5/12/12

The Salila blog makes a return!

Well after 6 months of frantically doing not much at all at home, I’m finally back in Trinidad. After 3 hours sleep the night before, a 5am start, a long flight, and then Customs (who were, as always here, delightful). I was just checking Salila over in the dark (she’s fine), when some friends popped by and dragged me off to a “Shark & Bake”.

Apparently there’s a treble ruse going on  there. The “shark” in the title clearly entices you with ideas of shark to eat. But the rumour is that it’s not really shark because that would be environmentally unfriendly – but the third twist is that it really IS shark, but they don’t want to be closed down by the World Shark Police.

But enough of this, what about today’s exploits with the Vikings? For several days I have had some delightful Norwegians as neighbours. A very smart looking new boat, even if it does only have one hull.

I offered to help with their launch today, and Fred took me up. It was scheduled for 0830. By 1400 there had been lots of boats going in the water but not theirs. Right said Fred (been dying to get that in), “I’m going to have a word with the boss”!  The boss is a catamaran person (you’re either in or out), so we get on great. Now I already knew that the reason Fred was as yet “unfloated” was that a piece of special kit was needed to move him, and I happened to know that the kit in question was at that moment sitting under the bosses brand new, spanking shiny – catamaran. He’s built it himself here in the boatyard, and there’s drinks at 1630 tomorrow to see her launched. Pound says it goes in on time…

But back to the Vikings. They have a massive moving crane thingamyjig that picks the boats up and lowers them gently (usually) into the water. I had bravely walked along the tiny jetty, worked around the scary huge wheels and pipes (they’re hot by the way), to help with the mooring ropes.

Suddenly I was approached by a moustachioed wild thing with a bandana and fag, closely followed by a very strong smell of alcohol. He said something that only Tolkein would understand, and Fred acknowledged the remark. How is it that Norwegians can say “I’m intoxicated” in perfect English when they are?

Now I had taken up a strategic position on the aft mooring rope, ready to do serious manly nautical work, like letting it go. The Easy Rider throwback looked me in the eye (at least I think he did, the Easy Rider sunglasses let no light though) and said

“may I take your position?”.

I looked at him blankly. I’ve crossed an ocean, I’ve seen water before, and I’m perfectly capable of throwing this rope onto the departing boat at roughly the right time. “I’m doing this rope, there are three other corners to choose from”. I didn’t actually say that of course, I’m much too polite, and also a little worried that in changing places he’d overbalance and take me with him into the water.

“No, I need to take a pish”.

Rule 14 of the Ablett guide to life. Don’t interrupt a drunk taking a leak downwind into the harbour, you get wet feet when they turn round.

“Actually I’m on the run from prison. I’ve spent a lot of time lately in South America”.

This is the man with whom I’m sharing a dockside in Trinidad that’s just wide enough for the crane tyres. Apparently it was just  a minor misdemeanour but he was caught by the coast guard, in Northern Norway up near the Russian border, and they don’t like cars streaming sparks from wheels with no tyres…. I’m not making this up, honest.

He told me Fred is a policeman, so I’m not sure why he then got on his boat. He courageously took both bow ropes, one in each hand. As Fred gunned the motor in reverse he did a good impression of a medieval torture victim as the arms strained in their sockets. I could see that Fred was about to have another word with “Reymaaand” the engineer about his work, when he noticed he was trying to drag Trini south.

As I walked away from the dock I saw Freds blonde wife. “I think Willems had a bit to drink”. Classic Viking understatement.