I have always thrived, and on the odd occasion coped, under pressure. I have always managed to get what needs to be done, done. The last four months have been the most intense period for many years. It has been the same for Martin Lloyd.
Que music, David Bowie singing “Under Pressure”
Zac chillaxing
Between emptying the house and moving onto the boat, maintaining full time workload along with settling three animals onboard, it has been a little hectic. Fortunately, the animals settled almost immediately. I think it took me longer to stop observing and being concerned about them settling into to their new life than they did.
Zac seems to think the boat is the biggest cubby house ever. Moo and Nitro are just happy to be with us wherever we are.
We are into our third month on the boat and I had the opportunity with my workload to take a two-week break. I jumped on it not realising how long I had been under pressure and much I needed it. I thought I would write and get a few tasks done around the boat. Sitting on top of the “I thought I would” list was to publish a post I wrote a few weeks ago and write at least another, along with finishing installing the safety netting. Two weeks later, they are still on top of the list. In reality, I did very little.
I did do a lot of paddling, reading, sleeping and reflecting on what is important in life.
Most mornings I went for a paddle with the dogs. Some mornings our neighbour Daniel Cooke and his dog Charlie joined us. I did a couple of sunset paddles. Martin joined me for one. It was magic.
I finished one book and started another. Both were about peoples journey. The first “By Way of the Wind” (By Jim Moore) is about a couple who had very little sailing experience, yet they sailed around the world. Martin and I have a lot to learn. The second is called “Pig” by Helen Browning, which takes us through tales of an organic farm, the relationships with their farm animals, nature and life itself. It is very interesting as they transition their farm towards alternative food sources.
I slept a lot… read, snoozed, read, repeated… I think I am starting to get the hang of this break!
Fade David Bowie. Que Pink Floyd singing “Shine on your crazy Diamond”
I spent 2 days with my sister and collectively we said goodbye to a friend who passed away in the height of COVID. Her family planned for and hoped to be able to celebrate her life on what would have been her 57 birthday. When we heard the Queensland Government COVID changes the week before, I thought the plans would have to be put on hold again and I shed a tear. However, we learnt her wake could go ahead as it was at a venue with appropriate a COVID plan. Such relief. And so, we celebrated a life of our beautiful angel and Dancing Queen, Therese.
I spent the evening before the wake with a girlfriend and her 6-week old baby and playing with her 3 year old. Celebrating new life. Such precious times. They grow so quickly. My girlfriend ask what do I miss from living on land. My reply was simple, a cup of tea in bed. We have no bedside tables. We laughed, she does not have bedside tables either. Although I suspect two kids would prevent regular cups of tea in bed. That night, as I went to sleep I missed the gentle rocking of the boat.
I took time out just to hang with my sister and the following day we did girlie things. I raided her wardrobe trying on clothes for about 3 hours and then we both settled down and chilled.
To wrap up the two-week break Martin (also under pressure) escaped work and took Friday off. We slipped the lines of our berth at Gold Coast City Marina and headed north through the Boardwater up to Millionaires Row, dropped the anchor and chilled for two nights. On the second night we jumped in the dinghy for a sunset beach walk and got as far as a campfire and talked with a family who like us were enjoying a perfect sunset and a weekend sailing. It was lovely to see grandparents, parents, the two kids and their dog enjoying this life. And again the pull to head to New Zealand is getting ever stronger to be with our girls and grandchildren.
Fade Pink Floyd Que Little River Band singing “Cool change”
If there’s one thing in my life that’s missing It’s the time that I spend alone Sailing on the cool and bright clear water…
The night is peaceful and calm. Martin has had a busy day readying the boat for tomorrow’s sail. We have set ourselves a goal of going sailing every second weekend. After all we are still learning. As we ready, my mind reflects back to our sail two weeks ago.
—
Sunday came and we awoke with excitement and a little trepidation, as we were going to not only put the sails through their paces, but it was the first time the three animals had been sailing. Time will tell how the animals will go. We (humans and animals both)are all learning and adjusting to life on board. Finally, we were able to turn our attention to the boat and putting her new sails through their paces.
We readied the boat. Put most extra items away down below. Everything needs a home. When you go on board someone’s you boat can immediately tell whether they regularly take it out by how many items they have to put away. For us the galley is typically always cleared and if anything, it is the clean dishes that need to be put away. Notwithstanding, the two sink design is set up so that the draining tray sits in the second larger sink and nothing could fall out if left there. It just might move around a little. The heads and the Nav station are tidied. Laptops and my iMac are the main things to put away. We have been gradually finding homes for things.
We forgot to go through the “IF WOBBLE” check list before we depart (apologies to Elliot our International Day skipper instructor).
Easy mistake for an absolute beginner but also easy for us to say it should all be working as, after all everything is brand new. And we are still learning.
I = Isolate. (Disconnect shore power and stow the power cable properly, check there are no lines [ropes] on the water) F = Fuel (check you have sufficient fuel for the journey)
Now the above is all pretty obvious, and I got that. The following will make sense, however on a boat you need to be across all of these and check them every time. As I said I am still learning. My training was back in July 2019 in the beautiful Whitsundays. It has been a year now and we are finally at a point where we can do these checks on our boat before sailing. And it has been 6 months since we did our engine maintenance course. Confession: I have had to look some of this up to write this post. I don’t mind as it helps my learning and remembering…
All the while I have David Bowies words in my head – Absolute Beginners.
W = Water Check that the cock allowing seawater to the heat exchanger is open. Then after the engine has started, check the cooling water from the exhaust and for 30 seconds afterwards.
O = Oil You would check it the same way you would in your car, just got to remember where it is on our engine. We have a new engine if you recall.
B = Belt Again, just like your car. I need to learn what the right tension feels like, and for that matter how to change an engine belt.
We are half way there now. Still learning… It is kind of funny to be learning the obvious.
B = Bilge Here we are meant to lift a few floorboards to check for water in the hull, just in case the automatic bilge pumps are not working.
L = Leaks I assume here we check for leaks anywhere in the engine, any pipe connections etc. In theory we should be pretty good in this space as all our pipes are new as well.
E = Electrics & Exhaust Here we turn on the electrics, our navigation, our depth finder and wind instruments, radio and switch to the local channel where they regularly report the weather conditions and any incidents to avoid etc. As well as the engine exhaust extraction pump, otherwise the boat will be full of engine fumes.
As I said we pretty much forgot to run through this check list but ended up somehow doing the obvious ones, disconnect the power slip the lines, turn on the engine exhaust pump etc.
