Lagos, Portugal
“Never waste
a good crisis,” pontificates friend, Peter Blain (with regrets to
Machiavelli). So here we are at last, making the
most of our time on the hard in the Sopromar Boatyard, having avoided a crisis
or two...
It all began
with a 5 hour delay in Sydney’s Airport.
Anxiety over this delay was further compounded by missing our connection
to Faro, Portugal. Heathrow in London is terribly unexciting.
(Imagine Central
Railway, Sydney. And you would never guess in coming weeks the UK was to host major
events, the Silver Jubilee and Olympic Games!!). After some misdirection we found ourselves on
a bus, Gatwick bound. Luckily, we were
put up in an airport hotel in Gatwick to wait the next day’s connecting flight
(the resort hopper).
Swollen ankles averted at least.
|
Good to be Home again |
Trying to
leave Gatwick however, proved to be somewhat more of a challenge. Our (return) tickets were outside the
Schengen approved 3 months stay and we could not fly……despite having an
ocean going sailboat in a yard in Portugal.
After much teeth gnashing, the situation was resolved by buying tickets (expensive, fully refundable. Oh, sure! ) out of Portugal to meet visa
requirements. Getting a refund later proved
to be somewhat trying too!!
|
View from Home (Old Town Lagos over the River) |
Finally
ensconced in the yard, the Captain began to set up WJ3, all ship shape. “Where are the charts?” he asked. GS stubbornly refused to accept any blame for
their still being in the upstairs desk on Dangar. With two new computers and no charts (on those
disks at home) we weren’t going anywhere in a hurry.
|
Even Bruce was feeling a little flat |
Meanwhile, our
trusty Captain’s wrist took on a life of its own. Unlike Dr Strangelove’s energetic arm, this
one refused to work at all. With one
hand left for work, GS endeavoured to reduce that to none. A quick attempt to jam his working hand in a
floor locker (unintentionally
of course!) produced
lots of blood, a nasty cut and very rude words.
|
And the spider's camera shy today.... |
So, here we sit
watching spiders set up home on our new feathering prop and waiting for duck
eggs to hatch. The Cap’n can barely lift
a beer. Either way, the Nortada (Portuguese trade
winds) are
still blowing strongly. We’re hoping to
catch them down east to Gibraltar sometime this season…. while it lasts.
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