An update from the crew
Yacht Ariel
Henry Adams
Mon 12 Nov 2007 11:17
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Ahoy
hoy,
Once again, my conscience presses me to apologise
for the gap between blog updates, as I am sure these are literary
highlights in your otherwise cloudy, cold and rainy English weeks. However,
from literally years of conditioning, I have gained the ability to completely
ignore my conscience, as it only ever seems to get in the way of what I want to
do - so no obvious apology (though some of you may convince yourselves you see
one in here - as with all great literature, I'm sure debate will
rage).
Anyway, what has the intrepid hero of these pieces
been up to in the week which has just passed? Well, he has been put to work like
a slave by the evil skipper in scorching temperatures (average day about thirty
degrees) with barely a pint or two in the evening to slake his overpowering
thirst. If, then, by a man's work shall ye know him, the crew has this week been
both a slave and a master craftsman, creating windvanes and various other highly
technical equipment (with the details of which I shall not bore you) with his
own hands and the paltry tools with which he is provided by the evil skipper,
striving to complete jobs on a magical list which, no matter how much is crossed
off, always appears to grow and grow.
Apart from working the crew has been rather
offended by Scandinavian (among many nationalities) hitchhikers, who go
around asking every boat if they need crew to cross the Atlantic, but pointedly
never ask our hero and it's clear (the almost frightened look in their eyes)
that they are in awe of the undertaking and feel they could not hold a candle to
the crew of Ariel. Contrary to mutinous suggestions I have heard bandied about,
it is not because we are just a tiny boat and they don't think there would be
enough room/comfort.It is also not because every other boat seems to be three
times the size of us (at least).
We also have to chat to the various random people
who seem to have access to our pontoon (through locked doors) without
having any actual connection to any of the boats thereto attached, and take
their surprise/disbelief/scorn with a smile. For the unitiated, I feel I should
provide some kind of translation tool to aid the comprehension of genral chit
chat one may hear on the pontoons around Las Palmas marina, particularly around
the end of pontoon 5 (where we're moored).
Hello there = Hello, please could you stop the job
you're obviously right in the middle and trickiest part of, so I could have an
inane conversation with you
Hi = My inate English politeness requires me to
stop in the middle of said job and respond to your enquiry, however, my aim is
to keep this conversation to a minimum length so I can get back to my work and
away from your enquiries, which, I must be honest, are unlikely to consisit
of anything I haven't heard already today.
Are you doing the ARC? = Can you really be doing
the ARC in that thing? I didn't think they allowed dinghies in. Why aren't you
in a lovely 40+ft boat like evryone else? Is there something wrong with
you?
Yes, we are = We've got the flag up, we're on a
pontoon with all the other ARC boats - isn't it a bit obvious? And you can
take that scornful questioning, almost pitying tone out of your voice as
well.
Very small boat = But seriously what are you doing?
You wouldn't catch me in that thing 1400 miles from land. I'd rather be in a
boat with an inboard engine and helicopter pad for emergencies.
Yes she is, but she's very sturdy and seaworthy =
Look we've got her here from England, we're more than aware that we're the
smallest boat (by a way) taking part in the rally and may come accross as a bit
strange. However, we obviously have implicit faith in the boat and all the
advice we've been given saying that safety-wise we'll be fine and realise that
we'll have to sacrifice our comfort for three and a half weeks. We have been
over all this for the last six months or so, so lets draw a line under
it.
Not going to be very comfortable = Nope, still
wouldn't get me on one of those things. Those young, so foolhardy and
ignorant.
It'll be okay, but we realise we'll have to
sacrifice some comfort = See above - brain now in freewheel.
How long do you think it'll take? = You seem to be
on a year out from your studies, but you can't want to take a whole
year.
About three to four weeks, but depends on the wind
= Yes that's right, we hopefully won't be the slowest boat.
Well, good luck then = Looks like you'll need
it.
Thank-you = Goodbye
This is obviously a slightly parodied version and
we do, contrary to all indications, welcome allcomers, as we realise that people
are just showing a polite interest, However, as has become obvious, you may get
a better response from the evil skipper, so try to talk to the balding brown one
and not the scowling pink one (as he claims he knows more).
So, what else has been occurring? Regular readers
will be as elated as the crew by the discovery that the evil skipper has
apparently been jilted by his lover, Anne Hammick. After literally tens of
emails being sent and nautical miles of unecessary sea being covered, Anne has
decided not to return any of Henry's emails. I believe this is due to her having
got all she wants from him and then discarding him, but Henry still reckons
she's going to send him her updated pilot of the Canary Islands - oh the
blindness of love.
We also went on a little jolly yesterday down the
coast to a place called Taliarte, during which the tables were turned and the
crew became the skipper for a part of the trip - oh the shame. Storm sails were
hoisted, reefs were put in, all in a pleasant force 1.5. We also practised some
man overboard recovery and had great fun trying to hoist each other out of the
water, while the other was pretending to be unconscious. The crew (the crew
again by this stage) had far fewer problems than the evil skipper, which can be
put down to his immense skill and strength and is nothing to do with, as has
been suggested in various irresponsible quarters, the weight discrepencies
involved. After such a stressful day's sail/motor, we rewarded ourselves with a
meal out last night - consequently, both got up a little later this
morning than we perhaps should have done.
Nothing much else to report, apart from the fact
that the ARC office opened today so we can finally buy some official stash! The
evil skipper is talking of seminars, but it's the stash that has excited the
crew. Parties also kick off tonight with some free drinks to be had (the crew's
favourite type) so, no doubt, more information to be given of goings on in a
little while.
Much love
Fosh
p.s. Lest you forget, or lest you know not, we are
looking to raise money for charity on this venture. If you go to www.justgiving.com/timothyfosh
there's some more information on the Samantha Dickson Trust (our chosen and very
worthy cause) and about our general aims; don't worry, that's written by me as
well.
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