A Frenzy of Activity Before We Head Out into the Pacific

A frenzy of activity before we head out into the Pacific. A list of what has and hasn’t been done on the yacht. All about the crew and shipboard life It’s Sunday: we’re fixing the shrouds and playing school. A lyrical introductory chapter 🙂 A truly magical day: we came up on deck in the morning, and the water in the bay was clear and blue. Blue, I tell you! What happened to the currents and whatever else is involved, we have no idea. We’ve been off Panama City for more than a month and have never once seen water like this. Nor, remarkably enough, did we see it in the paradise islands of Las Perlas . There’s some sort of suspended muck in the water, and its colour is like the Moskva River. No snorkelling or diving for you. We can only enjoy the scenery above sea level to the fullest. But today something changed. Photo looking down from the boat And we can see schools of fish and fry at a depth of about 2 metres—after the water had been completely opaque. We even decided to go for a swim. In the harbour, yep. We need to give our young sailor’s new fins a quick test. We can wash ourselves off afterwards :). Meanwhile, the captain and the senior sailor can make breakfast. Or do their schoolwork. We never did work out what caused this phenomenon—why the water had been brown and murky for a month, but is now blue and almost clear. Neither the winds nor the currents have done anything strange. Perhaps someone knows? And, of course, we urgently need to go to Las Perlas —perhaps paradise-blue water has arrived there too. Then we could watch rays from the deck or dive with a mask. I wonder whether this curious turn of events will last until we set off irrevocably into the Pacific, so we can stop at the islands en route in blue water. The Las Perlas Archipelago . The domestic chores are gradually under way Apart from the water, our current activities include packing the lockers and getting our teeth fixed. The senior sailor and the captain are already done. That leaves the young sailor and me. Although we do have a junior dentist’s tooth-extraction kit in the medical chest. And a scalpel, sutures, needles, and pliers, but we’d rather not let it come to that. Even though dentists here charge an arm and a leg.... The captain has decided to replace the shrouds today; he’s already hanging from the mast. It would be good to take the wind generator apart while we’re at it, but that means climbing the other mast. The young sailor is engrossed in an electrical construction kit that unexpectedly came our way on the other side of the Isthmus of Panama. Next on the agenda: entertaining Spanish grammar and mischievous maths problems. We received a parcel from Colombia, you see—and not just any parcel, but one devoted entirely to education. Thank you to our dear friends in Bogotá! . Another lyrical drop While we were on our way to collect the parcel, we walked past Panama’s most beautiful church, Iglesia del Carmen, and happened upon a wealthy Panamanian wedding at that very moving moment when the church doors swung open and a stately father in a black suit led his princess-bride daughter to the altar. Slowly, step by step, to that special music from American films that all brides are led to the altar to over there. We watched the film live, right from the church doors. Laduska sat on my shoulder and served as our pass with security :). Right, time for a swim before they turn off the blue dye. This is Panama City, after all :). 3 days until we head out into the Pacific. It’s begun! That time when leisurely preparations turn into semi-emergency ones... Tension among the crew is rising, and it’s running somewhat higher than it did before the Atlantic, even for our invariably calm captain. Perhaps it’s because the captain now knows that anything can break on an elderly boat, and at the worst possible moment. Or perhaps it’s because the to-do list still has 32 small items and 11 major ones left. Some of the latter are impossible. Such as the refrigerator and a new outboard for the dinghy; I won’t even take the generator and air conditioner’s names in vain—or at least a dehumidifier :). The galley So we’ll head into the Pacific without a refrigerator. But we did bring in a cooker. Three burners and an oven. And at last we’ve stopped producing all our culinary masterpieces on the one small surviving burner that had lost its mind. The cooker gleams beautifully in the middle of the galley, but has several serious shortcomings compared with its ancient predecessor (which, incidentally, served us faithfully for 30 years). You can see our old cooker here, as well as Nastya :) On the very first day, some flimsy pins fell off the new cooker, and then the first mate and the sailor successively cut their fingers on a sharp metal edge on the hob. It’s also difficult to pull the tray and rack out of the oven. You need the password to work out how. And I’m already tired of grumbling