Our neighbours come on board with a fresh brew of coffee. It smells amazing and we are happy to be sharing this trip with Daniel Cooke and Sarah Schwaner. With fresh coffee and enthusiasm, we slipped our lines and Martin beautifully guided Saboteur off the finger allowing the tide to gently drift Saboteur out of our pen . He turned her to head out of the marina and we commenced our trip along the Coomera river towards the Southport Seaway though the Southport bar into open ocean. (and back again).
We had two goals; to test the new mainsail and staysail, including our ability to raise and lower the Main from our new LeisureFurl boom. And also to test the animals and see what their sea legs are like.
In the morning I gave all three of them a very small dose of an anti-anxiety drug provided to me by the vet. It worked a treat on the cat; however I am not sure it affected on the dogs.
The cat was locked in our bedroom and his litter tray was handy in the ensuite. While he did not like the loud engine noise, we had no complaints from him about being locked in the bedroom. And more importantly he did not throw up. I checked in on him a few times and he spent most of the day snoozing on our bed.
The dogs are always happiest when they are with us.
Always by my side.
By with us I mean near us. The dogs started our journey below deck while we slipped the lines. While this was happening, they were sitting at the base of the companion way whingeing about not being in the cockpit where all the action was happening. As soon as we were underway, they joined us in the cockpit with their life jackets on, clipped on to their leads that was strapped to the safety line. They have been trained to sit were we tell them to. Most of the time they followed this order. When they stray they usually return to their spot on instruction. They were once again happy. We put them below when we crossed the bar and brought them back to the cockpit again when we were in the open water. Like Zac, the dogs did not throw up. This made us both relieved.
As we headed to towards the Southport Bar, I went below and radioed into the Gold Coast Seaway coast guard our intentions for the day.
Confession time again, I truly could not remember what I was meant to do and say, and even though Martin reminded me before I disappeared down the companion way, it was like my nerves had erased my memory.
I grabbed my training book and I kid you not, it fell open on the page I needed. Then, I had to work out how to slide the hand piece of the radio, press the button and remember to say over.
I had to turn down the volume of the radio as it had been loud so we could hear it with the wind and background noise etc.
“Coastguard, Coastguard This is SV (Sailing vessel) Saboteur” (I forgot to say over). “SV can you repeat”. “Coastguard Coastguard This is SV Saboteur Over”. “Saboteur can you turn to Channel 73 please”. In my mind, ahhh which dials do I turn…I find it and rush past the channel and back again. And so, I find Channel 73. “Coastguard this is SV Saboteur Over…”
With that we exchange the required details, Vessel, plan, number of people (I leave off the 3 animals), mobile phone and they wish us a fun sail. I go back upstairs.
The bar crossing was not too bad.
I have had plenty worse and so we found ourselves out in the open water of the Coral Sea for the first time. We are used to sailing in Moreton Bay with a collection of islands to pick from for our destination. Beyond heading east and testing our sails we had not really decided what our plans where.
We had followed another sail-boat across the bar. It appeared to be a training boat as it had about 10 or 12 people on it. We watched them hoist their sails and see them flap aimlessly due to the absence of wind. Where was the forecast 5 to 10 knots? In the absence of wind we had the engine gently purring while we bounced around in the ocean swell; this was uncomfortable.
Surprisingly, we were queasy…
We being Martin, Sarah and myself. This was a first for me (other than with my brother-in-law’s driving that is). I have been in rough seas with 80% of the passengers throwing up. I was kind of disappointed to be queasy. Not of the disheartening variety, but disappointing, nevertheless.
Not to be deterred, we raised our new mainsail. It was beautiful (and easy). And despite the 2m swell and our queasiness, we congratulated ourselves on the investment we made for the boom furling mainsail. We wanted to make sailing easy for our bodies as we gracefully age. OK I am talking about me now ha, ha… Our friend Dan was super impressed with how easy raising our mainsail was. And so we rolled in the swell for a bit waiting for any skerrick of breeze, but there was none to have. Captain Marty decided to head back in. With Skipper Dan at the wheel we headed back towards the bar. I popped below deck and called in to the coast guard to tell them of our pending return and went back upstairs.
Our disappointment did not last long.
Back inside the bar we could relax
Back inside the bar our queasiness started to lift. It did not go away… It lingered for a while. Pleasantly surprising, we got some light breeze and we were able unfurl the inner staysail. She looked wonderful. Then before we knew it, we were at the mouth of the Coomera river and heading back to our marina. The setting sun was beautiful, conversation was easy. Sarah and Dan were the perfect friends to have on board. Dan’s experience and Sarah’s eye for beauty and her enthusiasm for life balanced our nervousness about our own adventures… Each time we aim to test something we practically hold our breath as we wait to see if it was a sound investment (or not). And so we furled our staysail as we turned into the Coomera river. And I could feel my breathing return.
I enjoyed the contentment that came with being happy. And I was. From here there were so many magic moments. Sarah grabbing her camera and taking photos of the wallabies on the edge of the Coomera river, moments of touch and connection as we relaxed while the afternoon passed behind us.
We were approaching the marina and Martin took over the helm. If you recall the last attempt to dock was very stressful. Today the weather conditions were totally different, perfectly calm, and a little breeze.
We approach the finger and Martin picked his spot to turn. He nailed it and docked perfectly so we could easily step off and tie off our lines.
We celebrated with a couple of drinks.
Sarah and I disappeared for a second sunset paddle.
We enjoyed an awesome dinner.
—
And so as I tell the tale of our last sailing adventures it is now Friday evening. We had a lovely dinner with our friend Bill Fuller. He has just left and Martin has gone to bed. It has just gone 10pm. Zac wants to go for his evening walk. The dogs are sitting beside me snoozing. I have just finished my cuppa; the marina is very still. And everything feels right, just right.
Martin Lloyd and I spent the weekend before last embracing the fun and folly of our youth (you can stop laughing right now) and our decision to go live-aboard. I felt so alive, energised and happy. I navigated the weekend and its experiences as an absolute beginner, as I undertook new challenges and the learnings that went with them and the laughs that went with our activities.
It is a stark contrast to the midweek funk I found myself in. You know what I mean. Hump day and all. Only this time it was extreme. I was seriously lacking motivation and struggling to focus. Familiarity (work stuff) leading to boredom. I was going crazy. Perhaps I was suffering from a lack of people contact which I find energising. Just maybe it is a combination of both. And this coming weekend it is forecast to rain (and it did). However, I have shaken the mid-week funk off.
Get me out of here I want to go sailing!!!
Let me take you back. We survived the pain and fatigue of downsizing. We are settling into a new kind of normal that comes with finding our new local supermarket, vet (found that already thank you Moo), pharmacy and the like. Not to mention where to go for our curry fix. And even more importantly, settling Zac (the cat), Moo and Nitro (dogs) into their new life on the boat and managing comfort stops. No longer can I just open the door and let them outside. I physically have to lift the dogs up the companion way (steps) into the cockpit. From here they gladly jump over the cockpit seats and wait politely, despite sometimes being desperate on the side of the boat for me to then get down and lift them onto the finger.
