I know what you’re thinking: Nate, we’re sick of seeing the same damn sunset. Me too. I’m ready to move. But we can’t until we get the yacht tightened down. So: we’ve worked really hard. It was 2 or 3 AM the other night when we eventually knocked off. A long day. A long night. Moving diesel fuel around is one of the least fun things on the face of the planet. And it’s horrible for your health. I’m positive.
We needed to polish a couple of fuel tanks. It’s a dirty, nasty job and you’re going to have to deal with me complaining about it. It kills alot of brain cells. I would hire someone, but then you can’t trust that it’s done correctly – so Josh and I did it all by our lonesome. I can officially say that’s the worst job onboard. Worse than fixing marine heads (toilets). Worse than dealing with seasick passengers. Worse than reefing a sail when I’m taking big waves over the bow. Horrible. I just read about a friend dealing with the worst weather imaginable on a yacht. His ordeal might have been worse, but I’d say polishing fuel tanks is up there.
Moving diesel and polishing fuel tanks leaves you covered in diesel. In addition your boat/condo is also covered in diesel. That’s not fun. As a matter of fact you often get pretty ill moving it around. We were ill. Josh fell overboard at one point, in the middle of the night. That makes him the first crew member to fall overboard without being pushed. I’ve been overboard, but only after Rob’s party, a shove by an Aussie, and a few too many alcoholic beverages. Josh falling overboard was a sign that we were working too hard, Josh is very closely related to monkeys in his ability to climb and hang onto things… Over the course of a day we got the tasks complete. Of course, I’d promised a bit of relaxation at the end of this little ordeal. I felt ill and things seemed pretty dismal at times, but it was my boat and I signed up for this. This wasn’t Josh’s boat, and he may or may not have signed up for this. So I promised a bit of entertainment.
The next day I brought a couple of friends onboard. I’d met a couple of young Panamanians, who decided that they’d come onboard. I don’t hang with the locals, they only scope yachts to steal things from them. But I will hang with the occasional semi-local from Panama City, if they can (minimally) speak broken English. So they came, I picked them up, and we went exploring. We visited a couple of beaches, I cooked, we came back, and they decided to have a dance-party onboard. No problem, there are worse things than young Latino women dancing onboard. Way worse – like polishing fuel tanks. Here’s them trying to convince Josh that he could dance. Nada. We’re not built for this kind of dancing, but I feel confident saying I did asi-asi (so-so).
I wish I had more pictures, but I was cooking and they were dancing. You can see my newest take on paella taking shape in the left-hand corner. We had no time for picture-taking.
A bit of drinking commenced. Interesting to listen to the semi-locals complain about how lazy Panamanians are. For some reason, when a semi-local complains about something, you feel like it’s more legitimate… I thought I was the only person who’d noticed.
Before you become judgmental: I know what you’re thinking: Nate, you’re a scoundrel. But this kind of behavior has left me with a much better grasp of Espanol. I can tell you, officially, if someone is cursing at me. That’s progress. All of this was done in the name of science. You’re welcome.
Back to the story: the girls needed to get home, thankfully. And we have plenty of work. So I dropped the girls off in the middle of a windstorm, and we got back to work when Josh woke up. I’ve been up since 5AM. I’m starting to realize that the captain gets the least sleep, the most work, and the least diving. I wish someone had told me that before I started.
The work list is shrinking, and we’re slowly moving S/V NOMAD toward a real, reliable sailing vessel. Naturally, it’s one step forward and two back in Panama. I’ll also admit that it would be quicker in the States. But then we wouldn’t have this view. And at this point, who’s really worried about time? Next stop: Bocas del Torro. I hope.
More Of The Same
No comments:
Post a Comment