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Trapped by an anchor chain and how we broke free

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Trapped by an anchor chain! This post tells the story of the trials and tribulations of preparing and securing our boat Saboteur in order to have a worry-free visit to see Martin Lloyd in the Philippines.

—

Freddie Mercury singing, ‘I want to break free’ is ringing in my head.

I was attempting to leave the Brisbane River to berth Saboteur securely at East Coast Marina in Manly while I visited Marty in the Philippines. I did not want to worry about Saboteur being left on anchor while I was away.

Let me step you back a little. I had had a restless sleep. I was overflowing with a mix of emotions. Excitement and anticipation as it was one more sleep before I would be winging my way to Marty. It had been two months. I was also a tad nervous, as it was going to be the first time I docked Saboteur myself. Normally Martin docks and I take us off the doc when we leave. It is just a habit we got into.

I was probably a tad overwhelmed as well. I had so many projects on the go and the boat looked like a bombshell had hit it. Not how I normally like it. I am a touch boat proud.

My partner in crime for the trip was Phil, a friend we meet while at Dockside Marina. He and his wife had owned a Tayana 54. They have sailed it around the world twice. I was looking forward to the trip and consider Phil a Mentor.

First things first, prior to picking him up I went through the safety checks:

  • I – Isolate (we are on anchor so it is fine)
  • F – Fuel, Aft tank full. Forward tank, 25 litres
  • W – Water
  • O – Oil
  • B – Belts
  • B – Bilge
  • L – Links
  • E – I forget… Need to look it up… Ha, ha…

I headed into North Shore Hamilton to pick Phil up at the recreational jetty. He jumped into the dinghy and we headed back.

We disembarked from the tender via the swim deck and connected it to its davits. I passed the oars and the bailer up to Phil then removed the electric motor outboard battery and placed it on the swim deck and then passed it to Phil. I had to hunt for the key to unlock the steel cable on the outboard shaft. Mental note – I should have done that earlier.

Found it… I unlocked the cable and unscrewed the clamps that secured the shaft to the transom. As I was mid-lift, Phil quietly said, ‘You really should have a safety line on that’. OMG, what was I thinking. He was dead right, and I had flashbacks of chasing my 20-litre water bottle down the river. Extra carefully, I lifted it on the swim deck and passed it up to Phil.

I then jumped back into the dinghy and connected the pully to the dinghy. Phil began to hoist the dinghy up on its davits. He informed me that the clamps were slipping a little.

Mental note: Add to the project list … replace clamps.

When it was two-thirds of the way up, the dinghy slipped out of the port davit and nosedived for the water. The river rushed into the bow of the dinghy. Next thing we heard was the sound of timber creaking and the definitive crack of when it yielded to the combined weight of the dinghy and the river current trying to pull the dinghy under.

Bloody hell. The good news is:

1. It righted itself. Woohoo! Love the Walker Bay design…

2. We had appropriately tethered the dinghy to the safety railing. Otherwise, it would have been phoning a friend to chase it down the river.

I assessed the damage to the swim board. Yep it’s broken. From my first inspection, it was too hard to work out how the damage was done. More precisely, how much work would be involved in repairing it. Secondly, we still had all the parts of the davit system. I took them off the dinghy and secured them on board (Of course, we now had to tow the dinghy, not carry it).

OK, that was a challenge we could have done without. Bah, humbug.

I started the motor and:

  • Turned on the instruments
  • Turned on the engine blower
  • Turned off the anchor light
  • Checked the anchor winch was on

We were ready. Phil headed up to the bow sprit, removed the snubber and got ready to lift the anchor chain. He did so, and every now and again the chain jumped out of the winch jockey and he had to lower it again.

Note: Another project, replace the arm pin and service the anchor winch. Great now I have two new projects….

I heard Phil say, ‘We are clear and all good.’ As he moved towards the cockpit, I put a little power on. He grabbed the boat hook and headed back to the bow. He signalled for me to stop. I did so. It was clear we were not moving forward. In actual fact, Phil said ‘We are clear and it’s not good.’

I made my way to the cockpit to see what was going on. Our anchor was clear of the water, however it was wrapped in another anchor chain. Bloody hell! We attempted to remove it without much luck. We really needed to lift the weight of our anchor to have any chance of removing the chain.

I phoned a friend. 

My neighbour Mike (Michael Hendra). He put on his life jacket and headed over in his dinghy. Phil and Mike discussed strategies. Mike positioned his dinghy under our anchor and we lowered it into his dinghy. Between twisting and rotating the anchor, with Phil on the boat hook and through Mike’s sheer strength, the anchor was freed. We attached a buoy to it so that we could avoid it next time, and maybe pull it up on our return.

With many thanks and a grateful heart, I waved good bye to Mike and shouted ‘see you in a few weeks’. We turned our attention to the voyage. We headed in the direction of the river mouth. It was a pleasant day with a slight breeze on the nose. I handed the helm over to Phil while I attended to some paperwork for my travels.

Phil seemed happy at the helm, so I sat back and enjoyed the journey. We were approaching Manly and were yet to turn into the channel when the engine coughed and spluttered and stopped. Bugger, I ran downstairs to check fuel tanks. I did not think we were that low. I had checked it after all. Luckily, we have a self-priming engine that pushes the air through on its own. And so I changed to the full aft diesel tank and we were under way again. I took the helm; my nerves were up. The weather conditions were still ‘perfect’ A very slight breeze from the South South East. It was brilliant. Remember, this was my first time docking. Phil and I spoke about which way to do it. Would we tie off bow first or stern first.

Phil suggested that we should berth bow first.

I told him that Marty and I always berth stern first, as we have the bow thruster. A bow thruster is a small propeller in the bow of the boat that assists with turning in tight circles. When docking it assists in keeping the bow of the boat against the dock. Phil informed me that they did not have a bow thruster. I got the feeling that he wanted me to dock without using the bow thruster.

We talked the approach, the speed and which way to turn the wheel. Bearing in mind that I suffer from dyslexia, and when I switch from forwards to backwards, I have been known to get confused sometimes.

The time had come. I really wanted to do this. I could have easily said to Phil ‘you take over’. But no, I held onto my nerves and I approached the finger. I could not see the finger as the sides of our boat are so high, so I ended up standing on the seat. I adjusted, a little to port and a little to starboard. It was more of a wobble zigzag, as it is easy to over-steer. The approach was now on point, I was slowing down. Was I at walking speed? … Hopefully.

