Sailing in Cuba

 I'm sure some of you have been expecting this blog for a while, so sorry for its delay. Though Cuba is many things, the land of super fast wifi connection it is not. You may snigger to hear that we are more than five weeks behind in our Radio 4 soap 'the Archers' but on a more serious note we don't really know what's happening in the world given that no independent news is available.  More on communication later...

We spent a month is Cuba.  Not nearly long enough to do it justice.  But certainly long enough to get a good taste of what it has to offer, and also dispel the concerns we had of visiting by boat.

 We arrived in Cienfuegos.  This was a great city that we both took an immediate liking to.   We were able to walk the 20 minutes into town or catch the bus that cost 1 peso national; about 3 pence or 4 cents and easily stock up with all that we needed cheaply at the agromercardo.   The city (large town) had a lovely relaxed and good humoured feel to it, it was relatively quiet and laid back.  

One thing that exemplifies this is the way you may sit in any bar or evening meeting place and whether you buy anything or not you are made to feel welcome.  People hang out in many places along the water edge where you can catch a breeze, you may buy a beer or a bottle of rum in most such places (always for the same price as any shop) or not, no-one's bothered.  If you have a bottle of rum and are sitting at a table it's perfectly acceptable to ask for a glass of ice, the same at an outside kiosk.  We took to joining this custom quickly.  Whatever you had with you to enjoy, no-one was bothered where it came from, the goal of the establishment was not to make money for itself but to provide a service.  

Having said that, due to Cuba's historic problems of 'the special period' where it found itself very suddenly low on trading partners and with a corresponding deficit in it's self sufficiency; there exists a dual economy in Cuba.  The hardship of the 'special period' necessitated extreme action on the part of the rulers, where they suddenly found a place for money making, in the form of tourism.  Tourism did help them out of the 'special period' and continues to support Cuba's economy in no small way.  

In order to make money from tourism and to be able to buy commodities abroad, Cuba invented a second currency.  The CUC is an arbitary currency which is pegged to the American dollar.  The Cuban National Peso remains as the currency for the normal Cuban; most wages are paid in NPs and basic supplies are bought in this.  Over the years the CUC has spread out from the tourist hotels and restaurants by the proliferation of 'dollar shops' where less essential and imported goods can be bought by Cubans and tourists alike.  As the exchange rate is 1 CUC (a dollar) to around 24 National Pesos the difference in prices for similar items can make the eyes water.  A meal in a local place may be around 7-10 Peso Nacionals whereas a CUC restaurant may charge about the same in dollars (CUCs).... that's 24 times the price for what appeared to often be equally mediocre or even less good food.  There are certain things such as transport that are dictated a foreigner must pay in CUCs a different fee although the local buses don't stick to this and many truck drivers offering lifts continue to be offended by an offer of money 'this is socialismo'.  The result is that you can do things super cheap in Cuba if you stick to the normal local stuff.  However, occasionally you'll run in to trouble when someone clocks your skin tone, accent or 'foreign' demeanor and decides to charge you a different price in a different currency, sometimes quite unpredictably.  It's difficult to argue when you've already eaten and sure, everyone knows you could afford it if you had to....  This creates an apartheid which we agree does the Revolutions' admirable goals no favours.          

There was very little traffic in Cienfuegos except a little on the outskirts; all the easier to enjoy some great architecture in varied condition; both splendour and dilapidation.

Our intended cruising ground was to be the Jardines de la Reina; eventually we managed to drag ourselves away from Cienfuegos and sailed to Cassilda. From there we trundled up to the town of Trinidad in one of the many old American cars that still populate the roads along with horse and cart and of course the ever popular push bike. 

 Established in the 16^th Century Trinidad is an UNESCO world heritage site and as such the oldest parts remain cobbled and traffic free. Just a few blocks south of where the other tourists were photographing old colonial churches and mansions we were pottering amongst the streets of homes and soaking up the ambiance of a different way of living. Song birds in cages delineate almost instead of house names or numbers suspended over the doors prized for their singing, trained and traded. Many homes were simple in the extreme, though the people spring out looking modern, comfortable and light hearted.

