Woke up on Sunday morning still feeling lethargic and listless. Lola and I sat in the cockpit staring at each other with rather blank expressions on our faces as we tried to discuss the list again trying to muster up the energy to tick at least one thing off. The list, the list, the list, everyday, the list. I am so sick of the list. Lola could obviously read my mind and suddenly gave me an understanding look. She then suggested that we should not work on the list but rather head out for a sail even if it is just in the harbour. I agreed with her that this was a better way to spend the day.
It was a little later after our morning visit to the bathroom that I noticed it was Sunday. The notice board had been chalked on with the details of the Sunday race meet. This must have been the point that the idea first entered my mind so I made my way back through the boatyard in search of my better half to convince her of the idea. If we are going to untie the docklines we may as well head out to sea and enter the race. Lola agreed stating that if we managed to get the boat ship shape in time then we should take part. Suddenly we all sprang into action stowing away stuff that has been lying around all over the boat for months now waiting to get used to tick things off the list. We quickly found homes for most of the stuff and the rest got jammed into any available space. The clock was ticking but we managed to escape the constraints of the dock with a few minutes to spare. We headed out into the channel and shook the cobwebs out of our never before used main sail. She went up smoothly and sucked up the wind as we tacked around in the channel waiting for the race to begin. We had entered one race before but never managed to reach the start line. Our inexperience showed right from the start as we stupidly chose the leeward side of the channel and had to tack back and forth in the harbour mouth a few times before we managed to exit the harbour. By this time the other sailboats were almost halfway to the horizon.
The predicted wind was between six and nine knots. Our wind instruments don’t work so we just had to accept the prediction. Judging by the sea state and our boat speed of seven knots I predicted the wind to be more around seventeen knots. We continued speeding, if you can call it that, at between seven and ten knots slowly closing the distance between ourselves and the other boats. By the time we were about one mile from the turnaround point the distance between us and the second last boat was no more than four hundred metres with the others just ahead. We were close hauled and Yrunoar was bouncing through the choppy sea. Occasionally the sea spray escaped over the bows cooling me in my seat behind the wheel.
I knew that once we rounded the mark we would be sailing on a broad reach and since we are on a catamaran we would most certainly catch the other boats. I had noticed the rigging wires on the leeward side of the mast flapping away in the wind but decided that I won’t mention this. A few minutes later we entered the Mozambique current and I could feel as we were pushed slightly off course as the current tried to push us down towards Cape Town. Unbeknown to me everything was about to change.
Lola went inside to do something and looking out of the saloon windows must have caught site of the flapping rigging wires. I heard her a long time before seeing her as her frantic angry face came flying out of the doorway. I thought she was going to suffer a complete meltdown as she screamed at me that it was all my fault and she wants nothing whatsoever to do with me ever again. I tried to pacify her but she was having none of it. Right this instant I was to drop that main sail and take her back to shore now. I could see from the demonic look in her eye that she meant business and decided it was wiser to obey than object.
We will never know if we would have caught up to the other boats. But in my wild imagination I believe we would not only have caught up but also overtaken. Maybe, perhaps.
19 Apr. 12
This year has been the most difficult and trying time on Lola and my relationship. I think back now to new years day and can still remember the strange look in Lola’s eyes. For the first week of the year she carried that look in her eyes. I am not really sure that what I did on New Years Eve was so bad that it should have ruined our relationship, but for a while into the new year it did. It is now four months down the line into the year and the occasional mention of new years still pops up. It reminds me of our wedding day and the minister’s sermon. He preached about knitting a jersey and dropping stitches as you knit, leaving behind a hole or many holes in the jersey as you go along. He mentioned that the only way to fix the holes was to unravel your knitting and go back to the place where you dropped a stitch. If you don’t your jersey will always have holes that let the cold in. I find myself doubting our relationship and feel that Lola no longer trusts me completely as she once did or is hiding her real feelings from me. I am not sure how to go back to new years to fix whatever the problem may be, or if the problem even started on new years and isn’t seeded back further somewhere. The meltdown on the race didn’t help matters and my selfish behaviour towards her reaction was unacceptable. Even though I have apologised for my behaviour I still feel that there is something missing in our relationship that used to be there. I am not sure if I want to put this on my blog but I do want to remember how it felt and when it happened.
20 Apr. 12
This morning I woke up to perfect weather for a trip down to Durban. We weren’t quite ready but decided that we have to focus on getting ready. So we started the motors and drove up to the wall. At the wall we filled the diesel tanks. One hundred and sixty two litres. Hopefully this is enough to get us down to Cape Town and across the Atlantic Ocean. Actually I hope that it’s enough to get us all the way to New Zealand but that’s just hopeful me. Unrealistic, hopeful me.
I think Eric must have heard of or read my blog because I see how he sort of eyes me when I walk past and half ass greets me when he has absolutely no choice because we have to cross paths. Ah well, I’m really going to miss his friendship. We were after all very close, almost like twins really.
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