8.4.06

All Is Well In the Best of All Worlds

The waiter sweeps in, brings dishes after dishes. We eat until we bloat in our ancient surroundings of cobble stone streets where the wine cascades into our glasses. Then comes the tray of elaborate deserts and when we think we can simply cannot have another bite, the strong coffee comes in, acidly sweet and dark, it opens the way to a night of partying.

Rike reaches over, turns on the light and kills a mosquito with a slap that smears our blood all over the wall. I vaguely remember a dream where life seemed somewhat better, a life without the smell of dead fish drifting through the hot still air. The stink emanates from the fifty or so offshore commercial fishing boats docked in the featureless Spanish town of Bouzas, our home for the past two weeks. I remember a life where Rike was not moaning in pain and vomiting the curses of a bad mussel she ate. I long for a time when we were not worrying about how much money we would spend to fix our failing starboard transmission.

I think back at the crossing which went without any problems, but the before and after bits were not so easy nor so cheap.

Back in the Bahamas, a little before Nassau, we ripped the clew of our mainsail at the webbing. Our Ulman sails were less than a year old and the webbing was failing left and right. We hired a local sail maker to replace the webbing on the clew and sew on new webbing along the luff. After a thousand dollars the sail came back butchered, both at the clew and along the luff, the part that meets the mast. So we contacted Ulman who said "send it to us and we will fix it". Meanwhile time was ticking and our crew was due in a week so we sent the 135 pound sail via Fed-Ex. Ulman fixed it for a fee, but when it came time to send it back the local airline company refused to carry it, saying that it was too heavy. Fed-ex sent it by boat and it arrived in Marsh Harbor three days late after hours of arguing and fighting with Fed-Ex who began to feel more like a Soviet bureaucracy than a business. I was told by the local rep that if I had a commercial account with Fed-Ex I would be treated differently.

When the sail came the job was beautifully done and the free upgrade of batten pockets that Chuck, at Ulman, gave us made all the difference. So I thought all is well that ends well and off we went for a trouble free transatlantic. Still, as soon as we got across we were faced with finding a place to haul out and fix the transmission, waiting for options, prices etc. . . So much for the sight seeing we had opted for by sailing the longer route to Vigo from the Azores. It was now a money spending proposition.

Joaquin Davila at Davila Sport Marina tried hard to make our stay easier and the great staff there was helpful, but still, it was not easy with two girls who sat tight during the whole crossing to tell them to sit tight for longer in a place that was not really fit for kids. While the Marina was state of the art, it's location in Bouzas was less than appealing and I began to joke that if there is one thing that Anouck and Celine would get out of this it was the impossibility that a future partner could lure either of them into the "carefree" life of cruising. At least that's a lesson well worth it's cost.

In the meantime our friends, the Gaginni family (Giovanni, Nathalie, Eleni and Mia), from Winterthur were supposed to meet us in Lisbon 230 miles to the south. Everyday we were told we would get hauled out the next day and suddenly we realized that we would not make Lisbon. We picked the Gaginni's up by car and they put up with a few more days of waiting to get hauled. Meanwhile I fretted at the fact that this was their vacation and that they were spending it in a fishing pit.

After two weeks of waiting we got hauled out and all landed in a hotel for the night. Back on the boat the next day we made the 230 mile passage to Lisbon in a stiff breeze.

It was there that, as we were celebrating their daughter Eleni's birthday, (we had celebrated Nathalie's 40th in Bouzas when Rike ate her fateful mussel) we found we had lice!

The crawling bug thing seems to be a motif in our friendship. After the first outing the Gaginni's and we did back in the US five years ago, we discovered that we were covered with seed ticks picked up during our hike. Hundreds, literally, had infested our bodies and here we were, barely knowing each other and peeling clothes faster than horny college students.

Five years later here we were again, checking heads, pulling sheets off, doing loads and loads of laundry, showering with insecticide, just one big bug filled family. Kind of funny until one starts looking at the docking bill to deal with the laundry and the laundry bill to boot and realize that those little things were worth hundreds of Euros.

The Gaginnis left, I am sure somewhat changed, after fun filled days which included Nathalie getting a radical new haircut meant to make her thick main less lice friendly. The haircut was performed by Rike who approached the task like I would a docking in strong cross winds. "Don't talk to me". . .

So, here we are on the boat, alone after having friends and crew non-stop since May 18. Our boat and non-boat problems appear to be behind us. We are ready for some relaxed cruising when, in the middle of breakfast the propane alarm goes off. It indicates either a leak or a failure in the system. The last time I had an alarm go off, the boat (NOT Cénou) would have blown up because the leak was real and really big. This time the failure was a short in the solenoid switch that closes the propane.

Part of cruising in foreign ports with a complex boat, I guess, is the art of spending money and trying to make the best of it. So the girls went shopping in Lisbon because Celine's clothes were all lycra tight. I guess she is growing. In the meantime I hired Carlos to help me hunt down a new propane system and solenoid switch in the Lisbon maze.

Carlos was great. Well versed in the history of Portugal, as many Portuguese are, I paid him 16 Euros an hour and he drove like the 65 year old maniac driver that he was. We went all over town looking for what we never did find. But, in the process we talked Portuguese politics, his love for his 45 year old wife of three years and he showed me how to eat grilled sardines, guts included, in a little out of the way restaurant far from the center of town. We discussed aging, the passing of time, all at dizzying speeds.

In the end it was the fastest way to loose track of the goal and still accomplish something because I learned more about Portugal from Carlos in the five hours ( I only paid for four hours because I paid for the sardines) than I had in the past week.

So, all is well that ends. We have a new propane system (regulator and bottles), Celine has new clothes, Anouck gets her hand downs, Rike got to see a little more of Lisbon and I had a great time with Carlos.

As Candid said while leaving Lisbon in flames, "All is well in the best of all worlds" and after all this, as we sit at anchor in Alvor, I think, that perhaps, maybe, not without some apprehension, our troubles might be behind us.

All the best to everyone

Claude and the crew of Cénou