While part of me would be grateful if they could jump down themselves, I am grateful that they are not inclined to as I feel reasonably confident that they will still be on the deck when I return. When we are on land, I have to keep an eye on them as they explore, often heading in different directions. And as for Moo, we have just learned he can walk straight between the bars of the fence to the road. So the fence is merely a boundary suggestion. So far, escape activities are Moo twice and Zac once. Fortunately, they were both playful and not running away from a life aboard.
Last weekend was booked solid.
Friday came and I wanted to shout, “Hello weekend”.
It felt brilliant. I kicked off the weekend with a Friday sunset paddle up the creek with my neighbour Daniel Cooke in our kayaks. We were accompanied by his dog Charlie and our two dogs Moo and Nitro. It was magic, my spirits soared as each stroke weaved us through stunning vistas and the glow of the setting sun presenting an ever-changing backdrop.
Off we go
Paddling on my kayak (a happy trade off to my surf ski and purchased to carry the dogs easily) is very different to paddling my surf ski. It is a different style, each stoke needs to be more casual, laid back and chilled. I tried to model my stroke off Dan’s. He appears to be the chill master. I had to remind myself to sit back and drop my shoulders rather than the slight lean forward and reaching for the longer stroke required to maximise the power I would normally seek to feel the surf ski glide efficiently though the water. The kayak offers no such efficiencies. The creek gently reminds me that there is no sense of pace required that comes with paddling the surf ski.
The creek is quiet. The birds are singing. It’s serene.
Dan points out the birds, and he can identify the various types. Me, I’m an absolute beginner. I recall my mother being able to identity every bird in the garden. I packed an Australian bird book which has not found its way to the surface with our unpacking yet. Dan even spotted wallabies.
The sunset was amazing, the peace that came with it led to a beautiful evening of great food, wine and company. My muscles felt the joy and warmth of a nice work out.
Saturday, we had hoped to put the boat through her paces, however the wind was stronger than what we had wanted for our planned activities so we rescheduled our sail for Sunday.
We looked for things to do on Saturday. What evolved lead to a comedy of events.
We decided to put the dinghy tender in the water. Until now it had been on its trailer outside the shed. The lads decided to carry the dinghy to the water. This required wheeling the trailer to the closest point to the gangway (ramp to the finger). The lads lifted it off the trailer, rotated it to be vertical. Dan grabbed a small trolley. We put the edge of the dinghy on the trolley up on its side, then they moved it between the path’s hedges leading on to the gangway. The trolley started to slip sideways so I put my foot on the trolley to arrest this sideways movement, at that point my shoe got dosed in water and my foot slipped out of my shoe, now firmly wedged between the dinghy air-rib and the trolley.
I watched as the boys wheeled / carried the dinghy (and my shoe) down the gangway to the water’s edge. I wondered would the trolley end up in the water along with my shoe. It did not matter if the dinghy ended up in the water. Controlled or uncontrolled that was, after all, its destination. However, the boys did a brilliant job of controlling the dinghy down the gangway and lowering it in the water.
And that is when the real entertainment began.
I jumped in the dinghy to hold it against the finger while the guys lowered the engine on to the transom. I secured it by tightening the clamps. Once the engine was secured Martin said, OK you’re in the dinghy you can take it around to the other side of Saboteur. Ha, ha… I did not know how to start it nor steer a tiller / throttle combo. this was going to funny… besides, I had to navigate between our boat and our neighbours boat without damaging either. Not that that was possible as our dinghy has an inflatable tube (other wise known as a rib) around its gunwales offering insurance to every vessel but my fragile ego. In case you missed the point, our neighbour was watching.
But first, I had to get the 2.5 horsepower outboard started.
I tried to follow instructions. Attach the safety kill switch, pull the choke out, open the fuel cap breather (a little not too much) to allow air into the fuel tank. Why, I don’t know. I have probably forgotten something or got the order wrong but hey… And then I have to pull the cord. Much like a lawn mower. You get the idea. About 6 attempts later… Again I am shown, this time I am guided to pull the cord back slowly and feel it take the tension, then allow it to slide back in and then pull evenly through the tension point – easier said than done.
Martin does it perfectly… beauty, I am off… But before I could get myself taught lesson on a tiller and a throttle underway, Martin kills it so I can start it… Really, I was ok with his success… I try again, again and again. It took about another ten attempts before I got the outboard started. Now to work out how to use the tiller and throttle. And so, accompanied by a squeal (me) and three dogs, I wobble away from the finger turn the corner and practically bounced between our boat and our neighbours boat. Our neighbour is still watching. At which point Martin says I need to go out into the marina and play.
I need to master this damn fandangled thing called a dinghy. It is, after all, a safety device.
And so I cautiously venture out from between the two boats, edging forward in search of my confidence.
I am sure it is sitting on the marina waiting for me to return.
Funny how I am comfortable in a big boat, but even this small one is a totally different thing.
A fun place to play
And so I ventured forth and went in and out of some pens, I headed towards the Moor and Store (They store boats here and lower them in the water for the their owners when they want to use them) and then decided this was not a good idea. What if someone’s boat was going to be lowered in the water, or someone else was to put their boat in at the boat ramp. Imagine that. I would have to navigate traffic and so I turned and headed towards the other side of the marina. Less traffic and more open space.
The dogs were fine. They seemed to enjoy the ride. They were sitting up front balancing the boat nicely. Then Charlie a 10 kilo Cavalier King Charles Poodle cross wanted to come closer to me followed by my dogs.
Charlie was sitting on the centre seat, and I cannot blame him. It is a seat, after all. However, it changed the centre of gravity and my confidence.
I asked Charlie to move back to his original seat. I cannot remember what I said but he did it and my dogs followed suit. Relief, I was not sure how I would get Charlie out of the water if he fell in. In the Marina it would not be a problem as he could swim back to the boat. However, that is not the point. I can easily lift my dogs in.
And so I played in the marina and my confidence was a little buoyed. Not a lot. I knew I needed to practice and master this thing called a dinghy and outboard. And you can laugh… I have very little confidence yet. However much more confident in a larger boat. Then and there, I set myself a goal to go out every day for 21 days. Having made that decision, I returned to shore to reconnect with my confidence.
Some strange things were happening. I have my sea legs, well and truly, and every now and again when I get on land, I get the land wobbles. It is a thing you know.
And armed with my 21 days plan I was happy.
