The weather report for today goes something like this: grey, oppressive, useless and uninspiring with rain expected later. Pretty much the same for tomorrow.
I'm chained to the computer, the house...the work. WORK, that's a dirty four-letter word if I've ever seen one. And when the pay is bad, it's one of the dirtiest words I've ever heard!!
As I sit here picking my brain for something to write, I just realized that a blog (or at least a post) reflects the quality of one's life. OK, I promise that this is temporary. It won't be long before I'm sailing or, at the very least, hanging upside down in the boat's engine compartment changing the gearbox.
When I arrived home from lunch, the garden felt so peaceful and soothing that I took these pictures. I thought about my niece Erika who just arrived at some lonely town near the Arctic Circle for a teaching gig and thought, "this ain't so bad." And it wouldn't be if I hadn't been working for 22 days straight from the moment I get up until I go to bed. I don't even dare tell you what I'm translating.
I had a bright idea last night. If I write it in stone here, I'll probably feel committed to carrying it out. Sounds good in theory, as usual.
If you've been following my story, you'll know that I'm planing to transport a multi-part mooring to Alvor this spring. The whole affair is described in Temporary Mooring in Alvor.
Before I had my bright idea, I was working on a miserable translation assignment and my eyeballs were about to pop out of my head. Enough is enough. So I surfed the web looking for some entertainment (TV just doesn't do it anymore). I began reading a heated discussion in a forum about anchors and anchoring techniques. Let me tell you, anchoring is a hot topic, very emotional stuff that is taken very seriously.
Suddenly I was looking at a photograph of a Rocna anchor filling my computer screen; ugly and mean-looking like a primitive weapon. I like it.
So off I went to the Rocna site where I watched a demonstration video and was quite impressed. I like the way it bites immediately and rotates during a wind/tide shift while remaining buried.
So, for example, if a dumb-ass boater were to snag my anchor chain with his lousy inferior anchor, it would take some force to pull the Rocna out and, if it did pop out, it would reset almost immediately. Pure genius! They should call it the iAnchor.
The same thing goes for the Manson Supreme anchor, which is pretty much a copy in disguise.
Rocna Anchor
So, I asked myself, why go through all the hassle of building a mooring when I can have an anchor that does the same job. Even better, it's like having a mooring wherever I go.
With the mucky bottom in Alvor and Culatra or sandy bottom in Sagres and Portimão, this anchor will bury itself up to the tomatoes, as we say in Portugal.
The downside is that a 25 kg anchor plus shipping from the UK will set me back 750 euros.
This means unplugging from the rat race 750 euros later than I had planned...what a life of compromises.
PS. If you're reading this and I find you anchored in my favorite spot in Alvor when I sail in, you're in big trouble!
There's a blogger over at Boat Bits who has quite a following even though 90% of his short but entertaining posts are about finding the perfect VolksCruiser - a cruiser for ordinary folks, you know, people on a tight budget, tightwads, whatever you want to call them. People like me.
Here's my boat, Jakatar, a Corbin 39 - voted the top cruising boat in its range by Cruising World Magazine a number of years ago.
Sailing Past Cabo Espichel going to the Algarve. Damn, that's a tall mast. No wonder raising the sail is sweaty work.
Anchored in Alvor, Algarve (pre-roller furling days). Installed an Alado furler in 2011.
Modified keel, skeg hung rudder, built like a tank...like a killer whale.
That's a genuine cruising boat, and it has served me well in all kinds of sea conditions, including a nasty storm.
The truth is that I like almost any type of boat: 56-foot luxury yachts, old wooden schooners, sleek sailing machines, fat motorsailers, crusty rowboats and, yes, motorboats...you get my drift.
It's been said a million times, but I'll say it again with a new twist: the perfect sailboat is the one tailored to your needs, EVEN IF YOUR NEEDS BOIL DOWN TO SPENDING THE NEXT 10 YEARS FIXING HER UP AT THE YARD OR TINKERING WITH SYSTEMS AT THE MARINA, YAPPING AND DREAMING ABOUT CRUISING BUT NEVER ACTUALLY SAILING ANYWHERE.
YOUR NEEDS!!!! THAT'S WHAT REALLY MATTERS. Make sure you scratch the right itch; wouldn't it be silly to have an itchy arm only to find yourself compulsively scratching your leg. Need I say more?
For example, here's the ideal coastal cruiser for single handed multi-leg sailing down the Portuguese coast to the Algarve and surrounding area.
Maybe the inmast furling is not a good idea, but the build and design is a tried and proven pleasure machine FOR COASTAL CRUISING.
Here's the ideal boat for day sailing or weekends.
Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 26. Shall we go sailing this afternoon and forget about her until next week.
Now I have to get back to work. These translation deadlines are killing me.
It's the holiday season and I'm slaving my life away!
That's not a very cheerful message but it's true. At least it's sunny, not -20º C and dark like in Sweden [private joke]. The sun is shining so bright that I feel like running outside and climbing a tree or some damn thing...anything except this work crap.
