Falmouth
Nimble Ape II
Chris and Jules Stanham
Fri 10 Aug 2012 16:29
The temptation of hot food,
alcohol and no night watches proved too great for us to go sailing by the
Scillies – though the official excuse was that three of us hadn’t been there.
Ricardo, Ian and Frank (the plank) had spent the day dismantling the outboard
motor for the dinghy, motivated by my certainty that they would not get the
damn thing to work. Yes, I have history with that engine and its moods. I was
rash enough to bet them they couldn’t get it started within 10 minutes, not
realizing I was up against such zeal and determination. While Frank played his
part holding the thing in place, the guys cleaned and rebuilt it completely
and, I am begrudged to admit, it started on the first pull (for the first time
ever). Ricardo was therefore doubly smug, having fixed the engine and proved
Frank’s worth. I will add at this point that he wasn’t so chuffed at the end of
the evening when he couldn’t start it for the return trip to the boat. It was
technically because he was using the wrong starter key, but the real reason is
the influence of drink. It didn’t bother marine boy Drew, who dramatically swam
back to the boat.
Drew stepped ashore on Friday
morning to make his way back Stateside, leaving the three of us to set off for
Falmouth for the last leg – probably the longest 50 miles of the whole trip. Having
survived lightning strikes, Force 8 winds, rationing and thick fog, the choppy
waters around the Lizard nearly did for Barra when a huge wave came out of
nowhere and knocked us over. I was just coming up the hatchway in time to
witness him at the helm hanging on for grim death with his body flying out
horizontally over a huge drop to the port side of the cockpit. Thankfully, some
bruising and a few wrenched muscles were the extent of his injuries – plus a
slightly longer right arm. I could tell by his face that he’d now officially
had enough. Ricardo, meanwhile, was somewhere on the ceiling in the forepeak.
Falmouth was a welcome sight
and we gingerly made our way in in not much water to an awkward berth into
which Ricardo somehow maneuvered. Chris claimed he was watching out for us to
come in, but missed us. I think he was actually inside, out of the rain,
watching the Olympics. I then headed to the hotel for the longest shower in the
world, while Ricardo and Barra descended on Falmouth.
So, we’re alongside in Cornwall,
mission complete – minus three buckets and at least two beer bellies. We’ve two
halves of a whisker pole, two split cruising chutes, a knackered main sail, a
few broken lines and shackles, a blown-up inverter, dead auxiliary battery, a blocked
toilet and no gas. On the up side, we have a new main (albeit a foot short), an
improved genoa, considerably tighter rigging, a standby halyard, repaired
cockpit table, mended blinds in the fore peak, serviced winches, a shiny
outboard engine and a big piece of wood called Frank.
All in all, a costly trip -
but still priceless.
Jules