Phil stepped off onto the finger to tie off the bow. As soon as he was on the finger, I turned the wheel hard to starboard and put her into reverse with a few revs. Beautiful, the stern of the boat was turning in.

I threw the stern line to Phil and he caught it. And voila – we were docked. It was not the smoothest nor the prettiest docking, and I have seen far worse. I did it, and I was chuffed.

We were docked

Phil went off to his boat to do a coat of varnish and I headed to the marina office to collect the key. We were meeting up later in the day. Phil was going to look at my generator to try and figure out why it was not working.

When he returned, we discovered that I had accidentally switched of the generator emergency kill switch. Ha, ha… I must have done it when I was checking the oil. He also noticed the fuel filter needed to be changed and the fuel housing cleaned out. Another first coming up for me to do this. It will be the subject of another post. For now, I was happy that I had docked for the first time, and that there was nothing wrong with the generator.

And now to go see my baby in Manila…

Originally published on Facebook on 10/09/22.

#sailingsaboteur #boatmaintenance #whatareyouwaitingfor #liveyourlife #getoutdoors #wearsunscreen

Saboteur with the dinghy
Broken swim board
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Digging the sailing life…

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Colmslie Reach Beach when calm. My happy place.

Digging the sailing life… not… I am just not feeling it. Am I over all that the sailing life entails? Is it too hard?

I’m sure as hell not in love with our wind generator as I try to sleep at night.

The last few weeks have tested me. Hanging in on top of the flu (Marty Martin Lloyd) Dentist (Marty) flu (me), Dentist (me) Hernia Op (Marty) Covid (me) Covid (Marty)…

Enough… I shout.

I phoned my bro Michael Brook and asked him to drop off a RAT test. We talked briefly and I described my symptoms. He told me it sounded like his recent symptoms. We met at the jetty and he gave me 4 RAT tests, a bag of apples, a bunch of bananas and a pot of home made Chicken soup.

OMG legend.

It was strange not to get out of the dinghy and given him a hug. It was air kisses from afar. He handed over the greatly appreciated goods with the words, ‘Buckle up sis, you are in for a ride’.

The first few days were a fog of aches and pains of which I have but a hazy memory. Aches and pains shifted to nausea … wind against tide. Got to hate that. Trust me. The winds pick up.

My anchor alarm went off, about 7pm…

I headed to the cockpit to see the stern of the boat was close to touching the anchoring buoy. The wind had us on full stretch and I am not sure how much more stretch we had in the anchor chain. I need to move the boat. Barhumbug. Cold and nauseous, I donned my waterproof jacket and life vest, turned the engine on and told myself to belt up…

I phoned my neighbour Michael Hendra to let him know what I was doing. He was going to keep an eye out for me. It wasn’t like I could ask him aboard to help with COVID and all. Plus I had done this before on my own at night. I headed to the front of the boat to see what the anchor chain was doing. Not sure why, as I already knew that I was being pushed back. Three points of contact … whoa … I need to throw up! I leaned overboard, holding on and threw up.

Damn, I did not see that coming.

I got to the bow to remove the snubber. (The snubber is a short length of non-stretchy rope hooked to the anchor chain and to two strong points on the front of the boat. It’s function is to take the load off the anchor winch and stop the chain rattling). I love our snubber… normally. Removing the snubber required leaning forward. I was hoping I didn’t throw up again. Snubber removed.

I headed back to the cockpit. I had Freddie Mercury in my head… ‘Don’t stop me now, I am having a good time.’ Really… Now I am hot. The cool breeze was lovely on my face and my legs. I realise that I was no longer cold. Perhaps I have a fever.

I put the boat into gear to nudge forward, getting ready to lift the anchor. You had to be kidding me. I needed to go to the toilet. Anchor chain raising could wait. I headed below. On the way back up, I went via the galley and grabbed two gastro stop tablets. Still, Freddie was in my head.

Back in the cockpit… I lifted the anchor chain from the cockpit. I nudged forward. There were 20 knot winds. The boat was being pushed from behind by the current, but the wind was playing to its own tune. I went to drop the anchor.

No sooner did I slow the engine, the current and the wind started working against each other and put the boat into a spin. It was crazy.

I continued to lower the anchor, with no idea how I was going to make sure the anchor had set. The usual practice is to allow the boat to drift back in the current and add a touch of reverse to ensure that the anchor grabs. You can normally see the chain pull tight before resuming a curve to the river bottom.

I did not like the position I was in and decided to try again, hoping the wind would drop a little. I phoned my neighbour Mike, to tell him that I was going to try again.

Take two, and I had about as much success as take one. Seriously not digging the sailing life.

Another quick call to Mike to let him know I was going to try again. He said I should try and come in a little closer to shore. I wasn’t game, as if I got into another spin, I didn’t want to hit another boat coming out of a spin.

I decided to go for a little river cruise.

Not really, just a bigger circuit and more speed in the straight when dropping my anchor. Hoping to… I wasn’t sure what. As I rounded the anchor buoy, the wind dropped to 5 knots. You beauty! By the time I got to the position where I wished to drop anchor, it was back up to 20 knots. I dropped the anchor. At best guessing how much chain I had out. Normally, I can only tell how much if I am at the bow and there is decent light. However not this dark miserable windy evening.

I sat and waited. And waited. I could not set the anchor alarm with any accuracy. However, I could put GPS pins down on my Navionics map and so I did just that. And another pin, and another and another.

Gradually, I was feeling more comfortable. The pins told me that I was not moving, at least for now. Somewhere during the past 30 or so minutes, I threw up and visited the toilet again. I was very grateful to have Mike nearby. Someone I could call if need be and always willing to lend a hand.

Gradually, the boat turned with the current and wind, which were more or less in alignment. 

I got a message from Marty, ‘Did you manage to fall asleep?’ A quick call. I told him what had been happening how tired I was, how cold and miserable I was and that I was missing my baby. He said, ‘I wish I could be there to help you’. I really wished more than ever that he was, too.

I decided to go to bed and catch the next 4 hours sleep while wind and tide were in alignment. Weather wise, the next day was a better day. I slept most of the day. Thursday, I dragged my bones out of bed and got a Covid CPR test. Before heading back to the boat, I sat on the beach in the sun for a little bit. It was lovely. I got a message from the test centre saying they are testing for other viruses as well. Great… Time will tell.

I got back to the boat to find Maritime Safety Queensland pulling up.

They waited while I tied off.

