boat visit #3

Well, a remarkable day in many small ways. For the first time I rode my motorbike to Avalon and back to see Jack Sprat. Despite being over 500k it was enjoyable, energising and ”affordable", as they say. In my  pack I carried my new $50 dinghy, some tools, coffee and swimming gear in the panniers.  When i arrived the dinghy was quickly bloated and we floated out to Jack. Due to the moderate NE'er blowing, I rowed a more scenic route through moored boats; ooh, there's a green hulled Walker 28 ketch, a nice Top Hat (just like my first offshore sailboat), a Mach II Columbia 28. Bulky, but practical I guess, and a 37.5 high sided racing yacht. They all looked lovely today. A glorious, wondrous feeling came over me, I so want to live this life full time. 

Little Jack, was hunkered down into the sea like a sniper, but with powerful lines and a keel to match. She was sitting above her lines. Phew, with a leaky stern tube seal, that's a relief. 

The clamber aboard from my Explorer 200 plastic dinghy was hilarious. As I stood amidships to hoist myself up, the floor sunk while the bow and stern came up to embrace me. As though she was too scared to be left alone in deep water.  Especially with all those jellyblubbers! Eventually I found the deck nervous and giggling loudly at the stupidity of it all. I manned the bilge pump directly eager to discover how much water she was carrying. I got a nice surprise, 62 pumps. Last time it was 67 showing 4" in the bilge. Its nice to know the Previous Owner was telling the truth about only needing to pump every two weeks. My darker thoughts had me searching for a mast as we arrived. Good, great actually. 

Despite a liberal application of acid to clear the green-blue corrosion, the stern gland did not give up her secrets. There would be no movement today either. 

Post Script: After arriving home I asked for help on the IF- Marieholm Owners Page and was given clear advice on how to prepare and tighten the gland packing. 

I quickly rechecked the chain plates, yes 6mm u-bolts (way too small), and the grinder used to removed excess thread had indeed cut too far into the saddle. Thats not safe, they have to go, pronto. 

A quick look about. She's growing on me, but so untidy,  there are rough edges everywhere. Just wait till we get out mooring Jacky ! 

But, today, I have got to go already. 

The Explorer was now flatter due to the cold water shrinking her. All good though. By the shore I enjoyed shrieks of young children playing in the water under their mothers' guidance. Yes, life is meant to be fun they seem to say. Everything is new and astonishing, they say with their unbridled enthusiasm. Good job mums! They encourage me, I take time for a splash about of my own. 

The ride home is unfortunately less safe with heavier traffic ducking and diving, giving me way less spatial respect. Stopping halfway home to finish my coffee, a Biker arrives on a massive Harley. My attention caught by the river views and day dreaming. Some grey nomads nearby are making squawking sounds to a squawking young Magpie. Its not amusing, just a little annoying. As I return to my bike a leather clad Biker is eyeing her over. The leathers are heavily worn, the hard brown body is topped by a mohawk and a sizeable scar on the back of the head, silver jewellery. I say "g'day bro" as she turns around, unphased and immediately begins talking bikes. I notice a patch on her vest;  "Shit Creek Survivor". I guess that scar was supposed to have killed her. She talks of our bikes in great detail, recent purchases, her imterstate ride today with near misses included. She's from the town where I do my Aldi shopping, I think I've seen her about, all 5 feet of grunt. I have total respect as I realise that there's nothing about her that does not scream Harley: even down to her cracked, unwashed finger nails that look more like talons. Shes unmistakably a biker for life. 

I am jealous, I want to embrace that pedigree, but as a sailor. I again feel the ache of being separated and disunited from my boat. I am so impatient to move aboard, get to work and take off to sea.