Snow

YES, it snowed. Throughout the evening we were disturbed by great thumps above us as the snow fell in big clumps off the spars. HB managed to get hit directly by a pile off the mizzen as she sat in the companionway smoking: serves her right for letting all the warmz  out.

Apparently, it’s also predicted to snow tonight, which is a bit much. It’s not a problem per se, but it does make everything else all a bit harder. I’d really like to get the sails laid out so they can dry and be inspected, too.

Fein

I was going to start caulking the decking on the top of the forehatch today, but the teak deck fitting for my Fein Multimaster was the wrong kind. I am currently letting the hatch dry inside so I can put a coat of varnish on the headliner.

Car Alarm

HB was cleaning out the car so we can sell it, when the alarm, which has been dead for years, decided to go off. It’s a crappy aftermarket thing that the previous owner put on in the last century, and we don’t even have the fob for it any more. I tried cutting the wires to the alarm horn, but the immobiliser was still on. It was a giant pain, but eventually I found the brain and pulled the fuse.

I did get to act out something that must be a fantasy for anyone who’s lived in an urban area: opening the bonnet and literally ripping out the alarm and hurling it to the ground, ending the racket forever.

Ahh, bliss.

THE old gal is finally fully dressed, with all her sails on.  Yesterday, among a few other tasks, we bent on the genoa . . . three times.  The first time, we forgot that we had to wind the roller furling line first.  The second time, I wound the damn thing the wrong way.  Sigh.  She’s up now, and BOY, is she manky! There’s some serious Mexico dirt on that poor sail.  Time to Google “How to wash sails.”

We also ended up dragging out every single frakking thing from the forecastle to inventory the sails (seem to be missing the hank-on storm jib), whereupon we discovered, after six months with the boat, ANOTHER secret compartment filled with spares.  Most of which were for the wire rigging we ditched.

Today, it’s disgusting out – sleet this morning, rain now, and 5-8 inches of snow predicted for the afternoon.  I’m going to give my poor, weary muscles a break, scan boat documents and make bread.  Philip is finally getting his hair cut.

LAST Friday, HB and I spent all day setting up the running rigging. It was very satisfying and tiring. We got the mainsail bent on, the mizzen boom hung, the various travelers, topping lifts, and so forth in their proper places. Fortunately, it was a calm day, so we could hoist the mainsail and put the full-length battens in without endangering the rest of the marina.

I mentioned that it was tiring, right? Because the last thing we attempted before calling it quits for the night was to shackle the two bow anchors to their rodes and pull them up into the rollers on the bowsprit. This didn’t go too well. In my head, I’d thought through a whole process that would get them into place with minimum fuss and risk–they weigh 45lbs each and are less than wieldy. We were able to warp the Picaroon forward a few yards so that her bowsprit actually hung over the finger pier ahead of us. Perfect! A nice stable platform right where we need it. Unfortunately, the part where the anchors were always attached to something to prevent losing them overboard slipped my mind in the fog of exhaustion, and, well, one of them fell off the pier into nine feet of murky water and promptly settled into the foot of ooze at the bottom.

With the light waning, we tried various methods of locating and then retrieving the anchor, including magnets, boat poles, longer boat poles, tuna gaffs lashed to boat poles, a grappling hook, all to no avail. We gave up at dark and went off to visit our lovely godless-daughter Eleanor and her parents for the weekend.

Monday came around, as it always has (so far), and with fresh vigour, and the able assistance of Thomas the Carpenter and Aaron the Yard Manager, who quickly dropped their highly important work and very kindly volunteered to stand on the sidelines and make unhelpful comments while I finally retrieved the anchor (two long boat hooks lashed together). Fun was had by all, and we don’t need to buy a new CQR.