From there we sailed into the Jardines de la Reina. We spent just over a week amongst the cays. As these are not inhabited by Cubans there are no guarda fronteras there, so one is really left alone to explore and enjoy. Our overriding concern began to develop that the wind was almost always from the SE and battling into it was chewing up a lot of our time. With intentions to explore beyond Santiago then returning to clear out, we did a big jump outside the reef to Cabo Cruz. 

Cabo Cruz was a stunning destination, located on the southwestern tip of the lower southern coast. A reef protects it and provides rich fishing ground whilst we are still able to benefit from the cooling breeze from the sea as we anchored behind it. Ferro cement fishing boats would trundle out in the morning and return with their catch in the evening. Ashore was a dusty little village with little in the way of supplies but a sleepy restaurant that sold its simple dishes representatively of what the fisherman had caught. Both children and men would swim out hoping to barter fruits and veg for what we might have.

One of the delightful charms of Cuba is money is somewhat devalued; partly because even if you have it, many things are simply not available but also by the fact that the government provides a lot of what they need.  Stuff has more value than money so bartering is common.  What people wanted most was 'Ropas'; clothes.  T-shirts, caps, kids clothes, towels, or useful things like knives, fishing line or lures, rope.  No-one was interested in what we had plenty of, which was like them; rice and beans!  

Those of you who know us will be starting to chuckle at the idea of anyone, far less the stylish Cubans being envious of our clothes.  They just expect westerners to have loads of that stuff.  It was easy to get our position across however; we would just point to the holes and sewn repairs in ANY clothes we were wearing and shrug.  Money was always the least sought reward.  We were able to find a spare torch, knife and give away some fishing line, and laugh when they asked if we had spare ropes, snorkel gear, or mobile phones!  Though we have what we need, we're not in the habit of carrying much that isn't extremely useful to us.  

The stretch of coast from Cabo Cruz Easterly turns ever more mountainous, indeed I believe there is no other place in the world where the height of the mountains drops so sharply in to the depths of the sea.  We saw some beautiful scenery and did some lovely light weather sailing; hugging the shoreline to try to exploit any offshore breeze.  

We stopped in Ensenada Marea de Portillo and after an airless night bothered by bugs, we were welcomed by a delightful Guarda Frontera who had been rowed out to us by one of the villagers.  

So the deal is when in Cuba by boat, you have to abide by some slightly unusual rules.  It is not like anywhere else and so requires a bit of a mindshift and a relaxed attitude to enjoy.  We had been forewarned and therefore found the limitations and rules that were enforced in our direction to be far less onerous than feared.  

When we checked into Cienfuegos we were boarded and checked by around 6 or 7 different officials with or without Spaniels over the first three days.  Since they were all extremely courteous and pleasant and none of them wanted anything but to do their job this was no problem to us.  We then, with some trepidation submitted a proposal of where we would like to visit as was suggested by our cruising guide to the Guarda. He took the document and then promptly went off duty, so when we checked out it was missing.  This was no problem as all they wanted to know was the next place we would be stopping and this was how it continued for the whole time we were in Cuban waters.  

Each place we stopped, if it was inhabited at all, we would make an effort to find the Guarda, or they may visit us first.  At this point they want to see your documentation; Passports, visa, possibly boat registration and 'despacho'.  It's the Despacho that you must surrender when you arrive and find when you want to leave being both stamped in and out by the Guarda and telling them where you will go next.  On occasion we were told that whilst we may go to the next intended place we shouldn't go ashore.  It was never quite clear (thankfully) to us how strict this was so we cautiously flaunted it and had no problems.  However, get caught somewhere you shouldn't be and that isn't on your 'despacho' then you WILL be in trouble and we heard of at least one boat being charged a hefty fine.  These warnings always need to be considered carefully however, as it's quite possible that the place they were found was a military zone clearly 'out of bounds' and they may well have been disrespectful and therefore attracted problems.  