Yet to be mastered
However, over the next two days I learnt the bung was leaking. The dinghy was filling with water. And so, Monday morning Dan took the outboard off our dinghy and secured it to it’s mounting plate on Saboteur.
Some bailing to be done
Dan checked out the local chandlery and Martin and I went in search on-line for a bung.
It is a special bung of which there are none in Australia. This is not good for a safety device. We ordered a new one on-line and are waiting delivery. And so my 21 day challenge is on hold.
More fun to be had…
More lessons to be learnt for this truly absolute beginner…
At least David Bowies singing “Absolute Beginner” buoys my soul as I test myself…
OK, you racer boys out there with ridiculous amounts of horsepower of your back wheel can stop laughing some time soon.
Transitions, transitions, transitions… It is official, our transition from the house is complete. We handed the keys back on Saturday 11 July. The last 6 months has felt like a time warp and to borrow from The Hit Crew; “and nothing can ever be the same”.
What if…? I get back to this question later?
While it has been 5 days since we handed the keys back, we have now been sleeping and eating on the boat for two weeks and three days. This transition from a perfectly normal and beautifully set up home to a small boat could either be described as an over-abundance of courage or straight, outright foolishness. Or both, I hear you say…
While Martin Lloyd and I both have a sense of adventure there was always a risk that we were romanticising the idea of living on a boat. After all, for our honeymoon we went sailing. That was five and half years ago. Martin would occasionally ask me somewhat rhetorically,
“are we romanticising the whole adventure?”
Well it is too late now… And in fairness I was the one that was always excited… I have said so many times that I could not wait:
~ to be on the boat (tick). ~ end the trips back to the house (tick).
I can’t wait to go sailing… Planned for Saturday… Woohoo – happy dance…
Finally you say. I can feel your joy for us bounce through on-line waves. Don’t get too excited, we are not heading off on our big voyage. It will be a day sail as we want to test our new staysail. And just for fun we want to… uh no, we need to practice docking again. If you missed the dramas of our last attempt to dock the 18 tonnes of uncooperative Saboteur (the bouncing off other boats) and if you want a good laugh at our expense, grab a cuppa, jump in and follow this link. Part of our transition process is after all, learning new skills. Even if they scare the beegeebers out of us.
Transitions bring up many and often mixed emotions. Somewhere during a coffee break in the blur and time warp of the final days of packing, Bill Fuller (Marty’s friend and former band mate from 50 years ago) asked,
“What’s it like on the boat now that you are finally on the boat?”
To which Martin replied, “I am feeling excited or is it panic? I’m not sure. How do you tell the difference?”
Bill replied, “Don’t bother, just sit back and enjoy it”.
To which we all laughed…
And so our transition, while it has had many tangible components to it, it is the unspoken or deeply personal components that makes this change interesting, emotional and even complex.
I am finding my awareness of the transition moments tends to come with a sigh of relief. Some expected, some not so.
Probably the first significant transition moment for me was seeing Zac (our cat) explore and settle into the boat. I could feel my face break out into the hugest grin as he placed his paws on the edge of the cockpit and looked out. Not out of fear (certainly cautious) but out of curiosity. And I felt myself sigh with relief. We had spoken with the vet who had provided us with a stash of anti-anxiety tablets, which we only ended up using on the day we moved.
~
The second transition moment, in a way, had nothing and everything to do with living on the boat. It is symbolic of life changes. One of the reasons we purchased our first boat together was that Martin had had a serious race-bike accident that nearly killed him, resulting in a manic period in our lives starting with 3 hospitals in three days and 3 months in a wheelchair. It appeared as if he would not race again.
For someone that viewed himself as racer-boy, to be unable to race which he has done all his life has been difficult. Even more so when he had no choice but to retire from racing. In time, he recovered from all his injuries and gained pretty much full range in his knee, and so we bought our boat. In Martin’s mind he could now transition from being racer-boy to Captain Marty. Sailing has also been a serious passion of his. We loved our old boat but within 18 months we sold her and bought Saboteur.
Back to the track.
Martin was planning to do a track day with a mate. The last hoorah so to speak and had asked his mechanic to put new tyres on the bike and give it a service. His mechanic took a photo of Martin’s race bike and posted it online. Martin’s mates recognised it and started asking questions; “Is Marty back racing?” to which he shared that he is just doing a track day and then he received many beautiful comments from guys he raced with all over Australia. Some of the local guys (Ben Lowe, Brad Lesueur, Kurt Grainger, Barry Grainger booked in to ride with Marty on the track day) and the interstate guys (David James, Birdsey (Aka William Birdsey) and others) expressed their wish to be on the track with him once again. It was beautiful and brought tears to my eyes.
You really don’t want your last memory of your last race to be being taken away in an ambulance.
A massive thank you to the paramedics and all medical staff who cared for him.
He had not returned to the track (that track or any other track for that matter in 2 1/2 years). And so it was with great trepidation for me and a mixture of excitement and fear for Martin that we went back to the “scene of the crime”.
I was focused on minimising the voice in my head…
What if… he falls, ~ breaks a leg (I will put a bed in the shed and he can wheel himself to the amenities block! And I told him that!) ~ breaks his collarbone again (the Surgeon has told him he can not reconstruct it again. He has broken one collarbone four times and the other twice!) ~ and it delays our plans to sail…
I will be forever grateful that there were no falls and no broken bones.
I will be forever grateful to his friends that came and the conversations, stories and comradeship between great mates.
And then afterwards, the dialogue they shared in Messenger about how happy they were to be able to be on the track with him again, and what it meant to them.
Thank you to Ben, Kurt, Brad and Barry…
I am forever grateful.
And so Martin transitions from racer-boy to Captain Marty and he can turn his focus to new skills. If only Saboteur turned as easily as his race bike.
~
Another transition moment was Martin having a discussion with his boss and telling him we are not running away anytime soon and that he will give him three months’ notice. That feels right.
~
And finally for me, an unexpected transition moment has been falling in love with writing.
Over the past 11 months there have been almost 45 posts to our blog www.whatareyouwaitingfor.guru, and I have fallen in love with writing.
What was my worst nightmare at school (writing) is now my number 1 passion.
I get cranky when I don’t have time to write.
It has taken over my passion for painting. I have 3 unfinished paintings in the shed that I would like to finish before we set sail. Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t. I have a painting in a girlfriend’s studio that I will finish. Just to hang out with her again in her studio will be wonderful.
And so it is with Transitions, Time Warps and the occasional U-Turns, we need to know what you are moving away from and what you are moving towards.
In our case, it is not just a house to a boat, it is an identify shift as Marty transitions from racer-boy to sailor-boy, and I, corporate girl to sailor-girl.
And more than anything else, I am loving being a writer.