They asked me if I knew that Saboteur was in the passage. I said I did, explained why and that during the night I had had two attempts to move. They asked me if I was still on my own. ‘Yes’, I replied, I was. And was I up to/able to move the boat again? ‘Sure, why not. After all I am really digging the sailing life…’ Ha, ha. Actually, it was a such a pleasure to do it again when it was calm. It still took me three goes to get a position I was happy with. About two hours later, a massive ship was docked at the terminal for about 6 hours and left again. Saboteur was safely within the anchorage, and I was once again tucked up in bed.

I tell you of this adventure not for your praise. More so for my friends who worry about me being on the boat on my own. This is for you, to let you know that I can do it, when I have to. I don’t always want to.

As my close friends know I can be too independent at times. It is both a strength and a weakness.

Missing Marty and wishing he was with me I shed a tear or two and secretly the wind generator would die as I had totally forgotten how to turn it off. I asked Marty the next day. It was so simple. One button.

At the time I wrote this post the boat was seriously not my favourite spot. Perhaps, it will be again tomorrow, or next week, or when a few of my half-started projects are finished, or when I am over being sick, or when Marty is back and we are together again. Or a combination of the above. Who knows. Time will tell.

What I do know is when I returned home from work on Wednesday, I had the biggest grin on my face. Thursday, Mike’s music rolled across the water to greet me like a warm hug and Friday evening, I simply sat in the cockpit and enjoyed the sunset and a couple of phone calls with friends. I still love Saboteur even if she is a little hard work. I am digging the sailing life.

To borrow words from my friend Tom Stodulka, Life is a dance.

This post was originally published on Facebook on August 08, 2022.

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Doctors, dentists, and other stressful things

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Quote Oh my god it is a real phobia

Marty’s misadventures with doctors dentists and other stressful things.

My keyboard has been firmly closed for the last 5 weeks or so. Mostly, but not entirely because of the unexpected adventures of Marty mayhem with numerous medical specialists and other officials.

Best laid plans and all… Marty (Martin Lloyd) was planning to visit his daughters and our granddaughters in NZ for two weeks prior to flying to the Philippines via Sydney.

We were Gold Coast based at the time. I had planned for us to stay at a nice hotel and go to Bamboo Basket at Portside Brisbane the night before he was to fly out.

About 5 days before said scheduled departure date, Marty came down with the flu.

He was still too sick to visit the doctor to get his travel COVID clearance certificate the day before his planned departure. Collectively we rescheduled his doctor’s appointment, his flights and cancelled the hotel booking. It was a combination of me finding the respective phone numbers and dialling, Marty croaking ‘I have no voice’ with limited vocal capacity, handing the phone over to me to make the required changes.

By Thursday evening, I had a tickle in my throat. I woke up Friday feeling fine, and with that a sense of relief. Meanwhile Marty spent all day asleep. This was a good thing, as I had things to do and I am not that good at sympathy, especially when it comes to man flu. This is a little unfair, as Marty has always been brilliant when I have been sick, especially when I was knocked out with the flu for a crazy 6 weeks a couple of years ago.

Friday evening, Marty was clearly making a good recovery and started complaining of a toothache, and I was rapidly coming down with the flu. Remember, I am not good at the sympathy thing. I said something along the lines of, ‘We will see what it is like in the morning’.

I gave him a neat whiskey. One for me, one for him. Perhaps there was another one for me and for him.

I went to bed with a packet of tissues and a small waste bin. Not happy.

Saturday morning the flu had a firm grip on me and Marty was feeling much better flu wise. Unfortunately, this was replaced by an increased toothache. In case you didn’t already know, Marty has a full-on phobia of dentists, as well as needles. Unfortunately, this tends to require that he be fully knocked out for pretty much all dental procedures. We tried to get hold of his dentist; they were closed. I couldn’t believe I did not have his mobile number. We spent 2 hours trying to find a dentist on the Gold Coast that could practice with anaesthetic. No such luck.

I phoned my dentist, who had seen Marty on a previous weekend emergency.

Cooparoo Family Dentist agreed to see him and to fit him in to their Saturday morning schedule. I was too sick to go, and Marty promised me he could go on his own; after all, they were not going to do anything aside from just make an assessment.

When it came time to leave, he couldn’t find his motorbike keys…

Talk about the subconscious sabotaging the dentist visit. An emergency phone call was made to a friend (Karin Engel). ‘Can you take him?’ I asked. To make the appointment on time, it would have required her to leave immediately to pick him up. She couldn’t come straight away, but could come in an hour and suggested I ask the dentist to reschedule if possible. I did and they did. Just as I was about to fall back into bed, Marty lowered his trousers to reveal a 6 x 3 cm lump in his groin with the words, ‘What do you think this is?’ I nearly had a heart attack. I grabbed the camera and took a photo. I fell back into bed and Marty hopped in the dinghy, took an Uber to Karin’s place and she drove him to Brisbane.

It transpired that he had this lump for a few days, but was more concerned about the toothache. He was lucky to get to the dentist… Meanwhile, the lump had been burnt on my retina, and I wanted to throttle him.

I sent the photo to a friend who is a doctor with the apology of, ‘I’m so sorry to send this to you after hours. I am super worried.’ He replied, ‘No problems, looks like a hernia, get Marty to see his local GP about it’. With that I fell back asleep.

My sleep was broken by a phone call from Karin who had successfully delivered Marty to the dentist. Her call opened up with,

‘OMG, it is a real phobia.’

Yes, it is.

I was so grateful that she could deliver him and return him. Also, I was so very grateful my dentist who saw him on the weekend and had referrals made for him, together with the promise to phone the specialist first thing Monday to ensure he sees the specialist for a consult and then a procedure before his departure in 5 days. Amazing, truly amazing.

Meanwhile, the flu kept me in bed.

Before we knew it, the consult day had arrived. He very bravely took himself to the specialist. I was impressed.

The following day he was scheduled for his procedure. He had to get there by himself on the train. Again, this was big. Huge. He usually struggled to put his foot over the dentist door. Furthermore, because he was going to be knocked out, he needed a responsible adult to meet him and take him home.

Once again, I phoned a friend. This time it was Bill (Bill Fuller) who took on the role of responsible adult.

From my sickbed, I had booked in car parking in the City, adjacent to the dentist, for Bill.

Marty had about 5 hours post recovery before he had to see his GP for his Travel COVID clearance certificate.

Bill kindly picked him up in Brisbane CBD and drove him to Stafford for his GP consult, feed him lunch and hung out with him while the effects of the anaesthetics wore off.

