Kidnapped Dragon Tree

Killer translations always start with a phone call and end with my head spinning. When it's over, I'm left with a mental hangover from the constant gruelling concentration late into the night and again early in the morning. I need a drink!

I got a nasty one on Wednesday. That means I missed my boat day (Thursday), got insufficient sleep two nights in row and now, Friday, I feel like I've been trampled by a rodeo bull. But it's over.

After lunch I took a long walk to Paimogo under an amazing sunny sky and came back feeling as though I could do it all over again.Walking will cure just about anything.

It's such a magnificent sunny day that I decided to sit in the yard for a while. Our garden has various brushes and trees, but there is one that is special. It's special because we brought it from the Azores in our hand luggage nearly two years ago while visiting this wine museum on Pico Island.

Grandpa dragon tree on Pico Island

At the time I was about to translate/revise all the nine official guidebooks for the Azores, so I thought a trip there would come in handy.

Anyway, while we were at the wine museum, we found a cluster of small dragon trees and decided to bring one home. Since they can live for up to a 1,000 years, I thought it would be an incentive to live to a ripe old age watching it grow.

It was about 6 inches long, but look at it now (the one in the middle between the rocks).

Infant dragon tree kidnapped in the Azores

Now, I know what you're thinking, "that doesn't look like a dragon tree at all." In the beginning I too began to suspect that we'd been swindled, even though we didn't pay anything for it. But, according to dragon tree aficionados, they only start to branch out after about 10 years and grow very slowly.

Moral of the story, I hope I live long enough to at least sit in its shade some day.

Fort of Paimogo

Ruins on the way to Peniche. Once the home of wealthy landowners.

It's Thursday, my boat day.

I got to the marina at about 10:30 in the morning and mucked about doing nothing. Let's see, set up the laptop, the heater and the battery charger. By the time I finished doing that and some more mucking around it was lunch time.

Ever since the wind generator died, I've been charging the batteries with a regular car battery charger once per week while I'm at the boat.

I had a vague notion of reading somewhere that cheap battery chargers are no good for boats because of stray current eating up your precious metals aboard. Hum, better establish whether that's a fact or a myth.

Got the bible out, "Boatowner's Mechanical and Electrical Manual" by Nigel Calder and made myself comfortable in the sunny pilot house settee. Now that's what boating is all about!

After confirming that cheap chargers are not a good idea and while reading merely for fun somebody knocked on the hull.

It was Carlos, the harbour master, and the insurance adjuster who came to look at the gouges in the gel coat and the totally ruined windvane. (I was rammed by another sailboat)

The young friendly adjuster took some pictures, stared at the windvane for a moment and asked, "what does this do exactly?"

I'm a pro at explaining the ingenious and yet simple engineering of a windvane and he was quite impressed. Not with my explanation, with the windvane.

He left with a handshake and a smile. I'll see what comes of this, the bill is not cheap.

Spent a good 45 minutes planning on how to move the heat exchanger to another location beside the engine instead of over the transmission. Think I got it solved. On my way to the Algarve last year, the exchanger's bracket broke and the whole thing fell onto the transmission. No damage to the heat exchanger, but I suspect the transmission didn't like the extra heat much.

Ran the engine, dried the bilge and decided to leave early and visit the farm.

On the way, stopped by the fort just because I felt like it.

The old fort. Some dummies (politicians) ruined it by plastering the massive stone walls with yellow mortar. Really love the new Disneyland look of this fort built in 1674.

Here's how it looked prior to the facelift.

The original fort of Paimogo, as it was built

The fort once protected the bay of Paimogo from enemy ships.

At the farm, which is about 1 km from the fort.

Reminds me of the good old days when I actually farmed here for real.

The flat area below was once covered in greenhouses. The ocean is 300 m to the right

The jeep, a Suzuki Grand Vitara. Notice the fort in the background

Covilhã, Serra da Estrela and a Bad Restaurant

It was my birthday, the perfect excuse to leave town.

The mission was to visit mainland Portugal's tallest mountain, relax in the snow and and enjoy the subfreezing temperature. Appetizing!

When I used to live in Canada, I saw, felt and shovelled enough snow to last me forever, or even longer.

Ana, on the other hand, had only touched snow once. "Isn't once enough," I asked her, perplexed?

First, I took the jeep to a garage and put on new rugged front tires, added anti-freeze to the radiator (good thing because it was full of pure water) and changed the oil before driving 300 km to Serra da Estrela that rises 1,993 meters into the sky.

Ana prepared as though we were going to the North Pole: long underwear, extra-thick socks and even a heavy blanket just in case. "Canadians sit out on their decks drinking beer and tanning in -5º C," I told her.

She gave me the look, you know, the look that says "don't men ever grow up?" OK, we'll take the blanket.

To make a boring story short, after a 3-hour drive (I'm a slow driver and get better mileage that way), we found ourselves half way up the mountain feeling hungry. That's when a restaurant conveniently came into view.

Did I say restaurant? Sorry for misleading you, it was a tourist trap (which functions much like a fly trap). These establishments should be avoided and, even better, banned! They're the modern version of highway robbery. After dishing out sixty-three euros for one of the worst meals I can remember, we resumed our journey upward.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and I was beginning to sweat in my long underwear. We wound up the road not seeing a spec a snow, but the views were awesome.

When we reached the top, we saw everyone hunched over wearing hats, gloves and big coats. That's what it was like in Canada. It didn't look good.

I stepped out of the jeep and there was no doubt about it, this really was the North Pole. The wind whipping over the mountain top bit into my face like icy sandpaper, just like in Canada.

"This is amazing!" I shouted through the wind to Ana.