It is now 10 days since we docked, and with this time comes an increasing appreciation for all that we have to be grateful for in life.
Sunset at Lamb Island
In my last post I said good night after a beautiful evening on deck with the sunset and the warmth of the shiraz as our companion, our bodies weary from the days work and happy for what we had achieved.
Permit me to take you back to the rest of our voyage to our new berth and base.
We were anchored in a very sheltered spot south of Lamb Island that was perfect for the weather conditions.
We had let out about 10 meters of anchor chain. It is an imprecise science. I measure a meter by counting, one second, two seconds, three seconds, you get the idea. And then we paused (with the engine idling in reverse) for the anchor to take. It did not, so I let out another 5 meters, 1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds… We waited… The anchor takes and we checked to ensure that the current was pulling us back and the anchor held. We were happy. We set the anchor alarm for 30 meters. This alarm would go off if the boat moved outside of a 30-meter circumference. Bearing in mind that tidal movement would result in the boat turning 180 degrees twice during the night. I have full appreciation of modern technology such as “anchor apps”. We went to bed and crashed. We both slept well.
And then the anchor alarm dragged us from our deep sleep.
I blinked, listened and jumped out of bed all at the same time, while Martin’s extended arm went in search for his phone (the anchor alarm is a phone app). Our minds were rapidly waking from our sleep. I had put my left foot down first and as I transferred my weight to my right foot my leg collapsed; clearly my right leg was numb. ha, ha… now is not the time I told myself. My left arm lunged clinging to the bed as my body rose, supported by my left leg. I slapped my right leg and tried again, it collapsed again. This was to occur twice more before I had normal use of my right leg.
I was cautious going up the companionway (stairs). By this stage Martin had found the phone and checked the alarm. We had gone approximately a meter outside of the 30 meter circumference we had set. We checked the landmarks and our position against other anchored boats. I was certain we had not moved. As beautiful as it was in the stillness of the night our pillows called us back to bed…
We both feel back into a deep sleep, and then…
The anchor alarm went off again, albeit 6 hours later (tide change again). This time we both just sat and listened. We were convinced we were not moving. Martin checked the alarm and again we were just on a meter outside of the 30-meter circumference. We really should have set the alarm for 35 meters. Not to worry. Martin stayed in bed and I went up on deck and checked to ensure we had not moved and – we had not.
I had about 10 hours sleep and Martin 11 hours. I was full of appreciation for a brilliant night’s sleep. The birds were calling me to watch the sunrise. My spirits soared. I paused, embracing being in the moment with the crispness of the morning, the birds singing and in time the ferries transiting past us commuting people from Straddie (Stradbroke Island) and Lamb Island. Martin joined me in the cockpit. I think the wake of the ferry may have raised him.
It was a magical morning.
Martin cooked up a protein feast, of fried egg served on a massive Swiss brown mushroom (one of my gluten free alternatives to bread) and some gorgeous air cured bacon. My Marty appreciation bubble is soaring. We cleaned up and checked our route. It was simple, head straight out of the channel turn left and we would be in the main channel to the Gold Coast. What could go wrong? Let’s face it, it would not be a TandM (Tessa and Marty) adventure without a hiccup or two.
My appreciation bubble was about to disappear for a couple of hours.
We hoisted our anchor right on low tide. We were chasing the low tide between sand banks and islands for the next two hours.
Our passage!
We exited the channel, turned left and then had to decide which channel markers to follow. Meanwhile we had almost no clearance under our kneel. We argued, as we tried to make sense of the markers. We headed off on what we thought was right channel, and I became more and more convinced we were heading to a dead end. And then we ran out of water. We argued and turned around. It was our first U-Turn for the day.
We headed out to some slightly deeper water while we tried to make sense of the channels shown on the chart and the sea of buoys. It was so shallow and I was seeing sand banks everywhere. We turned around and headed back, only to run out of water again. We were using Martins phone for navigation (our navigation instruments were on their way still). Martins phone was fine, it was just small. The path it was showing looked like we were heading for a dead-end and sand. We turned around a third time. One of the nearby fishing dinghy’s picked up anchor and moved. Perhaps our arguing was scaring the fish away.
Finally I said to Martin; “You’re the skipper, go wherever you want”!
Martin cautiously headed down the transit lane marked on his phone… It turned out he was right (and I was wrong) Sorry baby.
When we finally passed this narrow passage, the rest of our journey was fine. We laughed because we recalled having the same argument, at the same point the last time we went down this passage on our previous yacht.
A little further on we gently weaved our way through some crowded anchorages off Horizon Shores and Jacobs Well. Eventually we found ourselves motoring down The Broadwater and then we hung a right at the entrance to the Coomera River and we were almost home. The tide was fast and the wind was now about 8knots and blowing in the wrong direction, which would make docking in our new berth at Gold Coast City Marina tough. It was kind of tight. I phoned ahead hoping to be able to book a pilot. Many marinas offer a pilotage service, where an experienced pilot will come out and take your boat in for you. Unfortunately, our marina does not. Bugger, we are on our own. Our boat is big (47 ft) and heavy (18 Tonnes) and with a full knell she is hard to turn in tight spots.
We entered the marina… fair to say, nervously…
We phoned the couple we rent the berth off. They said that they would be happy to grab a line for us. We had phoned our new neighbour Dan and asked him to put extra fenders on the outside of his boat in case we needed to “lean” against it… as we approached our berth we needed to stay as far left in the channel as we could before turning right. Unfortunately, there was a houseboat at the end of the finger (in his usual spot) which limited how far left we could go. We turned, Martin did a good job of it. I was up the front ready to throw the line out to our ready catchers. I threw, the tide and wind was pushing us back and my line fell short. Clearly, more practice required.
Time was precious, letting the line trail in the water I turned and grabbed the pole and started to push off our neighbours boat.
We were starting to shout instructions at each other. And what happened next could only be describe as a comedy of errors. We managed somehow to get out of our pen without damaging our new neighbour’s boat and were attempting to reverse down the channel. We needed to turn our boat which steers in reverse poorly. By this stage, what is a normally a sleepy marina seemed like everybody had come out of hiding to welcome the inexperience newbies and, or more likely, to push us off their boats if required.
We heard a voice say, “If you can get over here, I will jump on board and help”.
There was no problems getting over there, the problem was stopping and before Gus could jump on board, he had taken on the task of pushing our boat off his and his neighbours. Meanwhile, Martin was trying to steer and I had been fending off boats. With the help of Gus we managed to turn the boat around and headed to the fuelling dock.
We were able to pause and consider the next move. I wondered how many people in the restaurant above us were watching and laughing – best not to think about it.
