Friends, I’m not going to lie to you. I have a headache that feels like the devil himself is crouched inside my skull and is trying to force my eyeballs out to make room. (And I didn’t even do anything stupid to deserve this headache, which I particularly resent.) The point, at least as far as you are concerned, is that this post is going to be photo-heavy and text-light. Unless I suddenly become hilarious in the next five minutes, in which case I will delete this paragraph and you will be none the wiser. Ha ha! I am a wizard of editing tricks. (Man, that headache isn’t doing my writing any favours. Sorry, guys.)
Yesterday was Mizzen Day. After a full year without our second stick, it was finally time to put in a new one. Which meant hiring a crane. Which meant moving the boat to a crane-friendly dock. Which meant wedging ourselves between an enormous ferry and a big wooden tourist boat. And, despite the loudly-expressed fears of Mr Wooden Boat, we fit. Barely. Because Erik is a superstar.
|I think my art is getting worse, don’t you?|
Now came the fun part.
|Walking the mizzen.|
I wish I’d taken a picture of the crane operator, who, in addition to being totally unflappable also had the slickest black faux-fur seat cover I’ve seen in many a day. That stuff had to be six inches deep. The man must have murdered a teddy grizzly and kept the hide as a trophy.
But back to the mizzen.
|Up we go…|
|Nah, I’m not going to hit the roof.|
|And down again.|
|On the step…|
|Tie it down, and we’re done.|
The stays and shrouds are all in place now, and tomorrow, Erik and the riggers will attach the gooseneck and the winches. Which means, mizzen! Which means, sailing! Which means, tropics!
At least until a) cyclone season or b) we have to go back to work to pay for all this rigging, whichever comes first.
(I’m going to take some Advil and be back to normal tomorrow. Pinky swear.)
This article was syndicated from Sailing Papillon