The Charm of Slow Travel

The Charm of Slow Travel. A Captain’s Notes. What is the charm of slow travel? There is no need to rush anywhere every day to keep up with a sightseeing schedule you invented yourself. You can take your time observing another country’s culture, another people’s culture, from within. By the third or fourth visit, they greet you at the greengrocer’s and the bakery. And at the café, a nod is often enough for them to bring you your favourite drink. And the most interesting thing about this leisurely immersion is the people. Ordinary people around you. You would hardly have noticed them while hurrying to yet another museum. Our yacht has already been berthed at the marina in Las Palmas on the island of Gran Canaria for several months. Next to us, Emilio lives aboard a fishing boat. He looks over 60, but he is remarkably sprightly. There is something about him that recalls Hemingway’s old man; I reckon he could handle a marlin. The Fisherman He does not actually take his boat out fishing, but catches his breakfast, lunch and dinner right here, dropping a baited hook over the side on a length of fishing line. Sometimes a fish bites at once; at other times he stands bent over the water for ages, either peering into it or using sheer force of thought to lure in a bigger catch. But there has not been a single lunch or dinner when the smell of fried fish did not waft from his boat. His faithful companion—a dog who answers to the name Boy—is on a fish diet too. By cutting a hole in the side of a five-litre bottle and putting a piece of bread inside, Emilio catches smaller fish for bait. When the fisherman starts hauling the bottle out of the water, Boy dances around him, anticipating a feast. Sometimes Emilio has to bark sternly at him to stop him snatching the fish straight from his hands. The Craftsman Emilio is also a master at making absolutely anything, in any shape, from fibreglass and epoxy. And after breakfast, the aroma of fried fish gives way to the smell of epoxy resin, paint and various other solvents. Nearly every day, local fishermen come to him with some broken plastic part from their boats. With an air of importance, Emilio takes measurements and gets to work. Sometimes the fishermen stay to help, sit around and drink a beer or two, and cheerful chatter accompanies the whine of the sander and the smells of paint. Lady Mary had needed new ventilation covers for a long time, but we had never got around to fitting them—or perhaps we simply had not found the right craftsman. After a cursory glance at the old broken part, Emilio pronounced: “¡No problema, mañana!”—which in Spanish can mean “No problem, I’ll do it tomorrow,” or, more often(!), “I’ll probably do it someday” 🙂 The part was removed from the hull and handed over to Emilio for consideration, along with an intact one to use as a template. Not exactly the next day, of course, but a week later the finished covers were already gleaming white! Now we are ready for any adventure!