In Cabo Cruz we were requested to not stray too far from the boat if it were unattended for security reasons by the friendly Guarda there, who was happy to fill our water bottles and gave us a lovely strong sweet coffee.  We were told at other times that we wouldn't be allowed ashore so... some rules are a little flexible. Aside from the entrance fee previously mentioned in Cienfuegos, we never had to pay any of these officials for any of the checks that they saw fit.  Boats do have to stay in a marina if there is one in that place (by no means everywhere and stays can be kept to a minimum if preferred.  Even if you choose to anchor in such a place they will prescribe where, charge you for the pleasure and require that you only leave the boat via dinghy through the marina gates.  The main reason that boats are so carefully watched is that the Cuban authorities are very concerned that no Cuban has an opportunity to leave the country illegally; a boat being a possible escape route... 

  

Anyway, back to Marea de Portillo, the Guarda had been informed of our presence and so visited us.  He wanted to know when we would leave so he could come back to stamp us out again.  His office was around 10 miles away and he had no boat of his own at his disposal, so given the lack of any obvious overseer you would have thought he could just do both at the same time but diligently he wished to revisit.  As we were vague and didn't know how long we wanted to stay, he just turned up the next day to check; and I'm sure would have happily, each day until we were ready to depart.  

    

Our last port of Cuba was Santiago.  Though a vibrant city, on a boat, this is far from ideal as a place to stop.  The whole big bay of Santiago is off limits currently for Sailboats (and has been for some time).  You have to stay in a small marina which is in poor repair and cramped by the mouth of the bay and so not always brilliantly sheltered.  The bay proudly sports an enormous bilious petro-chemical refinery so after a few days there, we're now on day three of scrubbing to remove the yellow spots allover our decks; we finally found that phosphoric acid gets it off.  Also Santiago marina is at least 10km from Santiago town. There are buses which are exceptionally cheap but not especially reliable or frequent.

We ran out of time at the end of our visit and decided to postpone our visit to Baracoa, my (Ruth's) favourite part of Cuba.  The wind was too much against and our minds were turning towards the Pacific.  We will definitely be back and first priority will be beautiful sleepy Baracoa.

Cuba has a gentle yet quirky charm that is greater than its constituent parts; its Spanish origins and its socialist ideals. People seem happy and content; they have a sense of purpose and a belief in their system (mostly). It all seems to produce a heady mix more relaxed than their Spanish cousins, with more time to find fun and enjoy the finer things in life.  The lack of emphasis on material wealth shared by the majority (though by no means all) produces an atmosphere which is unlike anywhere else either of us have been.  

Cubans have excellent (free to them) healthcare and a ruling power which tries to exert moral influence over its' population.  The ethos which is nurtured is that family, education, pride and patriotism are what makes Cuba great.  However we cannot gloss over the fact that Cubans are not free.  They are encouraged to make choices and take pride in their decisions to a point... but they do not have unbiased information sources, they may not travel freely or do as they wish unless it falls within what is permitted.  The controlling force is not - as in the West (largely) money and opportunity but what is decreed from above, facilitated by community enforcement and peer pressure (backed up by stronger state enforcement when deemed necessary).

'Granma' is the national newspaper which does report on world issues but it's hard to take seriously what may well be perfectly sound reporting when you know (and can tell) that it is the official line. Internet and international phone calls are prohibitively expensive in Cuba and are definitely not affordable to the average waged Cuban who would be spending half their months salary on 1 hour (slow connection once you've waited in line to use it) internet or 5 minutes of international phone call time.  I find it astonishing that the government can effectively keep the internet and all it offers from the Cubans whilst still enthusiastically encouraging high levels of education for all.  Cubans are often extremely overqualified and their expertise are generously donated for free to assist other struggling nations.  There is a national pride in the work that their aid teams of doctors, engineers, scientists and military offer to assist other countries. 