From there, Bill tag teamed with Rob Brown to take him back to his place after his GP appointment. Rob works near the airport. Somewhere in the days before, I had suggested Marty stay with Rob overnight and go straight to the airport. I was still curled up in bed with the flu.

He sensibly did this.

We got through the week with the amazing help of three wonderful friends. Marty boarded the plane for NZ, and I went back to sleep. He had a wonderful time playing with his daughters and their families. The videos calls and photos with the grandchildren made my heart sing. He looked so happy.

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When common sense failed me

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My very heavy 20l water containers.

Common sense completely failed me Tuesday just gone. The beautiful twilight and new moon was the setting for a domino-like cascade of events.

I was enjoying the twilight and the sound of water passing me by as I pottered home from work in my dinghy. I decided that I would fill up our three spare 20 litre water bottles.

The main challenge with being on anchor is topping up our water supplies.

3 x 20l water containers
3 x 20 litre water containers

Note – we carry about 600 litres of water in our water tanks and have the three 20 litre containers for back up runs.

To top up the water tanks we have a few choices:

Take a marina berth for a night or two:
– Top up the fuel at a fuel dock and top up the water at the same time
Go to a public jetty that has:
– enough clearance for our boat keel and the ability to tie off
– potable water

It was a beautiful twilight and topping up the water containers seemed like a good idea.

The fresh water pump was starting to work hard telling me that it does not have much water left to pump.

Arriving home, I tied off in my usual manner after tying the painter line (the rope on the bow of the dinghy) on the cleat, and looped up the remaining line, hanging it off the stanchions. As usual, Zac was there to great me. We said hello to each other as I grabbed the water containers, the hose and the rubbish bag, jumped in the dinghy and headed off for the jetty.

I slowly approached the shore side of the jetty giving the eager fishermen a chance to pull their nets in.

I tied off, jumped out of the dinghy and asked a few of the fisherman how they were going as I headed up the ramp to dispose of the rubbish in the nearby bin.

On my way back down the ramp, I stopped and spoke to the couple who were fishing near the potable water tap. I informed them that I needed to fill some water containers. No worries, he said with his lovely accent and a grin.

I jumped back in the dinghy and headed around to the other side, taking a wide berth to avoid nets and lines. I pulled up. Eager hands tied me off and I was asked to pass up the hose. This I did, and was then asked for the male fitting.

Damn, common sense failed me. I did not check the hose when I grabbed it and I had left the tap fitting on the boat.

With the hose, we could fill the containers with out lifting them in and out of the dinghy.

No worries, my new friend said and he asked me to pass up the water containers.

This I did and he started to fill them for me. The first one he filled to its full 20 litres. I jumped out of the dinghy and asked him to fill only to 15 litres as 20 litres is too heavy for me. He said, ‘I fill, you tip out if it is too much’. I tipped out about 5 litres from the first container. The other two he filled to about 18 litres.

He lowered them to me in the dinghy and with lots of thank you smiles and waves, I headed back to Saboteur. I tied off in my usual way.

Now I don’t know what happened to my common sense. In what universe was I in that I thought that I could lift an 18 litre container of water to shoulder height is beyond me.

And transfer it on the deck, in a moving boat where any transfer of weight moves the location of the dinghy.

What could possibly go wrong? You are about to find out.

For whatever reason I gave it a try. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should tie the container off. It remained a thought. I got the container on the edge of the toe rail and the dinghy started to move backwards. The more I pushed forward, the more the dinghy moved backwards.

The inevitable happened: commons sense hit home with a dramatic splash as the water container feel into the river. I watched, waiting to see it sink. It bopped along. It appeared to have enough air in it to keep it on the water surface. Awesome.

I untied the paynter line and went in pursuit of the water container. Only, once again common sense failed me and I forgot to grab….

…. the loops of line hanging off the stanchion.

Dinghy paynter up close.
Dinghy paynter for afar

This, I discovered, made the dingy jerk backwards, still constrained. I turned the tiller, well I had no choice, and said line was now pushing hard on the post holding my safety navigation light up.

And with a snap it broke off and a flashing light began drifting away just under the water surface.

I got back to the boat and removed the looped painter line and turned to look for my water container. It was a new moon and by now quite dark. Fortunately, the flashing light was showing me the direction of the current. And beyond the flashing light, I saw my water container.

Relief… I personally would have hated to run into it, or to be responsible for any damage to someone else’s boat if I did not retrieve it.

I caught up to my bopping navigation light. I slowed my outboard and put my left arm elbow deep in the water to grab the light. Light recovered. I was pleased. My next task was to grab the water container. I caught up to it and tied it off. Finally, common sense prevailed. I turned back to Saboteur, with the water bottle still in the water, on a short line.

This time I tied off at the swim board, which is about 30 cms above the water line.

Saboteur's swim board. A much more sensible height to be working from

I got out of the dinghy and grabbed a line to tie off the first water container. I lifted it easily to the swim board. And again, up to the deck. I poured it straight into the water tank and put the water container away repeating the process with each water container.

I moved the dinghy back to the side of the boat and tied her up once more. The evening adventure was over. I know Marty (Martin Lloyd) is going to laugh. He always ties off the containers and uses the halyard to haul the containers up from the dinghy.

I sat down and took off my life jacket to give Zac the cuddle he was insisting on. I smiled at myself. This was the first time I had done the water containers on my own.

Another lesson learnt.

The irony is that I had purchased a small ‘kickarse pump in a box’ (yes, that is what it is called!) so that I never have to lift a full water container again. I got the 12 volt fitting installed in the cockpit a couple of weeks ago. I am just waiting for the Anderson switch to the 12 volt connector.

Life is an adventure.

Originally posted on Facebook on July 7, ’22

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A tad too far

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Our position on the chart

Yesterday’s adventure, Saboteur went a tad too far.

Midday, I received a message that it went like this.

‘Hi, this is Jeremy, from Maritime Safety Queensland. Tess can you please call me back. It is fairly urgent’.

Already my mind had reached the conclusion that the boat had dragged. The two outcomes could have been either we had hit another boat or we had drifted into the main shipping channel. Nether option is desirable.

I phoned Jeremy back. The call went like this.

Me: ‘Hi Jeremy, Tess here. You left me a message.’

Jeremy: ‘Hi Tess, thanks for phoning me back. I am trying to get hold of Martin Lloyd; however he is not answering. Your name is linked to his. Do you know him?’

