Thursday 3rd December
Fenella
Thu 3 Dec 2009 13:42
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Crisis what Crisis
To paraphrase that role model for us all. Miles
Smeeton, anybody who takes a small yacht to sea for sport or adventure
has not the right to expect outside assistance should problems occur. The crew
of Fenella have attempted to follow this code but our present
crisis appears to be insurmountable without intervention.
In Las Palmas when a broken spreader was detected
it was fixed by the crew alone within 24 hours. When our alternator burnt out on
day two this was quickly replaced by the on board engineering department. With
our morse controls jammed in reverse gear a member of the starboard watch simply
grabbed the turning prop shaft - odd that it should be turning with engine off
and reverse gear engaged - to bring it to a halt and selected neutral with
his other hand.
When fishing had produced no fare for three days
the more Polyannaish crew members welcomed this as a release from the
slaughter of more of God's creations. The remains of a spinnaker sheet which now
trails behind with the fishing lures makes us look forward to the otherwise
dreaded calms so that we can go swimming. So what crisis has stumped this
doughty crew.
Last night whilst dining on deck by moonlight, who
says that The Grumpies lack a romantic streak, it came to light. The pan fried
pork fillet in a mushroom and claret jus had been served, the wine glasses had
been clinked in celebration and the wine bottle had been narrowly missed by a
large flying fish which decided to join us for the feast when someone asked for
the pepper. There was none. Fenella has been ransacked but to no avail, we
are clean out. With apologies to Blondie Hasler who suggested that rather than
ask for help a yachtsman should "Die like a Gentleman" we would ask
any yacht within vhf range to come to our
assistance.
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