The atmosphere bred by the state's moral view is palpable day to day though of course complicated.  Just cast your eyes down a street and you will see people being treated with respect and dignity, young and old. There is an integration that they prosper within, where race, sex, age and disability seem to honestly matter less than in many other communities.  Where difference does not appear to be exalted particularly, merely accepted and enjoyed in a low key way.  Families and wider communities are seen together, interacting in a normal but very cohesive way which is seen less and less in our modern world.

Just in case you were wondering, all the photos are entirely how they came out from point and shoot with the occasional crop.  We have no photoshop skills and haven't changed any colours.  We have however found the 'straighten' button on our photo editor to be exceptionally useful when failing to take straight pictures from a rolling sailing boat.

Cuba

It seems a lot of time has passed since we left Guatemala; quite a few miles too.  After a relaxing couple of weeks retracing some of our steps back up the Belize coast with Rachel, we sadly left her in Belize city to find her way back to Cancun.  The enthusiastically anticipated big blue hole at Lighthouse reef remained 'Mission Impossible' for us, due to it being upwind no matter which way we seemed to approach it.  In the end we gave up and set sail for Cuba.

We always expected the leg to be a hard uphill slog.  The prevailing easterly trades set you back towards the Mexican coast as the gulf stream tugs or shunts you Northwards.  Many give up trying to get East and simply drift up North, wait for a calm day and boulder their boat with engine across the Yucatan Straits.  As it happened, we had predominantly South Easterlies and so managed to sail to Cuba in just about one very long and somewhat wriggly tack.

Not that it wasn't an arduous leg.  Duncan; a windsurfer of old, groups wind strength into three main categories: Not enough, Just right, or Too much.  For the first three days there was too much wind.  Impetuous pounded along under tripple reefed main and staysail as we cowered below in the relative dryness of the cabin, composing lists of jobs that we must address before finding ourselves in similar weather again.  Ruth lost weight and our ensign blew itself merrily to tatters in the howling wind.

It was a trip of two halves though; if the first three days were a good explanation of why not everyone wants to do what we are doing, then the next three days were lovely examples of why we do choose this.  It was sunny, breezy and calm and nights were illuminated by the full moon; just beautiful.  We got into the groove; read, cooked, dried out and cleaned up, listening to music and noticing as we saw more wildlife as we approached land; first dolphins, then a song bird rested with us a while, butterflies, a beetle then myriad bugs and birds.

Cuba felt a bit of a gamble as a destination, I'm sure everyone will come up with a different reason as to why that might be; such is the diversity of opinion on the place.  We had heard mixed messages from friends and other sailors and so kept asking anyone who had been, trying to get a balanced view of what to expect.  Duncan's primary concern was the tales of beaurocracy.  We wondered if this would mean that to travel from one place to the next could become more hastle than it's worth.  We'd heard from several people just how restrictive the authorities could be, and this had spoiled a few peoples experiences of Cuba.  Ruth visited around ten years ago and had the most amazing time.  It stands as one of her favourite ever trips; too short at three weeks, though she managed to see a little of the whole length of the island in that time using the Cuban transport of choice; hitchhiking.  The principle concern was that if visiting by boat were to be such a headache her romantic memories might be ruined.    Several reports from other sailors included that it was one of their favourite places they'd visited, despite the restrictions and so we decided there was only one way to find out.

So here we are.  It's early days yet; we've been in Cienfuegos since Friday evening.  Clearing in was a delight, though of course 6 officials had to inspect our boat together with two exciteable spaniels.  They were polite, efficient and friendly, the only charges so far were for a visa each ($25 for 1 month) and the boat registration ($50).  Of course we have yet to attempt to submit our cruising plan to the authorities we'll see what kind of reception we get then.  However, first impressions count for a lot and they are unanimous;

CUBA IS FANTASTIC!