Me: ‘Yes, I do. He is my husband. He is currently overseas.’

Jeremy: ‘That explains why he did not answer the phone. We were worried because your boat is in the main shipping channel. It appears to have drifted. When Martin did not answer we were worried that he was not well as the dinghy is tethered to the boat.’

Me: ‘That’s because I paddled my kayak to work. Left the dinghy behind.’

Jeremy: ‘You work nearby?’

Me: ‘Yes, I am working for a shipwright and currently working on a boat at Rivergate.’

Jeremy: ‘We need you to move your yacht out of the main shipping channel.’

I am guessing Saboteur was more than just a tad too far.

Me: ‘I can understand that. How urgent is this. Do you want me to move it now, or can I move it around four-ish?’

Jeremy: ‘I will check, just one second. (pause) There are no large vessels going down the channel for the rest of the day. You can move it this afternoon.’

Me: ‘That’s great, I have to paddle back to the boat. I will move it around four-ish.’

I immediately jumped on the link Daniel Cooke had sent me off a bigger anchor for sale on Gumtree. A quick email followed asking ‘Is it still available?’ The reply was prompt, ‘Yes it is’. I phoned the number. Ironically, it was someone we had meet at Boat Works Marina. They have two cats aboard and like us are preparing for a big sail. Great, new anchor sorted…

Now to inform my boss. I had to solve another problem and then move our boat. I informed my boss of that Saboteur was a tad too far in the shipping channel. Along with the fact that I believe we had lost reverse gear on the weekend (post Martin leaving). I was a little concerned that I may not have forward gear as well. Well, you never know. He rightly said, before I lift the anchor, I should check that I have forward gear. Sound advice.

I went to the mechanic’s ‘Lex Baddiley Marine Engineering‘. I found Paul (the boss) working on the boat next to us. Their company was also doing the work on the prawning trawler that I am working on. I explained to Paul the situation with reverse gear. If said it is one of two things. Most likely an adjustment needs to be made and it should be OK. He said that he will organise one of his guys to come to the boat with me at lunch time today. Another problem sorted. One more to resolve before I leave to move the yacht.

I headed to the marina office to explain my predicament and that I needed to move to move the yacht, plus I had some gear issues. One of the mechanics was coming with me to the boat (in the dinghy). I had approval to tie off my kayak of at Rivergate Marina but, I did not have approval for my dinghy. They said that it would be OK. They also commented that they had seen Saboteur in the middle of the channel.

I said thank you and headed off to my kayak, and paddled back to Saboteur, grateful for the current being in my favour. With current, the paddle is 15 minutes. Against the current, the paddle is 45 minutes.

It was a swift trip back. I said hi to Zac, and we had a few cuddles. It turned on the engine, wind instruments, autopilot and the engine blower. The engine blower extracts engine fumes. I checked the position of the anchor. The chain was forward off the bow of the boat. I came back to the helm, and the instruments were all working. I took a deep breath and checked that we have forward gear. Woohoo!!! Happy dance! I put the engine back into neutral. I went and checked the position of the anchor chain. It was vertical, confirming the boat had moved forward. I put the engine back into gear, and started lifting the anchor chain. All good.

I headed off to our old anchor point across the river, lined up the position, slowed the engine and put it in neutral. I locked the direction of the wheel and went forward to the bow to drop the anchor. As the anchor lowered I counted the 5 meter chain markers and set the anchor position on the anchor watch app. This app tells me if we move. Actually the alarm is a car horn. All that remained was to see if the anchor had taken. We had a swift current which pushed the back boat nicely. The chain went taut as it took the tension, and the anchor bit in. Again, very happy.

I was feeling relaxed and calm.

Everything I could do was done.

Time for a cuppa.

I was sitting on the deck and our old neighbour Mike came over in his dinghy on the way home from work. He had a big grin on his face. He was happy to see us. We talked for about 15 minutes or so, me sitting on the side of the boat and he in his dinghy. He was keen to go to his boat and play with his dog.

There was heaps to catch up on. Most importantly his boat did not move during the floods. He told me the sad story of two boats that were nearby, and how their owners had died in the floods and their boats had sunk. One guy was on land and decided that he wanted to remove his possessions from his boat. Sadly, it cost him his life. The other guy, decided to take a leak over the side of his boat. While doing so, his boat was hit by something and he fell overboard and drowned. It is a stark reminder that we have to respect the environment we are in.

I was so happy to see Mike and know that he was OK. He has kindly said if I need any help, just call.

And so, I went to work today in the dinghy. At lunch time, Phil came back to the boat with me and worked on the gear issues. The gears move so smoothly now. It is a dream. Now undo two years of forcing the gear stick into reverse. I took Phil back to the marina in time for both of us to pack up and head home.

I am grateful for many things. Mostly for the quality of people around me. Paul, Phil’s boss and who’s staff are all flat out for giving me Phil for a couple of hours to sort my reverse gear issue. Jeremy for phoning to tell me the boat was dancing along the main shipping channel. Mike, my neighbour who offered to help me with anything. Shannan, my boss for being totally understanding about having to disappear and always there to help out.

I love this industry and working with a great crew. I love how the people around me look out for and help each other.

Missing you baby. Martin Lloyd, you are missing out on so much fun. 🙂

Originally posted on Facebook on April 28, ’22

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Life is an adventure

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I would love to be putting up a chill time video. Unfortunately, not. life is an adventure. The weather conditions are making it prohibitive. Instead, you are about to get an update on our overnight adventure.

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On our wedding anniversary and all. In my sleep-deprived state, I smile once again at the words that my brother-in-law wrote in the wedding card that he and Barbie gave us. He said, ‘To Tess: You have taste and a taste for adventure.’

So here we are, on another adventure. Martin came home from work soaking wet. He rode his bike from Capalaba to Coomera in horrendous rain. He parked the bike, walked about 30 meters to the dinghy and had to bail the water out before heading to the boat.

Mental note. A small built in hand pump required for the dinghy.

He arrived on the boat, soaking! He peeled of his leather jacket which was super heavy, soddened with rainwater. His waterproof trousers (the ones that you wear over your trousers (sexy – not)) were clinging. Yes, they are truly waterproof, however they appear to have suction capped themselves to his jeans. They peeled off inside out. We laughed. Happy anniversary baby.

