Position: Alongside Blankenberge
Weather: Sunny, warm
We had a couple of wins today. First priority was getting some shopping in,
that done the next was getting some more gas to cook it with. Having slept
on the information obtained yesterday I had resigned myself to the
exorbitant expense of the camping gas and with a large empty back pack over
my shoulder I headed off to the chandlery. Here I was served by a different
fellow from yesterday and on making myself understood he suggested I walk to
the nearby caravan park, that they might be able to top up my existing
bottles. Sceptical but willing to try anything to lessen this ridiculous
cost for a few kilos of gas, off I set. It was s bit of a hike and I almost
gave up as my directions were rather vague and I thought I could end up
wandering aimlessly for an indefinite period. Beset with the problem of
whether to turn back and seek better guidance or to go on just around the
next corner I chose the latter and was rewarded with a view of a large
caravan park. But . no sign of a shop selling gas. I enquired of a resident
with a big propane bottle clearly in sight at the back of his caravan. He
spoke no English so no success in this line of enquiry, he pointed to a shop
only 30 feet away, it was a fish and chip shop. The girl behind the counter
spoke minimal English also and looked blankly at my questioning. I bought
an ice cream and sat out the front meditating upon what to do next. Ice
cream eaten and stick licked clean, I proceeded into the labyrinth of
caravans. It was a very tidy park, nearly all of the caravans were
permanent, each with their own fenced area and small neatly manicured lawns,
many of the occupants enjoying a Sunday barbecue in their little patios just
outside their front and only door. I reckon I could easily live in such a
place, probably all I could afford the way have chosen to live my life. I
suspect there is a stronger sense of community in such a village then in the
isolating sprawling suburbs which the more well to do live in. I asked
another resident who fortunately spoke good English, he pointed to a red
tiled roof standing proud of the low slung caravans, directing me to the
technical centre. Well the roof turned out to be the shower and laundry
block. As I turned the corner I a saw a man mounting a small tractor and
driving off. The doorway from which he had taken his departure was large
blue opaque and shut. I stood around for a while hoping he would return,
after 20 minutes I found the courage to knock upon the door, then opened it,
it was unlocked, and poked my head inside for a quick look around. It was a
technical centre alright or rather I would call it a large work shop. No
sign of any gas bottles but surely the occupant of this space would have the
answer. I waited for a further 20 minutes but still no sign of the
technocrat that lived within. I wandered over to the nearby café, thinking
to kill some time with a cup of coffee and perhaps find someone to make
further enquiries of. As I approached the café just beyond it I saw another
building which had a sign above it indicating it was a reception of some
description. I entered and spoke with a young man behind the desk. He spoke
fluent English and knew exactly what I wanted. In fact he could sell me
either a 10.5 kilo or 60 kilo bottle of gas. 60 kilos would have taken up
most of my cabin so I asked how much for the smaller bottle. All up
including regulator - 43 Euros. Perfect, over twice the gas for less than
half the price of the chandlery's camping gas. Now the next problem, getting
the gas back to the boat. No problem, the young man found someone to drive
me back in a small van. And he gave me a card so I could retrieve the 10
Euro deposit on the tank from Shell anywhere in Europe. Alleluia!
Back on board I soon had the bottle fitted and made a couple of teak chocks
to ensure the bottle would remain firm and secure at sea. Now I can relax
for a while, 10 kilos should easily last me a couple of months. Now I have
three different bottles on board, I wonder what my next bottle will look
like when this one runs out. I am tempted to head back to Ireland to get my
deposit back on their bottle.
With that major success for the day I spent the rest of the afternoon
dismantling the salt water pump again, to try a different adhesive on the
diaphragm, this one will need about 48 hours to cure so again I will cross
my fingers and hope for the best. Persistance.
Tomorrow we sail, for where I do not yet know so I had best do a little
planning before it gets much later.
All is well, and we're cooking with gas.
Bob Cat:
A good quiet sleepy day. Skipper Bob seemed in an unusually good mood this
afternoon, but it didn't translate into any improvement for me, still same
old hardtack. He did throw me a small morsel of bacon at dinner time, but
what meagre pickings, just enough to tease me and have me dreaming
deliriously tonight, which is now, so time to dream on ... Zzzzzzz.
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