Our new friend Gus phoned a friend who could give us a hand. Despite the stress of the moment I can feel my appreciation bubble returning. Before we knew it, a young French couple joined us. Mona is a shipwright (boat builder) and Noah is a landscape gardener. They have been living on their boat for many years and are very experience sailors. By this time, my appreciation bubble has definately reappeared. I was grateful we had not damaged anyone else’s boat and full of appreciation for the assistance we had been offered.
After we had caught our breath, we readied ourselves to depart from the fuel dock and head out into the channel and turn around ready to try again.
We had hoped Mona would skipper, however she insisted Martin should take us in. Perhaps it was a voodoo thing. You know get back on the bike after falling off. While at this stage I was nervous about this, looking back I am full of appreciation for the wisdom of this decision. And so, with expertise we were guided into our pen. We were prepared to fend off our neighbours boat (just in case). We had awesome line handlers who made light work of securing us to the dock. Pretty much at the same time some friends arrived. They missed the entertainment. Probably just as well.
Safely in our pen at GCCM
With Saboteur secured our friends and handlers settled into the cockpit. We cracked some beers and opened a couple of bottles of wine (19 Crimes Shiraz to be precise). Gus told me, I was pretty good with the fender, I knew where to put my feet, how to balance and when to let insurance take care of it… My years of martial arts helped.
And so we shared stories with our friends old and new, stories about life and doing what we love… despite the dramas of the day, and knowing we need to learn how to turn the 18 tonnes of boat better, we are thrilled to be on our journey. I am full of appreciation for old friends and new…
What are you waiting for? What’s your next adventure… even if you don’t know how?
Note: I originally published this article Facebook on last Saturday ( 28 June) Moving has kept us occupied. It is nice to be able to catch up on a few things.
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I held my breath so many times yesterday… almost too scared to believe that we had a boat with a working motor and sails and that we could move the boat without it being towed…
We had become conditioned to anticipate what could go wrong…. Trying not to let this negative anticipation stifle the positive anticipation for our plans, or at worst strangle our enthusiasm for our goals.
We arrived at East Coast Marina (Manly) at around 10am with the view to unload the car, do minimal organising and head out as soon as possible. Seriously aiming for 11.30 departure.
We were confident after checking everything yesterday that everything, seriously everything was working. Or so we thought!
We took two loaded trolleys to the boat, unloaded our numerous bags on the deck and Martin heads back to the car for the next load. I head downstairs to unload. All good. I plug in my iPad. It is not charging, yet other things are working, this does not make sense as we are still on shore power. Not good.
Martin gets back and I share my discovery and collectively we try and work out why. This is not good. We need to be able to charge our mobiles. Especially given that our chart plotter has not arrived and we need the iPhones for navigating unfamiliar passages.
Breathe, breathe and breathe… Right now, you can understand why anticipation can be overrated.
We phone the electrician. No answer. Shite. I phone the pet sitter to see if he can do another night. Phew, he can. I phone a friend who was coming down to say goodbye and cast us off.
And then, the electrician arrived.
Note: the advantage of using the local marina electrician is he could just be on the boat next door. He wasn’t, but he was somewhere nearby. He immediately identified the problem.
No problem at all… really… had to be something obvious (both do a mental forehead slap and laugh and sign of relief all at the same time). Depending on what source the power was coming from determined which master switch had to be on. In our defence only one of the two master switches is labelled Master… helpful…
Departing Manly
Awesome, our energy picks up. Martin announces we are leaving in 30. This meant departure was at 1pm. We set about getting organised. We had hoped to leave by 11.30am, no later then midday to get to our planned anchorage for the night. Best laid plans…
We are on our way!
Our friend turns up. It was brilliant to talk though the options of turning Saboteur’s 18 tonnes and getting underway. It is brilliant to have an extra set of experienced hands help us cast off. He also took this awesome photo as we head out. And so our journey begins… We had 2.9 hours on the new motor and had a perfect afternoon of motoring. It was not good sailing as we were nose into the wind and already 90 minutes later than planned. We wanted to reach our anchorage before sunset which was just on 5pm. We were able to do a good 6 knots and arrived exactly as originally planned and we were pleased with that. All went well. As we passed Peel Island we reminisced about anchoring there last year and the adventures that followed when our anchored started slipping in the middle of the night.
We were pleased to be trying a new and recommended anchorage.
Day 1 success!
Anchor secured, cheers!
And so we anchored in time to watch the sunset. With the anticipation of hearing the crack of the seal of the red wine bottle as it releases, followed perfectly by a gurgle as the wine merrily bounces from the bottle to our gorgeous wine glasses and we feel our bodies relax as we take that first sip. It is as if the setting sun picked up all the challenges of the day and carried them away.
In time, our attention turns to firing up the BBQ and cooking the vegies. Our unfamiliarity of our galley provides some entertainment and we eventually work out one gas bottle is empty and turn on the full one – and we are away.
Sunset at Lamb Island
We already had the steak out raising to room temperature. The anticipation of the sizzle on the BBQ did not disappoint. We set the anchor alarm and sat back and read. Martin slid his wine glass over to me. He is tired, trading wine for chocolate and has a power nap.
We head to the galley, do the dishes and tidy a little of our unpacked craziness and head to bed.
We collapse in the quietness, that is shattered with Martin hitting his head just above the bed. “#### I am sick of hitting my head”. There are only a few places where he can hit his head and somehow I anticipate one or two repeat performances. His head barley touches the pillow and he is asleep. And with that it is time for me to go to sleep.
Our journey has really begun. The anticipation has all been worth it.
It was oh so quiet. The morning was eerily still. Perhaps it felt eerie because of the significance of what was to come. Our new mainsail was being installed and if all went well, we were having sea-trials with the new rigging, furling boom, sail and new engine.
Side note: Sea-trials are where you take it out with the manufacturer/installer and put it through its paces to ensure that it all works properly. In this case our sea-trials required our rigger and the sail maker.
Normally I would be excited and jumping out of my skin. However, we were getting too used to issues and delays. When Martin and I rose that morning we barely spoke; each in our own thought bubbles; each knowing that if today did not go well we would have to… well, let’s not go there.
We drove in silence to the boat. I broke the silence and said we really should do a Facebook live. I recall saying I should be excited however I am nervous…
We arrived at the marina 45 minutes after the rigger said they would be there. We were expecting to round the bend to our finger and see a couple of guys installing our vang. A vang controls the angle of the boom to the deck under sail.
We rounded the corner and… nobody was there. We stood there for a moment. Martin phoned the rigger – no answer. Me? The disappointment felt like a wave that made my body heavy, lethargic and my inner voice says, “Here we go again”.