During the day I had sent him a message to pick up some bubbles as we are out. The message went via a work colleague as Martin’s phone had taken a swim in the salt water in the bottom of the dinghy when we were riding the wake of a passing cruiser. The message to pick up the bubbles did not make it to him. No problems. He had a hot shower while I prepared a ‘Saboteur Sling’ in lieu of champagne. A ‘Saboteur Sling’ is based on the Raffles Hotel ‘Singapore Sling’, using whichever ingredients we have from the Singapore Sling. This time we had no Gin. No problems.

I made us a special dinner, peeled green bay prawns (for what felt like forever) while Martin familiarised himself with the unfolding local weather situation. Prawns peeled, capsicum and carrot finely sliced, three cloves of garlic chopped up. Rice noodles soaking. I pan fried the garlic and the prawns in Sesame Oil and tossed in some chili flakes followed by the noodles, soy sauce, and fish sauce. Added bean sprouts, capsicum and carrot a few more quick tosses in the wok and I served up with a dash of lemon and alpha sprouts on top.

We sat down to our wedding anniversary dinner and our Saboteur Sling, served in our gorgeous crystal champagne flutes and started talking about the strategy for the evening. Not your typical wedding anniversary conversation. We were going to have to do watches. With the plan in place, we settle in to watch an episode of ‘Star Trek’. Navionics beside me to keep an eye on our position and bopping up into the cockpit like ‘Dicky Knee’ (A puppet from the TV show Hey, Hey, It’s Saturday’).

Martin was on watch, while I try to catch some zzz’s only to be woken soon after by Martin, informing me that we were rapidly drifting. I get up, wet weather jacket on and I headed up to cockpit. The buoy that was normally behind us was now in front of us. In sheeting rain, I headed to the bow to raise the anchor. We were drifting backwards towards a small, wooded island.

The visibility was next to nothing.

I raised the anchor. It clears the water line. I heard a grind; the anchor winch jammed. It is jammed by fishing line wrapped around tree branches. Yes, lucky us. I took over the helm and Martin grabbed my fishing knife. Meanwhile, with poor visibility I steered Saboteur between a small sailboat and our neighbouring catamaran named, ‘By Crickey’. Well, it was certainly a By Crickey moment. We were doing approximately 1 knot into the current and the Southerly winds. Meanwhile Martin was cutting away at the fishing line that was firmly caught up in our anchor winch. He cleared the winch. I turned the yacht to travel with the running water and the wind behind us.

We went from travelling 1 knot to 8.5 knots.

That was serious fast for our yacht. Don’t forget she weighs in around 20 tonnes. I lowered the motor speed. Our speed over ground (well, speed over water) did not change. We were moving at the speed of the current. Not ideal as this meant we had limited steering control over our yacht. While we were in the centre of a relatively straight passage it was fine. Corners would be a different story as our twenty tonnes will heavily influence how fast we would take a corner, or not. We don’t have to worry about that now.

We needed to drop anchor. But where?

Martin took the helm. He dropped the anchor from the cockpit midway in the passage. We swung swiftly and pulled up hard. Brilliant, we were confident the anchor had taken. We were midstream. Smack bang in the middle of the channel. We were also midships to a row of navigation lights at one of the boat ramps. This is really useful as it gives us a reference point to check if the lights don’t line up we have moved. Our strategy is to check the lights line up every 15 mins or so (Dicky Knee style popping up into the cockpit) and watching Navionics.

We both stayed up for a while. We played a game of Bananagrams and then watched an episode of ‘Cowboy Bebop’.

Martin was getting tired and went to bed for about 2 hours. I watched the remaining episodes of Cowboy Bebop keeping an eye on our position on Navionics and popping my head up into the cockpit every 15 mins or so.

Martin woke about 1pm, and we talked for a bit. It is a bit of sleep deprived haze. I think we had a cup of tea before I headed to bed close to two pm, waking around 4ish. I rose and asked Martin if he wanted to go to bed. He offered me an extra couple of hours sleep. I went back to bed and woke up around 6ish.

Kettle on, Martin updated me on the weather conditions, and I learnt Marty had already bailed the dinghy out. The water level was up to the dinghy seats. That is a lot of bailing. When he is up next, we will need to bail it again and hoist it back on the boat. He headed to bed and I took over the watch. I was going to sew, however I grabbed my laptop and decided to pen this update for you. I am constantly checking our position.

At around 8am this morning it was high tide. This means the current was meant to slow and turn. However, with so much water coming down and running out of the river the current is not turning anytime soon. The shores have mild flooding. The ducks are out and about and loving it.

Marty and I will tag team this morning, while we both catch up on sleep. I will probably finish my cushions today. This afternoon we will probably be awake together until about 10pm. If the weather continues we will do another night of split shifts.

Loving our adventure baby. Happy anniversary.

Originally published on Facebook on March 29, ’22.

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In Our Journey

See you soon Moo and Nitro.

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We’ll see you soon Moo and Nitro. As our voyage to NZ approaches, weather window permitting, the hardest thing I have had to do so far is to say to Moo and Nitro: ‘Have fun and be good for Jo and Tim Tim and Jo Hayter. Monday, I handed over Moo and Nitro to Jo and Tim for what is most likely going to be around a year. I picked them up and placed them on their cushions in Jo and Tim’s car, gave them both a pat and a smile, turned around and walked to my car as if it was normal. Thank God for Bill Fuller who came with me just in case I was a blubbering idiot, crying. Marty (Martin Lloyd) was working.

Deep sigh as I write this.

The last weekend with them was beautiful. Lots of cuddles and activities. They got washed and trimmed. This is not their favourite activity, however I wanted them looking their best for Jo and Tim. Hand over day was Monday. Sunday evening my heart was aching.

I spent time in the cockpit with Nitro on my chest and Moo curled up under my legs. We stayed like this for ages. There was a dull pain in my chest that was overwhelming.

We rescued these two forlorn dogs 5 years ago. I say rescued as they were neglected. Their nails were long, curled and growing into their pads and their breath was rotten. Moo Moo’s gums were bleeding. They were living with a family. It was clear the mother loved them, however somewhere along the way their maintenance care was left behind. As we drove away with the two scallywags in the car, we had to wind the windows down as their breath was so bad we were gagging, and so we continued on the motorway at 100 km an hour with the windows down.

After a check-up with the vet and a second visit to sort out their teeth, and with 17 extractions between the two of them, we took our two free dogs home, all of sudden much more financially drained than we were two weeks prior.

Our lives have been enriched ever since.

