susys running away to sea

"The rigors (sic) of an expeditionary lifestyle"

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Sat 15 June 2006

Slipped fron the old Scotia Trawler wharf at 7 on a bright sunny morning - just the sort of day you want to go for a sail. The viz was perfect, the water calm and close in to Lunenburg, a small whisp of wind from the SW. We are carefully timing departing from L the day the tall ship Picton Castle returns home after a year away, her holds bulging with exotic cargoes gleaned from faraway lands. Items, such as the eyeball fork, about which I heard over the sound system at the Mall in Bridgewater - dang me, to miss the eyeball fork - my life is in ruins. All the items are to be sold on the waterfront this afternoon. Oh my - and I bet I could find a use for that ole fork, too.

Anyway, we motor out and round the corner to Lunenburg Yacht Club - about 2 hours - approaching through a maze of islands and wicked rocky shoals. The Yacht Club is to one side of beautiful Mahone Bay, to the north of Lunenburg Bay. It has, they say, 365 islands, but hey, who's counting?

Left YC at 11, J having manoeuvred the boat brilliantly into and out of an enclosed set of pontoons (Britspeak for slips), turning this hefty lump virtually in her own length. Green with envy.

Wind up now, sun scorching, all three sails up - 7 knots and steaming - posey time with swimsuit, visor and shades at the helm - bit of weather helm but great for the arm muscles, and a comfortable angle of heel. Wind SW 4-5, sea that deepest iron green. As we got to to the entrance of Mahone Bay, sea and wind pick up and it's a lot colder - have to get more clothes on. Bother!

Turn NE up towards the Eastern Shore of NS - Halifax and beyond and we sail all day, J tweaking and tinkering incessantly - hyper! Me - I'm good at cruisin'. But it makes me feel guilty ("Good" said J, when I told him), so he gets REALLY thick sandwiches for lunch.

My watch till 6 pm, then haha try to sleep, or even rest, till 10pm. No chance! J decides to throw all metal objects into the metal sink, then it's up with the main, and torture the winches, and away with the genny, and stomp loudly on deck. Then at 9.30 it's engine on time - but better still - engine doesn't bother me actually - fiddle with the damned engine, removing the sound proofing - the roar of the anguished beast in it's lair gives me such a grumpy jump, I give up and get up.

"Did you sleep?" asks J benevolently - cos he's been having a great time.

"No." (Mumbled.) "You're so NOISY, Jack!" I shriek, trying to keep a grin pinned in place - he's such a boy.

"But I gotta keep the boat going." Some excuse, he's still the 1949 "Bargin' Jackie" of the prize plaque stuck on the saloon bulkhead. "I though I was being as quiet as a mouse." (Yup, even they are bigger in America.).


A pause. Me: "That was a tantrum."

J (cautiously): "Oh." Pause. "Is it over now?"

Me (quietly): "Till the .." (Loudly) "NEXT TIME!!"


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