Cluttered work space and Buddha on the window sill
I did go to the marina after lunch. What was supposed to be a fast boat check turned into two hours of gabbing on the pontoon. I was talking to Ryker in the warm sun and, in a wink, we were joined by a group of boat owners. Before long nearly everyone was threatening to shoot or hang the politician they despise most. I'm not kidding.
The boat is fine. Dried the bilges (when it rains they always collect a bit of water from the anchor chain pipe, the loose emergency tiller connection and probably a couple of other places). The battery charger and wind generator are working fine.
An Amel Super Maramu left the port as I was leaving. On the way home I saw it from the Paimogo road going south with all sails up.
I have a huge, I MEAN HUGE, translation for January 21 and it ain't going to be easy.
Well, fuck a duck, as they say in Canada. Grit my teeth and plow into the headwind. Way back when I was still normal, my mother used to say "get a job and stop doing crazy things." Maybe she was right.
Although I hadn't planned on taking the wind generator down yet, when I arrived at the marina I couldn't bear to have a stuffed rooster on a pole. It just sat there refusing to spin.
I quickly devised a plan. I'd remove it from the pole, take it to Fernando, the marine electrician, and see what happened. No sense on getting a new one yet just to sit in the marina for some time to come.
So I disconnected the wires, loosened the two bolts holding the stub shaft in the pole, pushed up and nothing - it wouldn't budge. Heaved, pushed, wacked it and nothing...just a lot of wasted groaning.
After taking the pole and generator down, managed to pull the shaft out about an inch, no more. Pulled and tugged some more in vain. Damn it, I was getting frustrated and decided to make lunch.
Rutland about to be beheaded
After lunch, I placed the one-legged generator on the pontoon and began pulling on the pipe back and forth while bracing the generator with my foot. Finally it parted when I broke the splice connecting the generator's wires to the wires going into the boat.
I think I'll get an electric battery charger like everyone else.
Ana is on holiday and at home, which altered by routine. As a result, my boat day began after lunch and I didn't even bother taking the laptop. I'm ahead on a translation and don't expect to receive any more work until tomorrow.
Once in a while I cross paths with this shepherd near Paimogo. Today I was able to take a few photographs.
There's normally a small flock of egrets following the herd, but I only got two, the others flew away as the jeep approached
It took a while to pass the herd. The dog barked and the shepherd shouted, but the placid sheep couldn't care less. What's the hurry when you're a sheep; some have a milking appointment in the evening - big deal. That was fine by me, I was in no hurry either.
Does he have an iPhone in his bag?
If I loved my job half as much as this German Shepherd dog loves his, you'd never hear a complaint out of me again, ever!
At the marina I saw Manuel motoring around the port testing his new Beta engine. If you're a faithful reader, you'll recall that his Volvo engine, which was running like a clock, imploded unexpectedly as we were returning from the Algarve this summer. The camshaft broke and everything went to hell. What was destined to be a peaceful 4-day trip turned into an exciting adventure, in a minor way.
I called him on the mobile, he came along my boat, I stepped aboard and off we went motoring around trying all kinds of maneuvers, speeds and all that stuff boat owners get excited about.
The one great advantage of owning a boat is the socializing benefit in the real world, which is a lot better than doing it on Facebook. Hey, I'm on Facebook too, but I can't hear the engine running or feel the wind on my face.
This blog is turning me into a scavenger...a vulture looking for tidbits to write about.
It will be about 4 months before I sail to Nazare for a haul-out and a gearbox replacement. Then it will be another 2 months before I sail to the Algarve and make my innovative mooring. That's the plan. But right now the blog menu is looking pretty damn thin.
And it's getting worse by the day. This morning, out of desperation, I squeezed the camcorder between the passenger seat and the headrest to film my trip to the marina. Shit, as if that's a big deal everybody is dying to see, right?
Since I drive a jeep and the roads are rough, the short clip was mostly a vibrating mess. I got dizzy just from watching it. I've heard of worse ideas, but not many.
Then I decided to speed it up and to apply Youtube's stabilization option and voilá, here it is.
So yeah, went out to the boat, did some translation work, had lunch and then started the engine. The new, and obviously stupid, thermostat hose also leaked. Gave up and went for a walk.
Came across Ryker on his fishing boat and he said that it wasn't the hose. "two hoses don't leak in the same spot." He told me about the days when he worked on oil drilling rigs and had to find tiny leaks even in pouring rain using compressed air. He said he could find a leak even underwater and that he'd come over later to have a look.
That was good to know, so good I went over to Nigel (the unlucky sailor) who was untangling a big pile of lines on the pontoon. His ribs are much better and he had finally pumped most of the water out of his boat. It turns out that a couple of his batteries were still usable so he bought a portable battery charger and got his bilge pumps going. He also told me somebody stole his electronics while the boat was at dock unlocked and he was in hospital.
Back at my boat, I discovered the famous leak all by myself. Took a strong flashlight to it and by squinting real hard discovered that it's coming from the thermostat gasket right next to the hose fitting. A little persistence goes a long way.
The wind generator is up and running again, but looking like it has been rolling in the mud.
The Rutland 913 was spinning when I took the picture.