We were intending to fly them to NZ after we arrived by boat, however our plans have changed as Marty has a contract in the Philippines, starting in April. While we could take them with us, it is very hard to get them back into the country, simply because Australia and New Zealand have a lot less disease than most of the rest of the world and the quarantine process is extensive.

So it became a question, does Marty go to the Philippines and I stay and look after the fur kids. Last year we were having lunch and discussing this with our friends Jo and Tim who without hesitation offered to look after the dogs. They had just recently moved off their yacht back to land, and now live beside a park on the waters edge. Their connection to the water is strong. They offered to put up a fence and the rest is history.

I had started calling it a co-parenting relationship. I had also said to myself, they (the dogs) are teenagers exploring the world. I am comforted by the fact that Jo and Tim know and love the dogs and the dogs them. This was reinforced on handover day. We pulled up, the dogs jumped out of the car, spotted them and skipped over to them, eagerly wagging their tails and asking to be petted.

It made me smile.

Wind back 16 hours, my heart was wrenching on Sunday night. I started reflecting on a traditional Vanuatuan adaption process. There is the ‘white man’s’ paperwork and then there is the Islander, gifting ceremony. This is where the family gives their child to the new family.

It is not uncommon that a family who can’t have children are asked if they would like one, and a family would conceive a child to give to a childless family. It is an incredible gift.

Some arrangements will see the child grow up, spending time with both families. In others, the birth parents have regular contact and join in on special occasions, and others will have limited contact after the gifting ceremony. I think it is one of the most precious gifts of joy you could ever have.

And so, I have chosen to look at our co-parenting arrangement as giving and sharing the joy of our two cherubs. Bon journey, my wee little travellers. We will see you soon.

Thank you Jo and Tim.

Originally published on Facebook on 02/01/22.

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Selling the car

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Silver Prius

I loved my car. Yes, past tense. I sold him last week. In my mind, his nickname has been Silver. Original I know. Silver is a 2008, Prius Hatch-back. He has been perfect and one of the best decisions I ever made. For comfort, reliability and cost efficiency. I looked after him and he, me.

Selling the car changes everything in terms of practicalities. There is after all a limit to how much we can carry on the bike. And at this stage, I am not sure how I will get Zac to the vet next time he needs to go. Notwithstanding, there seemed little point in keeping a car that I am not intending to be around to use. With the decision made and the car sold, we are less attached to the land. Consequently we have to be slightly more organised.

There are two big differences not having a car.

The first is pace.

Our pace has slowed down a notch or two. You just can’t jump in the car and duck around to the corner store or to the bottlo for things we forgot or want on a whim. We can’t just dash out to the chemist, or the doc as easily as we used to. It now takes a little planning.

Instead, we have our eScooters, to which we can hook a couple of grocery bags on the handlebars and scoot along the river to the local at Hamilton (or wherever we are anchored). It is a wonderful way to go shopping. We explore, we see more things, discover new bakeries (Marty aka Martin Lloyd), coffee shops (both of us), the occasional ice-cream parlour and trees to sit under.

The second difference was the experience.

Alternatively, we have Marty’s Duc (Ducati ST2 – this simply means there is a seat for me on the back). I love being on the back of the bike surrounded by sky, feeling the sun through my helmet and jacket, the breeze kissing us as we go. Being a part of the universe, fully connected to the world. I have total trust in Marty and relax with my left hand gently holding on to a side strap on his jacket and my right-hand moves, from his jacket to my thigh to the grab bar at the back. And occasionally, I swap hands.

We used to go for rides a lot when we first started going out. As life got busier, it fell away. We are doing a lot more things we use to do again. It is lovely.

The bike requires us to grab our boots, jackets, helmets and gloves and put them all in the dinghy for the ride to shore. Marty, typically, puts his boots on before getting in the dinghy. Me, I like being bare foot as long as possible. The rest of our kit, we don’t don until we are at the bike, as it is too hot. Occasionally we forget things. Yesterday I forgot my socks realising as I was putting my boots on in the dinghy. Marty forgot the bike key realising when we had tied up the dinghy and had got to the bike. He went back to the boat to get the bike key and I forgot to ask him to grab some socks for me. I laughed. At the end of the day it does not matter.

I have also been taking public transport. I enjoy it. Typically, I am not in the peak hour rush. Here we have two options. We have the Ferry at Hamilton North. It is wonderful to sit on the ferry and cruise up the river. If need be, I change to a train which will get me almost everywhere I need to go. I take my laptop, find the quiet carriage and sit and write, do emails and get things done. And occasionally look outside the window as the world passes me by. There is a train station a good walk from where we are. So that would be a scooter ride and train trip. I am enjoying the transition.

The outcome of selling the car is that we are enjoying slowing down a notch, are more connected to the world around is and slightly more organised.

It is a life less hectic.

On a final note; on selling the car, it was important to me that he went to someone who would look after him. I am thrilled that a lovely young dental student bought Silver as her first car. I know she will look after him. It is funny, even letting go. I needed Silver to go to someone who would love him.

#Downsizing #SailingSaboteur #boatlife #alifelesshectic

The very practical hatch carried so much.

Originally posted on facebook on January 18, 2022

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Christmas anchoring adventures. 25 December 2021.

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For our Christmas anchoring adventures, It was 10.30ish when the storm had passed. The air was heavy with damp. It was humid from the summer storm. At the same time, it was pleasant as there was enough breeze to take the edge off the humidity.

It had been a long lunch. A long Christmas lunch that had rolled into the afternoon and then evening. Great company (Bill Fuller and David John Dabrowski), great food (thank you Bill) and conversation. Until we were slowing into a food coma, sprawled out across Bill’s lounge fighting for control of the remote as we listen to rock videos. Starting with Feliz Nadidad.

We arrived back to the boat ramp full, content and ready for bed. We put the dogs in their life jackets and our Christmas loot in the dinghy and plunked our very full selves in there as well and commenced the short commute from the jetty to the yacht. As we rounded the corner of the jetty, we could see that our yacht was no longer on the outside of our neighbouring yacht, the Tardis II. Curious. As we approached, we knew they were too close together for comfort. As we closed, we could see my fishing rod was broken, snapped and sadly hanging off the stern, the first sign of the misadventure. Little did we know at that point in time more was to come.

We thought the Tardis II may have drifted. It had.