that for 1.5 thousand dollars they might have offered something besides design and a gas supply. We’ve bought a fuel tank for the dinghy; the old one cracked, alas. We found marine sealant, and the captain smeared a handsome coat of glossy black over the joints around the wheelhouse’s forward windows. We hope the water will no longer pour onto either the books or the shelf in front of the window. Could we still manage to sand and varnish it, so the first mate won’t be disgusted every time it comes to dusting!? And so the curtains won’t get wet and be unglamorously stained by damp old wood and varnish the colour of that particular kind of surprise. Though no, we won’t have time... — Skipping it. Raise the mizzen and mainsail booms and mend the sails — skipping it. Fix the wind generator. For some reason, it has stopped charging the batteries. — Skipping it. The sea anchor and teeth. We’re skipping the first. The second... Teeth on the shelf —is a matter of great importance, otherwise after crossing the Pacific the whole family will have to live on puréed soups. And dental treatment in Panama is nothing like Colombia. Prices are 2–3 times higher, and almost no one praises the quality. Had we known these details earlier, we would have lived in the waiting rooms of Cartagena’s dentists until they threw us out :). In Panama, you find dentists through recommendations. Prices start at 50 dollars for a filling (we haven’t encountered any for 50 ourselves, but people say they exist). There’s virtually no upper limit ))). We’re getting treatment at two places, depending on which has an opening. Judging by their appointment books, dentists here are clearly swamped. Or lazy... One or the other. We hope to get it all over with on Wednesday and set off. Photo to show off our teeth 🙂 . Shrouds A specialist shroudologist concluded that there’s no need to replace all the rigging yet. Mike the shroudologist ordered two upper shrouds for us from the States. Both arrived neatly coiled up “in a pizza box” :). Andrey replaced them in an hour; now a proper length of wire is tensioned where a rope had been for more than a year. Watermaker This time there will be much more comfort out on the ocean—we’ll have water in relative abundance. We won’t have to choose between drinking and washing, and can indulge in both. And once we’ve set off and the calms begin (which they definitely should, judging by what our predecessors say), we’ll scrub the yacht until she shines and rinse her generously with fresh water. At the moment, we ferry fresh water from shore in jerrycans, so we’re in no hurry to pour it over the deck. And we’ll start the watermaker in clean water. We have more than enough to do, so we decided to leave the washing until we’re out on the ocean. . Provisions Every day we go to the supermarket for food. It’s no easy task to stow tins, jars, and boxes compactly and conveniently so that they don’t get wet in the hold, aren’t rubbed through by their neighbours, and actually all fit. We’re buying tinned food, cornflakes, powdered milk, grains, and flour. Also nuts and dried fruit—if only we could find them at reasonable prices. There’s no condensed milk in Panama. There’s what Nestlé calls condensed milk (God forgive me), and some other brand’s version. The ingredients include everything from lactose to vegetable oil and sodium, except milk. It’s edible, but tastes like shit . And we like condensed milk with coffee and pancakes. We need to buy lots of eggs. And turn every one of them every day. And smear them with some sort of petroleum jelly too ))). Finishing jobs Finish sewing the awning and mend clothes. The sewing machine has been sitting on the main table for a week now, violating every tradition of shipboard dining. Seal everything. We’ve already applied sealant to the wheelhouse windows and the galley hatch; now we need to work out what to do about the leaking skylight above the heads. And we also need to remake the “skirt” around the mast, because all the floodgates of heaven run down the mast into the saloon, and for some reason the tightly fitted “skirt” doesn’t scare them off much. For this noble purpose, the captain even bought some remarkable toilet putty. Today: the test. ... The test showed that toilet putty is not suitable for a proud sailing yacht. We’ll remake the “skirt.” (When?) I’ve barely made it through the first third of the list. Perhaps I should wrap this up. I’ll go and sleep; maybe it’ll go away on its own :). Writing An incredible amount to finish writing and upload to the website. I’m afraid I won’t manage most of it. Plus, send three articles to the editor. Only two are nearly ready. At least send the photos; the text can follow from the ocean via satellite. Once upon a time, Jules Verne clearly had enough energy left for the “writing” item 🙂 In the next post: plans for the Pacific expedition (with a map), Galápagos entry formalities, and a little about Polynesia. Energy to you all!