We walked the remaining 20 meters to our boat and left our trolley on the finger. We turn to walk the 1 km back to the café and grab a coffee. We grab takeaway and, not thinking we decide to sit at the café tables, upsetting the COVID19 table reservation and cleaning system that is in place. No problem, they have a table spare and seat their new customers there. Perhaps they are regulars like us. I don’t know. I don’t look. It is a busy place.
It was oh so quiet (thank you for the song Bjork). The water was glassy flat. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was crystal clear. There was rain over night so everywhere was damp but with the rain comes a couple of extra degrees of warmth. Nice. All in all it was a perfect day for raising the mainsail. There was no wind. We sat in the stillness.
Martin tries phoning the rigger again. This time he answers, He is polishing the knuckle and is leaving in 10 minutes. We can expect him here in 30 minutes… I don’t know what a knuckle is. He will be here around the same time as the sailmaker. Fingers crossed.
Martin and I part ways. He went back to the boat and I went to the bathroom.
On my way back to the boat Martin tries to call me. I ignore it as I am recording the day using my iPhone’s time lapse feature. I am almost there.
Our smiles say it all
I rounded the corner and my heart nearly burst out of my chest. The sailmakers and riggers were both there and working on our boat. It was like an explosion in my head and my heart. Martin walked up to me and gave me a huge hug. I am so in love with him and the adventure we are creating…
I was pretty quiet for the rest of the morning while all the guys were working. I was happily watching (and filming) as they toiled away. I can watch craftsmen work for hours and not get bored. They worked well and swiftly, guided by years of experience.
They finished earlier than expected. We were going to be doing sea-trials that afternoon. It was barely 11 am. The rigger asked, “Do you want to do sea-trials now or on the weekend?” Perhaps due to the light winds. And finally I contributed to the day’s proceedings and said, “We are doing it now”. To which the rigger said something along the lines of, “The lady has spoken”. We had cast off within 5 minutes and our new engine purred. The sails were put through their paces and my heart soared.
The wind was starting to pick up a little. It got to a nice 10 knots. Enough for what we needed. Brett, one of the riggers, was hosted up the mast and checked the rigging and made some adjustments while we were under sail. I will say that again, He was hosted up the mast in a bosun’s chair while we were sailing. Amazing man… And he didn’t drop any tools.
The sailing was beautiful. It was like mother nature put on the best she could offer. Perfect sunshine, warmth, wind and some dolphins joined us. The guys even saw a dugong. I missed it. Perhaps next time…
Oh so quiet
We came back in. A girlfriend phoned asking if we had had lunch yet. She came to the boat with sushi. I was starving. We talked and chatted. And we had one of those blissful moments that you can have with a friend who knows you well. Those moments of saying nothing at all and just chillaxing after a job well done.
You may well laugh! Downsizing is challenging. How many pairs of shoes is enough is a serious question, the answer of which may divide our followers depending on how wedded you are to your viewpoint. Having said that shoe-lovers and partners of shoe-lovers, this post may give you insight into each-other’s psychology and save you an argument or two.
How many pairs do I own you ask?
Firstly, does it matter? Secondly, I can’t really answer that question. I never counted.
My shoe cabinet, a casualty of downsizing
I did have my gorgeous shoe cabinet and all my favourites where there along-side my statement pieces. My cabinet held approximately 30 pairs and then I had bike boots (2 pairs), 1 pair of classic black knee length flat boots, 1 pair of funky wedged heal knee length grey boots, 1 pair of flat black boots (super comfy and elegant) and 1 pair of 13 holed Doc Martins (floral patterned, yes floral). They were in the cupboard. And some odd pairs of flats kicking around.
Yes, to me shoes are art, architecture and perfectly meet my old criteria, that anything in our home had to be beautiful and/or functional and have a home. Tick, tick and tick. And they made me happy…
I also tended to buy good quality, usually on sale or second hand. It is amazing how many designer shoes you can buy that have never been worn.
My inner voice, “Do I sound like I am justifying my collection?” I ask myself. “No – not at all – I just love my shoes.” I tell myself.
The couch psychologist (aka me) is coming out again…
Serious question #1. How do you know when is it time to let go of something? For me and my shoes, believe it or not, I felt like I had enough so when I acquired a new (or new via second hand) pair I had to let a pair go. This would typically be the most worn out work shoe. As far as strategies go it is not bad… And it worked more or less when the main goal was not to extend my shoe collection. However, that goal is no longer relevant as I need to downsize. Did I mention downsizing is challenging? Oh I did… OK moving on.
Serious question #2. How do I let go of old favourites? You know what I am talking about; your “go to”, most comfortable tshirt, shorts, shoes, undies etc. The one that your partner says, “you really can’t wear that!” To which you replay, “Why not? There is nothing wrong with it?”
You know your partner has secretly tried to bleach out the stain on the front of your favourite Tee. You honestly cannot see the stain they are talking about. And some of you have even successfully rescued it from the trash. And when you are spotted wearing it again you say something along the lines of “I thought you accidentally threw it out”. And turn on your heal to do something important to end the conversation. Now you know what I am talking about.
For me there is a transition zone… You know that these shoes really need to go. How many times can you resole your favourite boots? I can answer that question from personal experience. However it does not matter. What matters is I used to have a transition zone that worked for me and I would mentally prepare for letting go of one or two pairs of shoes.
I need a new transition zone!
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The challenge. My goals have changed. I am shifting from not growing many of my art – I mean shoe collection. To downsizing them.
I am mentally expanding my transition zone from letting go of one or two pairs at a time to 30’ish pairs… No comments thank you… I did mention downsizing is challenging. Just saying…
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To the rescue.
Yesterday one of my gorgeous girlfriends, who has helped me over the years downsize books and clothes appeared on the door-step with lunch consisting of beautiful ham, avocado, ash brie, yummy vege’ chips and tasty Italian biscuits for the cuppa we never had. Nothing like a care-pack in a time of a crisis’s. I tell her I will be fine and won’t need counselling – as we laugh I pour the bubbles.
Fuelled with a beautiful lunch and sparkling wine, we headed to the bedroom where all my shoes were on the floor, in roughly two piles…
Ones that I could see going and the rest. So I had about 4 pairs in the “could go” pile and a lot in the other pile. We work through the piles. I have lots of high heels for work. Many black pairs, but also red, blue, beige and one white pair of heals.
Now for the serious questions. What heal height do a I keep? High or more sensible mid-heal height? What shoes match the work clothes I am keeping?
You ask, why do I need heals when I am moving on to a boat? Well I am still working. I still need work clothes. One of my clients has started back in the office and I had my first in-person meeting since the COVID shutdown last week. When I parked in their car-park I asked myself, as I swapped out of my flats into my heals, can I still walk in them? I had about two hundred metres up a slight hill. In case you were wondering, I was fine.
