules, or
cell phones, or even reliable internet. I like that the boat owner who is
docked beside us commented today on how boat owners are never rich in the
traditional sense (because boats, and parts, cost so much) (because they are
often too busy sailing to hold down a permanent job) but that they are ‘rich in
spirit’. I like that our neighbours along the dock come from many walks of
life, speak many different languages, and have many different agendas and
itineraries, but always have time to stop and chat, always have time to lend a
hand, and always have a smile and a story to share. I like that I was outside
all day today and will be outside all day tomorrow. I like that my work
involves manual labour and that my hands are grimy by the end of the day and
that I am learning both about basic tools and specialized parts and that what
gets done gets done and what does not get done is put on the list for tomorrow.
I like that I have a small bunk and only the few personal possessions that I
carried here in my backpack. I like that the sound of the waves washing against
the boat lulls me to sleep at night. I have only been here a week, and, who
knows, after we actually start sailing I may decide I hate the life, but, for
now, for today, I am happy, rich in spirit if you will. And that is enough.