The peak of Serra da Estrela

Ana loving the cold, can't you tell?

View from our room at the charming Residencial Panorama in Covilhã

The Masochist Boat Owner

It's damn cold outside!!! As Hemmingway once said, "And then there was the bad weather."

A stiff breeze makes 10º C feel like ice. My apologies to anyone living in a seriously cold country. Hey, if I told you this picture was taken in the Caribbean, you'd believe me, wouldn't you?

Look closely at the fishing boat below and you'll see that it's called "Jamaica."

It's been a tough week. Got 3 hours sleep Tuesday night and been pushing the envelope for a week straight. Yes, even here on the boat, although it's nice and toasty with the heater on.

I'm ahead of the game now, so I can knock off for a while.

Had lunch, went for a walk along the pier and took these pictures. While walking, I had a brilliant thought: since I can't compete with all the exciting and fun sailing blogs written in exotic places around the world, why not take the opposite approach. You know, focus on being a masochist boat owner.

LOTS OF BOAT OWNERS COULD RELATE TO THAT! There must be thousands of sailors plugging away and dreaming about that fateful day when they are finally free to sail off somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's adventurous. Yeah, I'll say.

The problem is I've already done that. It's a bitch being stuck in the rut again.

Enough silly talk from a translator's fatigued mind. If any of your kids ever start talking about becoming a translator, send them off to the army before it's too late.

Jakatar, my Corbin 39, in the foreground with the large yellow fender

I think I'll go home now, get the fireplace roaring and fall asleep on the couch watching the news. Na, just kidding. Still got some work to do.

Complainer

Red fishing boat

Yesterday was my boat day again, spent down below working at the laptop nearly non-stop. It could be worse, if I were doing the same work in a windowless fluorescent cubicle.

As you can see, it was one of those ominous-looking days. Thick masses of low dark clouds swept by overhead until it finally rained for a while.

Luis and a buddy motored by on a rib and showed me some of the large sea bream they had caught. I remembered telling myself some time ago that I'd start fishing once in a while just to get out there on the water (marina water is not real even though it's full of fish), run with the stay sail and troll a line while whistling the morning away. Right!

Here they come with a cooler full of fish

I noticed that the Wauquiez is now out on the mooring with his mast stepped.

Look at all the wind generators in the background

Now I'm home again pounding the keyboard like there's no tomorrow. Zany translation deadlines are killing me. My stomach is starting to pinch and my shoulders are sore.

I should stop being a complainer...it could be worse, Right?

Ocean-front Farm

Thursday is my boat day. But not this week.

I had to run an important errand: taking a bottle of red wine and a step ladder to my 7,500 m2 ocean-front farm. A bottle of wine and a stepladder, that's what the two tree pruners requested.

This is Portugal, people still have fun around here!

I hung around for 30 minutes or so mostly complaining about how much work I have (which is true) so they wouldn't get the impression that I couldn't even be bothered to hang around or help.

So I went to the boat today (Friday), lugging the laptop filled with stinking work. OK, so it pays the bills.

This time I took the heater, even though it wasn't that cold, about 14 ºC. That may sound cold or warm for a winter day depending on whether you live in Norway or Mexico.

Which brings to mind the youngish Dutch couple living on the big steel boat. They go for long walks, jogs, bicycle rides or just dally about wearing shorts and T-shirts. Brrrr! Maybe it's because they're built like Olympic athletes and want to show off their chiseled bodies, who knows.

Today Ryker told me that the Dutch woman goes jogging with special lead weights strapped to her feet and legs. No wonder she walks like she's got springs in her shoes.

Ryker's pet birds, double-click so see them better

Just to prove that they can fly too

I worked until lunch, had lunch, walked around and talked to a few people, admired the tall Dutch woman walking by (I swear she looks like she could easily jump over me if I didn't move aside). I'm too shy to take her picture and I'm not too keen on posting pictures of other people without their permission.

Went back to work, and this is my view when I look up.

Having skylights is one advantage of working in the boat, no barking dogs is another

Later I took another short break and started the engine. Shifted back into forward and reverse various  times trying to convince myself that the stupid transmission is working fine. Discovered a trick while doing this though, if I shift into forward and immediately rev the engine a bit it engages just fine. No problems in reverse. See, I'm almost convinced that it will last another decade.

A Cold Day

I parked at the marina in the morning and realized I had forgotten my boat key. I usually keep a spare key in the jeep as a remedy for these occasions. No luck, I had removed it from the jeep before the trip up north.

Drove back home and got the key.

Back at the boat, as I was looking at the heat exchanger deciding on the best approach for removing it, the mobile rang. An urgent job for the next day. Damn it, the heat exchanger will have to wait one more time.

Broke out the laptop, set everything up, sat down, downloaded the PDF file and started working. But it wasn't long before the cold started to gnaw at me.

Searched for the little black heater, but then remembered that I had taken it home last summer before sailing off to the Algarve. I mean, who needs a heater in the Algarve?

As an alternative, put on a ski cap and draped a towel over my legs and started working.
It was about 12º C in the boat, but it felt cold, and I felt like I was coming down with a cold and my nose started to get wet.

So much for my boat day. Packed it up and decided to go home.

Talked to Ryker on the way out. He was feeding his pet birds...they're like tiny seagulls that flock around his boat because he feeds them and leaves out a tray of fresh water. I'll take a picture of these cute little birds soon, I promise.

The Wauquiez I photographed in the last post put the mast on the transient dock and grabbed a mooring. He'll be covered in seagull shit in no time. I kept Jakatar out there for a year, it was like owning a public toilet for marine birds.