It's all good ...

JB and his crew made room, so Kintala is sitting on the hard. Before she went into the lift we stopped at the pump-out. Backing out of the slip and over to that part of the dock went well, and it looked like I knew what I was doing. From the pump-out dock to the lift was a straight, in-reverse run of maybe two boat lengths. Within moments JB was yelling at me, Deb was trying to get a word in edge-wise, and Kintala was being her normal obstinate self in reverse. No excuse, I totally botched the approach to the lift pit. Which, I am going to claim, proves that I am an “open water” kind of guy who doesn't do well in the tight confines of being near land. In any case, for the first time in nearly 19 months our old Tartan is dry, sitting on her keel, and surrounded by support stands. Every time I get off the boat there is this little mantra I need to remember: “We are on land now, it is 12 steps down a very steep ladder, and one can get seriously hurt if one is not careful.”

Land, I have decided, is a dangerous place to be.

No wonder land dwellers show such obvious signs of stress and mental challenges. It doesn't help that we have been driving around. Apparently driving every day does something evil to one's psyche. What, pray tell, is wrong with these people getting too close, going too fast, talking on the phone, and clearly not paying much attention while getting too close, driving too fast, and talking on the phone? I really have no desire to share their apparent death-wish.

Almost 2 years in the water and this is how our Hydrocoat looks.

On the good side we can see that our bottom paint has done an excellent job; that our zincs are eroding too fast, that the stuff that comes out of the galley drain is hard on bottom paint, and that there is a small “smile” repair that needs done. I am reminded that living on a sailboat on the hard is a bit like living in a childhood tree house. Taken in the right frame of mind, it can be kind of fun. So long as it is temporary.

We are, as I suspect happens to most sailors who find themselves on the dry parts of Mother Earth, a bit overwhelmed by the list of things to do. The auto-helm, repairs on the fore deck, and bottom work must all be addressed before we find ourselves floating once again. Adding to the fun, sometime last night the manual windlass barfed its oil all over the fore deck. Not sure what happened, or why, but clearly that has to be rectified before we toss our heavy Mantus and a good length of chain back into the wet parts of Mother Earth. And there is something wonky with our Cape Horn Wind Vane that needs explained and addressed. It is a thing easier done on a step ladder than from a dink in a rough mooring field.

This, I remind myself, is as much a part of the cruising life as being anchored off of Crab Cay in the Abaco Islands. Cruising boats are beat up, battered, used hard, and pushed hard. We have found a good place, surrounded by friends, with family near by, to get ready for the next stage. Some of this time will be spent with Daughters (3) an grand kids (soon to be 9).

And that is all good.