We snapped out of our indulgent haze to be wide awake. Obviously, we needed to move away from Tardis II. Marty (Martin Lloyd) starts Saboteur’s engine and I go up the front to raise the anchor. This is done with an electric winch as there is no way I would be able to lift 30m of chain and an Excel anchor weighing 32 kilos. As the anchor breaks the surface I involuntarily say ‘whoa’. Curious as it’s not an expression I really use. However, that is what came out of my mouth. Marty shouts “what did you say, you have to speak up”. I walk back to the cockpit and tell him he needs to check it out for himself. We had lifted not only our anchor but another anchor chain and yet another, both wrapped around our ours. We had two alien anchor chains hooked onto our anchor.

There was no way I would be able to lift them off. So I take over at the helm and Marty inspects the situation. He grabs the boat hook hoping to release one chain. That was never going to work. Each chain was twisted and holding the other in place. Lucky us.

Some quick thinking

If we could lift our anchor on one of the halyards and rotate the boat we might be able to slip one anchor chain off. So, I jump in the dinghy and start nudging our boat. Marty says you will need more power than that and so I give her some more power. She is turning. Marty could rotate the anchor enough and the first chain slipped back into the darkness of the water. Brilliant, one down and one to go. The second chain is draped over the anchor shank and cannot be persuaded to slip off as it keeps catching on the anchor blades.

We are assessing the situation and realise the only way to get the second chain of is to remove our anchor chain. This requires us the continue to lift our anchor on the halyard high enough that we can undo the D shackle. I raise the anchor on the halyard winch at the mast. Marty goes downstairs to grab the tool to undo the D Shackle. We have another problem. The nudging the boat to turn… well she was still turning. The first turn we both ignore thinking that she would slow down and while she was close Tardis II, she was not going to hit. But on the second turn I am on the boat hook having to push our stern of Tardis’s bow. Meanwhile Marty is still downstairs.

We are still turning, and drifting.

With the drift we are getting closer again. The next turn I and have to push from about 2 meters from our stern. I know the next turn I would not be able to stop the collision. I throw fenders over the side (love our set up for the fenders, super easy and quick).

Then I jumped on the helm and took her out of neutral into reverse. I give it a squirt or two to move slightly away from our nemesis. Remember we are still hooked to an anchor chain. Which now has at least three more twists in it.

Marty appears in the cockpit once again. I put the boat back into neutral and join him. The extra twist in the chains is not helpful. Marty manages to undo the pin in the D Shackle however the extra weight on the chain was making it very hard to remove the pin. Somehow together we managed to pull the pin out, releasing our anchor from the entangled chain. I am back on the winch and lift our anchor higher so that we can now swing it over the safety line and lower it onto our deck. We leave it in place and head out into the main channel. By this stage it is around 12.30pm.

We had to reconnect our anchor chain to the anchor and put it back in place on the bow rollers ready to re-set. But more importantly work out where we were going to anchor. Marty says take us somewhere safe, as we need two sets of hands to manoeuvre the anchor. When we had plenty of sea room we locked the steering wheel and set about resecuring the anchor to the chain and then put it back in place.

The only decision now is where to anchor.

We did not want to be anywhere near the Tardis II. We pick our spot, closer to one of the prawning trawlers. Drop anchor. Let it grab. Damn we drifted back too far. I could not really see how much chain we had out in the dark. I grab my head torch off Marty, raise the anchor and we try again. Bingo… Got it this time. We dropped thirty meters of chain.

What a night, we make a cup of tea and sit for a bit. Until our weariness took over. Time to go to bed. We’re both covered in mud. My gorgeous silk dress… covered. I soak my dress, to wash it properly in the morning. It is time for a shower.

We were not looking forward to seeing what damage had been done to our boat.

In the morning, I get up and step over on to the swim board and have a look. The side of the hull, near the fishing rod is grazed. It will probably polish out. The anchor left a small gouge in the forward hull which probably won’t polish out.

We learn the next day from speaking to other’s here that this is a common problem. The owner of the Tardis II apparently lives on another boat in the area and is an unpleasant character. On each of his boats he puts out about 50 to 60 meters of chain. Which means his boats will drift on their chains great distances. We are not the first boat to have had our anchor chain caught up. Apparently, he does not care.

Furthermore,

We learnt that in the 2011 floods, many boats attempted to take shelter in this bend in the river. However, a few of them snapped their anchor chains here and there are a lot of chains and anchors at the bottom of the river in this bend. I am sure there is money that could be made if anyone wanted to pull them up.

With each crazy mishap and adventure, I love the feeling of overcoming the challenge. I am also becoming more impatient for our trip to NZ to start.

Love our crazy life.

Will add photos later. It is too depressing to take the photos of the damage.

Originally published on Facebook on 28/12/21.

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After the rain comes sunshine and maintenance.

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After the rain comes sunshine and maintenance.

Why maintenance you ask?

The reality of living on a boat is that there are sometimes leaks. Boats are designed to be flexible to move and bend with the elements that they are in. Like high rise buildings have a sway element and aircraft a flex element.

And so it is with boats.

Queue music: 5th Dimension singing, ‘Aquarius – Let the sunshine in’

After each rainy period, our routine is to walk around the boat to check both that earlier repairs have actually worked and to look for any new issues in need of repair. Leaks can come from many areas; port holes and hatches whose seals are giving in after 31 years of service, along with any fittings that are bolted through the deck. With our recent two weeks of rain we discovered a new leak. This one was of greater concern for me than normal. Not for any sensible structural reasons, but more so because it was leaking into my clothes cupboard.

I barely got through downsizing my beloved wardrobe without counselling. And certainly not to have my few remaining clothes (yes, few Martin Lloyd) to be damaged by mould when it rains. And so, prior to the most recent rainy period, we dismantled the cupboard ceiling to trace the leak to its origin. We discovered the leak was coming from where the stanchions (these hold our safety lines in place) bolt through the deck. It was leaking because the company who did the work on our deck when we replaced the teak did not seal the holes where the stanchions bolt through the deck, nor did they put two of the three nuts on the ends of the bolts. Let’s leave that there…

Suffice to say I was happy to have discovered the leak before any damage was done to my clothes. I was even happier when Martin repaired it. I am thrilled to confirm that with the last lot of rain, it did not leak.

After the rain came sunshine

Saturday morning, I woke with a smile on my face as my first task of the day was to return my clothes back to the cupboard. And in doing so, the bedroom started to resemble a bedroom once more. It made me super happy for the rest of the day.

Queue music: Cyndi Lauper singing, ‘Girls just want to have fun…’

#SailingSaboteur #BoatMaintenance #IloveSailing

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