BACK AT MALTA

I am in deep trouble from all quarters – I have been remiss in posting blogs! So, before any more folk berate me for being an idle hussy, I am taking advantage of a very windy and rainy spell to down tools and get some words written. I do apologise for not writing, all excuses are no reasons in the end I suppose. But my excuses are good ones – to me at least. The main reason was I was too hot. Yes, I know it is hard for those of our friends in Scotland to understand, but it is true. We happened to be in Sardinia and the Aeolian Islands just north of Sicily for the 3 hottest months of the hottest and driest spell in any summer ever recorded. It was merciless – day after day over 40deg C, not a cloud in the sky. It was far too hot to go below, even though we had the whole boat covered in sunshades, and all you could do in the afternoons was sit in the cockpit and quietly melt into the woodwork. (And sew patchwork squares if the needle was not too big and heavy!) A little relief came at night when the temperature dropped to about 36 – 38, and we could have the fans on. Sleep was not the easiest as at times it was also quite humid. And the brain fried and went into a complete torpor. We did move the boat from place to place, setting out before the sun got up and hoping to be able to get it anchored and settled before the heat was too much. As we were restricted to day trips anyway due to failure of the self-steering mechanism (more later) this was not a problem, especially in the islands, and we did enjoy our time there. You will be given details soon.
As there has been such a time since the last blog update, it will be a backwards blog again, as I have to tell you all where we are now and then I can go back and fill you in with all the summer doings. We are back in Malta, with the boat up on sticks in the boat yard to get some work done. We called in at Gozo for a week or two ion the way back from Sicily and it was so great to meet old friends again. And in the boat yard we are in the spot next to the one we occupied when we were here last year – the furthest you can just about get from the loo and showers. This time we are living on board instead of going to a hotel and it is much better. We have a drainage system of a couple of jerry cans and all the comforts of home at the top of the ginormous ladder. This ladder we come to love but groan in despair when the thing you want is at the other end of it.
On the way from Sicily to Malta we managed to hit a fishing float device which the locals use to catch lampuki, one of the favourite fish. These are made of a polystyrene box covered in black parcel tape with a palm branch sticking out from the side. They are attached to the bottom by a long thick rope. The idea is that the lampuki like to come and rest under the shade of the palm branch and then the boat comes along and surrounds the buoy with a net and catches the fish. All well and good, except you cannot see these boxes in the water. And we were motoring along in the customary no wind situation and then there was an almighty BANG. Quick dive to turn the propeller off and then the observation that we were now stationary in a sea of polystyrene bits floating all around. And there appeared to be a rather large rope going under the hull. Horror and nightmare as it was difficult to figure out where we were caught and what to do. So we waited and slowly the rope began to sink a bit and an hour later we had floated free of the area. So what to do now. No wind meant motoring so we gingerly tried the propeller, sending if forwards and backwards and watched it spit more pieces of string, plastic tape and rubbish out. There is a cutter on the shaft just before the propeller and it was certainly doing something. But although we had propulsion it was not the same as before so it was a very slow journey to Gozo. So slow in fact we were too late to get in to the marina and had to anchor off. We were so tired, a little jaunt had turned into a marathon. However next morning we were alongside and happy to be “home” again, and in a very nice berth on the end of the pontoon so we could step ashore and not have to use the ladder over the bow – heaven.
So now we had another reason to go to the boat yard. We had already come to realize that there was a steering mechanism problem as Harriet and Terry were just refusing to steer the boat. We were having conversations such as
‘Dave,’
‘Yes, Jen’
‘This wheel is getting very stiff’
‘Nonsense, Jen, you are imagining it’
‘Nope, definitely stiff, can’t spin it with one finger any more.’
‘Hmmmph’
‘I think it is the rudder’
‘Can’t be the rudder, ‘cos then we will have to take it out, and that’s a nightmare, and awful and horrible and don’t want to go there. I’ll squirt it with WD40 that cures everything.’
A week later after many times a day anointing of the rudder stock with WD40 and much wiggling of the wheel by Dave, the time came to test the steering out. No improvement.
Another test, disengage the wheel and use the emergency tiller, maybe it was a problem in the linkage.
So we locate the emergency tiller from under all the junk in the back locker and put it on. This is supposed to let us steer the boat if the wheel gear breaks down, as it fits straight on to the top of the rudder itself. Now we find we can hardly budge the rudder at all. No way could we steer with it for real. The mechanical advantage built into the wheel steering was the only thing allowing us to steer at all, and no wonder the steering was heavy.
Now we had a very despondent Dave. The rudder will have to come off. Now he admits we should have had it off before, but was hoping to get away with avoiding it.
Then there is the eternal anti-fouling. The all singing, repels all, very expensive stuff we put on in Scotland after months of hard graft preparing the hull, has definitely not done what it is supposed to do. Not only are things growing in profusion, requiring a diver to do an underwater scrub when we had so much growth we could not go faster than 4 knts, but it is coming off. Big decisions to be made here.
So we arrived, were lifted out on the big travel hoist and propped up for the work to begin, and we are now in our happy chaos, all lockers appear to be emptied into the cockpit or the cabin, I am relegated once more to bilge renovation, and we end each day looking like little grubby urchins. Bliss.
Who said retirement meant rest and relaxation!
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