Marianne Bartram
Life Aboard: August 2013
It could only happen on the Dart! A dinghy pulled up with three on board. I went on deck, they cheerfully announced that they were Jehovah’s Witnesses and offered me some leaflets! I opened my mouth but no sound came out (this doesn’t happen often!). When Hub emerged from the shower saying “Who was that?” I replied, “Jehovah’s Witnesses.” He said he supposed I thought I was being amusing.
This happened at 10.02. I can be sure of the exact time as Hub, realising I was never going to understand “two bells into second Dog watch,” bought me a Divers watch. He proudly announced that it was good down to 50 metres. Well, I don’t mean to seem ungrateful but I can’t help but reflect that if I am 50 metres down I have a lot more on my plate than the time. “Ooh look, its 3.48, I’m on the sea bed and that appears to be a shark . . . ”
One thing that is a menace to live aboard is constant maintenance, so why does it always turn out to be impossible? Take a lick of paint - according to the tin, I had to “remove all loose, flaking material”. Well, frankly, if I did that I’d be lucky to have a single plank left, given that our boat appears to be almost entirely composed of loose, flaking material.
Wood filling then – easy enough surely? I went outside and just as I was about to wield it, I read “ Product must not be used where exposure to wet conditions may apply”. I gave a short laugh as we boast many fine water features on our boat – though sadly all are unintentional. In fact one of the Dart’s finest shipwrights had the cheek to suggest that actually the best plan for one of the berths was to turn it into an aquarium. I am seriously considering this. Then again, this is the same shipwright who, when I fell down the companionway and knocked out two teeth, said not to worry about the gap – it would be give me a great place to put my pipe . . .
You need a sense of humour – only the other day I winkled out a 1mm blister on the deck paint to get back to solid dry wood. By the time I’d finished, it was like peering down a mine shaft!
Hub held my hand which would have reassured me except that he was below in the paint locker and I was standing on the deck.
It was then that I spotted a great grey seal just feet from the boat! We contemplated each other for some time – two completely different species sharing the same element. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times you encounter a seal or dolphin in the wild – it is always as magical as the first time. Sometimes they only stay for minutes but you find yourself smiling for hours.
At first, I couldn’t understand all the fuss about tides – I mean – up, down, in, out – who cares? I changed my mind whilst being swept at speed out to sea when the outboard failed and so these days when somebody peers about and mutters “neaps, neaps”, I no longer pat them kindly on the shoulder thinking that there is something clearly wrong with them. Deciding which way the tide is going is more complicated than I’d realised – peculiar suggestions include watching which way a seabird’s bum is going, but it’s often beyond me. Hub recalled some mariners saying that spitting is the best way. I am not usually prone to spitting but thought I’d give it a go so conjured up a mouthful and let fly. Honestly, I thought we’d never scrape it off his sailing jacket and there is still some in his hair. He is annoyed and I am none the wiser.
However, you do absorb the odd fact even if you have to learn it the hard way (tip: use the heads before you leave the boat as once ashore increasingly desperate attempts to disentangle yourself from full foul weather gear, life jacket, harnesses and assorted Velcro straps which wrap themselves around anything they can, risks it being perilously close to far too late).
Advice is always available though. We usually set off to the pub and ask something like, “What shall we do about our deck, then?”
Sailor One: “Clad it.”
Sailor Two: ”Are you mad? Worse thing you can do. No. Builders’ sealants the answer.”
Sailor Three: “Do what? – you’ll just be chasing leaks. Hot pitch and oakum’s what you want.”
Sailor Four: “Get out – nobody’s done that since Nelson’s day. Marine sealant, mate, only solution.”
Sailor Five: “Never! Costs the earth, that does. Just whack some new planks in.”
“Another round, anyone?” Ah, agreement at last! We return to the boat asking ourselves, “What shall we do about our deck, then?”
A friend is visiting and says there’s a Navajo tradition that if you haven’t seen somebody for a long time, you should both wrap yourselves in bark, float down the river and talk about old times. However, have just seen a battleship sized jellyfish with a lesser flotilla behind it so feel somewhat disinclined to do this!
Am off to inspect the contents of the “Grab bag”. This should contain all the essentials needed in the event of having to abandon ship. Just Gin and Loo Rolls, surely? •
First Published August 2013 By The Dart