COVID has not helped the decision making. As I can’t eliminate based on which pairs I have not worn lately… The answer is any of them, except my beige pair on Monday.
Nevertheless, we successfully narrowed it down. Mostly by eliminating by their condition, then comparing similar shoes, black heel with black heel which do a I keep, which are more versatile? Etc.
We did introduce a “maybe” pile and we went through that again at the end of the process.
My Docs
At this point in time, I need (ha, ha yes I know, I chose to keep): • One white pair of heels • One funky red pair of heels • One blue pair of wedged espadrilles • One beige pair of heels • One or two black pairs (ok.. two) • One pewter pair (to wear at an up and coming wedding) • One black ankle boot with heels • My floral Doc Martins • My black flat ankle boats • Two pairs of ballet flats (White with blue trim and the other blackish pair) • Two pairs of sandals (one white, one black) • Two pairs of thongs (one beach, one more dressy) • Two pairs of knee-high boats (one flat black, one grey wedged heel) • One pair of bike boots • Two pairs of sneakers
So that is twenty-one pairs. Yet when I took the photo it was twenty-two pairs. I missed one pair. Closer examination of the photo and I found my deck shoes. Kind of important.
I know it is too many. Nevertheless, it is a huge cull and I am celebrating the mini milestone as I have entered a new transition zone. The shoes will go on a rack in the shed at the marina until we go sailing further afield in December. I will still be working after we go sailing. What that looks like, in an office or remote who knows? I have also culled my clothes and will revisit both my clothes and my shoes before we set sail. More downsizing to look forward to.
But now I have a 6-month transition zone to let go of more of the shoe collection.
For now I am happy. I am proud of myself… Thank you to my gorgeous friend!!! I am pleased with my new strategy that will get me to December.
And to the answer to the question: how many shoes is enough is what-ever is right for you (and your circumstances)?
PS my girlfriend went home with another pair of shoes and some more clothes. 🙂 Thank you for your help with downsizing!!!
Looking for my keys is not uncommon for me. I usually find them in the bottom of my handbag, but which handbag is usually the question? The way I track them back is I need to reflect on what outfit I wore (yes I remember the strangest things) and then connect the outfit to the handbag. It sounds like I have a lot of handbags. I have a few. Perhaps, I will count how many I have before I publish this article. That’s if I remember to do so.
I have been forgetting things.
Six days ago; We were at the boat Sunday afternoon doing some work and then had a quiet drink on the deck. Went home. I woke up Monday morning wondering if we have closed the hatches and portholes. I threw the dogs in the car and headed out to the marina. Their morning walk was at East Coast Marina Manly. And we had shut the hatches.
I laughed at myself and I was glad to have made the dash out there as rain was forecast.
Some of our new rigging
So, I sat on the deck and enjoyed the stillness of the morning. I imagined what it will be like getting up every morning and bringing my cuppa up and watching everything and nothing. Every time a fish jumped out of the water I missed it, only catching the concentric ripple of evidence they left behind them. I noticed, people leaving their boats dressed for work. I remember to look at our new rigging. Two women paddled back to the shore in their single woman outriggers. They must have left early. One was lefthanded, one was right minded.
— Mental note 1, remember next time I am in Hawaii I want to paddle a traditional outrigger… Mental note 2, remember I must bring my surf ski to the boat this weekend. —
Tuesday, I realised I was meant to contact two clients last week, and I had not… (I must rectify that)…. Along with two friends…
Wednesday morning, I woke up to find that I had prepared the dog’s dinner the night before and had forgotten to put it down for them. They are way more polite than the cat is in this matter.
And that only got me as far Wednesday.
So, what are your signs of being under pressure or stress or both?
For me, I eventually feel it in my jaw. However, there are plenty of other earlier signs. Most of them are around short-term memory. Where is my phone? It can still be in my hand when I ask myself the question. Where are my glasses? Walking into a room to do something only to fin myself standing still tryng to remember what that was. Retelling my husband stories from the day. Not one, twice… Hey baby, did I tell you…?
My mind races. Normally, I like working at this pace. However, I can only do it if have balance. Normally, I have it built into my day. For me it is the quiet of the morning before anyone else is awake. However, nothing about the last few weeks has been normal.
The two things that always help are a kick-arse action list (and then the keys magically reappear) and pausing to reflect. In that reflecting space I can relax and connect the dots of what I am meant to be doing and why. Versus jumping across thoughts as they either catch my eye or my mind lands on what I need to do. The former is planned and proactive and the latter is reactive and risks missing something seriously important.
If I reflect and plan in the evening I can relax and sleep knowing exactly what I will do in the morning. I wake and my morning routine kicks in. And balance is restored once again.
With deadlines looming our schedule is ever changing… We are two weeks behind on schedule version 1,099…
New Engine and reconditioned GenSet
Week starting 25 May 2020 (this week): • engine craned in – tick – crazy happy dance • engine gets connected and other bits and pieces… almost finished.
Week starting 1 June 2020 (next week) • new inverter, batteries and electrical checks – (OMG done a week early… unbelievable… another happy dance) • new sail installed (or the week after)
And with a new sail and the rigging will we need to do what is called a “sea trial” to ensure it all works as expected… Seriously running out of time. We are feeling the pressure of multiple deadlines.
We have planned to be moving onto the boat this weekend. However, the interior is still in a million pieces. OK I exaggerate… 999 pieces… You get the idea.
Meanwhile back at the ranch we are both working too many hours and are still swimming in a sea of books, shoes and bits and pieces that are no longer supported by furniture… i.e. it is all on the floor.
Back to our schedule or reschedule…
We have had to reschedule the pet sitter. He was meant to be looking after the animals this weekend while we were moving the boat to the Gold Coast. We rescheduled him to the following weekend. However, Bill Fuller in case I forget to tell you, it may be the weekend after… or… sorry the deadlines keep changing.
We are getting a few questions about the animals. Moo and Nitro (the dogs) will be fine I have no doubt. Zac (the cat) on the other hand – well that remains to be seen. I spoke with the vet about sedating him. He recommended some anti-anxiety tablets instead and to try them out first. They worked at treat. Tick…
Our best-case scenario is now to be moving the boat to the Gold Coast the weekend 5 June…
Our worst case and last option is to be moving the boat to the Gold Coast the weekend of 12 June… Not ideal as we have a skip scheduled for the 12 June.
It will be worth it… we just need to get through the next 3 weeks.
And as the deadline approaches our stress levels are increasing with the diminishing timeline and so many activities in the hands of others. Mechanics, electricians, sail makers and… And, of course there is a domino effect…
Jump into our Facebook page to see time-lapse videos of the crane lifting and lowering the engine through the cockpit, into the galley and into the engine bay.