The people are friendly, kind and beautiful.  The streets are clean and cared for, the roads are quiet with many cyclists, then along trundles a classic American car or just as likely a horse and cart.  The food is plentiful, fresh and cheap beyond belief (of course we shop in the local markets).   

The city has a rich mixture of old colonial buildings juxtaposed with art deco and more modern concrete structures, but brightly painted with well ordered gardens; surprisingly they seem to complement each other.  The fast food of choice is a simple pizza which will set one back as little as 5 Peso Nacional; about 13 pence, served from the front room of a family home, with an ice cream for desert from another open door; another 3 Peso Nacional (8p or 12 US cents).  Of course we haven't yet told you about the Rum... or the cigars... or the fishing... or the music....

Nesting Dinghy Days

Well it might have been nice to have written this as a daily blog, but a few things plotted against us. Not least inactive days and inactive Internet. It also would be very boring to read. So here are all the dinghy days rolled in to one, though its not finished yet, so expect another; steps towards a sailing dinghy...

It all started with the model that we made whilst still in Texas and a bevel gauge. We copied out the angles from the model on to the transom and on to the central frame. All we had to do then was join them, with a strip of holly used to give a pleasing curve we marked on the shape of the dinghy. Took a step back, when not happy we scribbled out the line and re-drew. We used a very simple design method throughout the dinghy construction. If it looks right; it is. 
 

Of course one absolute necessity for the nesting dinghy is for it to nest. For this, though you mightn't need the whole dinghy, you do need both the joining frames. Knowing that we would run out of wood we cobbled these together from offcuts. Obviously they need to be the same. Ruth used the router to perfectly copy the first frame when making the second frame. A lot of effort then went in to not gluing the second frame to the rest of the dinghy when gluing up. Look carefully for the tape.

Cable ties worked well as a quick and efficient tie. Though we needed extra strength for the bow when we resorted to wire and rope due to the tight angles. The bow itself required a bit of recutting as we thought it might. Though we had the model to copy, the limitations that bringing five separate sheets of ply together present along with the usual, 'oh just a little bit more curve don't you think,' resulted in needing final adjustment.

Our biggest mistake was not bolting the bow section to the aft section when we glued up the bow section, which is why it didn't fit! Still its amazing what fury can be vented with a hand saw, by the lunch of the day we realised our mistake, we were ready to glue it back up again. The rain clouds being the only dampener of our further progress.

Any excess wood was trimmed off with a plane. The outside edges were rounded so fibreglass could be draped over them easily. The inside corners were filleted and then glassed. Before long the only thing preventing us from having a celebratory paddle, before painting, was the addition of a daggerboard housing, to stop up the gaping hole in the sole. Once complete, who could resist having a little paddle? We were both delighted with the result. Certainly a lot more sprightly than our usual mode of transport the Avon Redcrest.

With a lick of paint still drying we loaded her on top of the boat as we went to provision Impetuous before leaving Guatemala. We went wood shopping again, this time in Rio Dulce, to ensure we would have enough ply to add the buoyancy tanks and bought some softwood chunks for the all important mast, gaff and boom. Perhaps not first quality, but the wood was incredibly cheap and we were able to route through their piles in order to find the lightest and straightest. We'll let you know how we get on in time.

Aventuras Sin Impetuous; Tikal

It was with a sigh and a pained look that Ruth said, 'We're never going to see any Mayan ruins.' Months ago when we returned to England we thought it would be nice to spend some time in Flores and Visit Tikal, on our way back to the boat in the spring. In reality, when the time came, all we both wanted to do was get back to Impetuous. So a plan was hatched that when our friend Rachel came in late Feburary; around Ruth's birthday, we would head up to Flores to meet her and all go to Tikal.

