Catching up on sleep after our night motor was a delight, until at 8am there was a familiar bang on the boat. Our neighbour had spotted a wall used for drying out was empty, and was eager to get over there as fast as he could. I was eager for him too, but not at 8am. Alas our sleep was interrupted once again.
Readying the boat to unraft from his, I had intended on letting the bow out first before releasing the line at the stern. My neighbour who was there to give me a hand had other thoughts and threw my stern line back unannounced. I somehow managed to get Excalibur to do a 360 and motored off wiping the sleep from my eyes. We moored up in the now empty space, and once again I was fully awake. Holiday lie in over.
We had a very nice chat with Ann one of the marina staff. Ann god bless her, has started up no less than 3 gig (boat) racing clubs, and as a founder, has some how managed to get kicked out of all three for getting a bit too emotionally involved. We liked her. We also learn’t that he politics between gig racing clubs is rife, and rowers from one club cannot simply join another in some cases.
I spent the morning doing a spot of DIY, whilst Trina did a spot of admin. Oggy Oggy pasties for lunch, and then a visit to the National Maritime Museum .To be honest, the main reason we went was to see the British Tattoo Art exhibition. We perused 100 arms of tattoos and picked out our favourites, mine had to be Lal Hardy from New Wave Tattoo, London. Trina has come up with suggestion that I should get a tattoo in every country we visit on our trip next year. I think we might need to think about the practicalities of this 😉
We saw two great quotes today:
The sea has never been friendly to man, at most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness – Joseph Conrad
Everyone who enters this bar makes us happy. Some when they arrive. Some when they leave. – A wise man
We arranged to meet a couple of friends (Bentley and Jo) in Mylor to watch them row in the evening. We blew up the dinghy (within just a matter of minutes), packed the new wet bag with flares, head torches and our emergency ping pong paddles (for spare oars). Our destination? Flushing! With our new cheap oars from Amazon we rowed out between boats on swinging moorings. I went to take over as a tour boat raced past us creating a sizeable wake. As I grabbed the oars to paddle I found the end had come off one of the oars. So once again the emergency ping pong paddle came out to save the day. We paddled across with one oar and one ping pong paddle Indian style. Luckily for us it was roundabout slack tide, and the wind gently pushed across tot he other side.
We had a nice walk around the headland to Mylor and caught up with Bentley and Jo before their gig practice. We then unfortunately made some new friends, a sailing couple that talked our ears off all bloody night at the yacht club. Regretfully after Bentley and Jo’s training session finished, they were also subjected to this couple. Nice as our new friends were, they just wanted to talk at us, and weren’t interested in hearing anything other than their own voices. Eventually they left and we had a good catch up with Bentley and Jo.
The night was over before we knew it, and we got a lift back to the dinghy which we’d left in Flushing. We deflated the dinghy and packed it into Bentley’s car and drove back to Falmouth. We waved them goodbye, and agreed Cornwall is a bloody nice place to live, and headed to the boat for some rest.
As we walked to the boat, two inebriated old guys (one Dutch, one English man) exclaimed that the river taxi had finished early and had left them stranded with no way to get back to their boat. I agreed to get these guys home. I couldn’t just leave them there! So on went my cap of authority. I didn’t want to hang around, just get them home and get back to the boat and sleep. I told them to go down below for a sobering cup of tea whilst I sorted out the dinghy, as I needed to lift the cockpit flooring to attach the pump to the batteries. Trina fed them rum and I pumped up the dinghy. Then one of the guys came up to see what was going on, and fell into the hole where the cockpit floor used to be. He yelped in a very Dutch accent. This was turning into one hell of a bloody day. Comedy writers couldn’t have come up with this shit.
So before I knew what was going on, I was paddling away from Trina shouting “I’ll be right back!” (with honest intentions of being right back) with two old guys into the dark. Oh and I had to nick an oar from a dinghy that had seen better days.
We paddled here, and we paddled there. I started to wonder if these guys knew where they’d left their boat. Perhaps this was a mistake. They were in a happy chirpy state, and even donned on a lifejacket when I asked them to. After what seemed like an age, we found their boat, an old beautiful Cornish wooden gaff rigged 28 footer. I dropped them off and should have left it there. They insisted I step on board and have a quick look around before leaving, and before I could say “have a nice evening chaps” a glass of whiskey was poured and their life stories began unfold.. They were truly truly great people and were very entertaining, but without my phone I had no way of letting Trina know I was ok. I drank my whiskey (more of a rum fan) as quickly as I could, bid them farewell, and rowed back as fast as my odd paired oars would take me in the dark.
Trina was waiting for me on the pontoon, understandably quite worried.
“I must get back to my waiting girlfriend I had told them!”
“Bullshit” cried Trina.
Thankfully nobody died.
We’d had enough excitement for the evening, had a cup of tea and went to bed, hoping finally for some uninterrupted sleep.