Sometimes things break

There's this thing. I'm not sure exactly what it's called. Gamoning iron, gamming iron, gamon iron, something like that. Between the captain's Boston accent and the first mate's North Carolina accent, it's particularly hard to tell. Anyway. This thing, this iron, is what holds the forestay to the boat. The forestay, if you missed that entry, is what holds the forward tension of the masts, maintaining the precarious balance of any schooner and keeping the masts upright. So it's important. As is that iron thing. Thing is, iron rusts. Yesterday, we discovered that the gamming iron was rusted through entirely on its port side. Luckily, it connects in two places, but that's still a little scary. We canceled the next two days of sails, called welders and spent today trying to fix the boat.

First, Captain Tom dismantled the whole thing, then the welder took it away. We pulled the bow in really tightly to the dock so that he could work sort of from the dock. Of course, this meant that the dock gouged a small hole in the hull. I spent a good chunk of my morning preventing the worsening of that hole. And nailing a leather cover on to a block.

My afternoon was a good deal slimier, and not just because I finally remembered to put some sunscreen on. Despite being my skin being a brown that no one of Irish descent is supposed to be, I still burn sometimes. Anyway, I then took the leather off the clapper of the main gaff. The clapper is, essentially, the part where the gaff (the top spar of the sail) slides against the mast. The leather, I discovered, was worn through, so I am replacing it. Even better, as the mast is covered in a slimy sludge of vaseline, penetrol and linseed oil, so is the clapper. And so are my hands. And my tiny crowbar. Tomorrow, I'll cut out a new piece and then nail it on.

Yesterday, I also ended up as the cook again. Somehow, Jess's days off have worked out so that I've been the cook aboard three days so far. "Sea Cook" was never something I thought I could check off my list, but I've made pizza and tacos and other things while underway to serve 8ish people. That's an accomplishment if ever I've had one.

Sunday night, we went to a party up in the rainforest. It was exactly like a dance party in Gardner Lounge in Grinnell, only in a grass hut with cockroaches running over my feet and a mean age of 35. It was great. Unfortunately, I'd faceplanted earlier in the day by tripping over the main sheet. So I was rocking out on an injured leg. Totally made that feel great in the morning.

My plan is to enjoy the time I have left and to follow the advice I give to people: Make the "bad" decisions and make the most of them. Though I don't think I'm going to jump on the Cramer, a brigantine in town and sail home with them, even though it would be awesome.