Rachel, who we had expected to take a more leisurely trip down from Cancun arrived like a shot from a gun. 'Oh shit!' I expectorated, she gets in to Flores in a few hours; the internet was working again and we had just picked up her most recent email. Time to go.

The bus ride to Flores was not without event, as we have posted. A protest had blockaded the road so, as five hours passed; amongst them the hottest of the day; we were stuck in a dusty town with thousands of others going nowhere. People pottered around selling their wares, we bought a bottle of honey in an old wine bottle. Generally all was peaceful and relaxed, no one seemed to care too much. Even the protesters just stood behind their banners and mutely protested. Inside the tin can of the bus we sweated. Finally around 6 o'clock the banners came down and the cool of moving air seemed all the sweeter for its hours of absence.

`

Tikal is different from many of the other Mayan ruins as the areas surrounding have not been cleared. You often are walking from one ruin to the next draped in a shadowey cloak of cacophony; the jungle alive above. We saw, and of course heard the roar of the howler monkeys as well as the constant chatter of birds of many species. Then suddenly the paths open out, presenting you with the spectacular sights of the ruins, towering with mythical splendour.

It lay undiscovered until 1863, despite being one the most significant sites of the most powerful kingdom of the ancient Maya. It is now being uncovered and, in places is still under renovation. Much more lies within the park boundary as yet hidden by the jungle.

Some of the imposing architecture dates back to the 4^th century BC, yet amazingly it did not see its demise as a strong hold of the culture until as late as 900 AD. After looking at our photo's its worth a google. 

Frustration!

Cruising has often wryly been defined as 'fixing you boat in interesting places'. This is no frustration for us as it's what we expect and enjoy. What's threatening our sanity at the moment is not being able to do our fixing and therefore delays in moving on. What's the problem in your beautiful tropical paradise? I hear you wonder; 'Demassiado lluvia' – Too Much Rain!

We've been here almost four weeks now and apart from a couple of delightful exceptions it's rained every single night. Before yesterday, the last five daytimes have been rainy too and plenty before that. It's not that we 'can't stand the rain'; we are British after all; it's just that our work is largely outside and perpetually damp or drying. Also, it's so warm that you need your doors and windows open trying to tempt in a little breeze.

Tuesday afternoon just when we thought we might have chosen something to do in the moisture, the power went.

The weeks of rain had dampened our spirits and it suddenly got to us just how little we'd managed to get done in this short and finite time we'd have the 'luxury' of power and nearby land. The reality is that we'd prefer to be at anchor in any case but we have several jobs that are massively aided by the use of power tools and a little more space.

Frustration hit and some words were flung. The problems have been only partly rain. It also has not been as easy as Duncan had hoped to get into the swing of things. I can't help feeling a bit like I'm on holiday so wasn't going for it hammer and tongs.

All of our first week was spent going through lockers; throwing out some things, cleaning and trying to irradicate our bugs. There was a fair bit of mould wiping and rearranging to be done before the boat felt homely again. Then there was going up town to provision and celebrate Duncan's birthday together with the inevitable hangovers. A few days were lost and our provisioning would have been much more appropriate if I hadn't felt so nauseus and weak. We consequently predictably ran low on fresh foods only one week later and eaked out our last few onions tomatoes and chillis for the next week. Repeatedly we put off a restocking trip due to the time it would take and how much we wanted to get done before our friend visits – when we had to go to town anyhow.

In any case Tuesday afternoon was a low spot, perhaps exacerbated by perfectly adequate, but below usual par food. We weren't alone, Mauritz who owns our space in the jungle ( I hesitate to call it a marina as it would do it a disservice) with his girlfriend Mavis slammed down his chisel on the workbench as rain dripped down his neck despite being under the roof , 'this is starting to 'shall we say' really piss me off now'; he wouldn't be glueing up his bowsprit that day. Mavis got back from dropping someone off in town in their lancha totally drenched through. 'I'm so glad we moved to the sun, baby'.

So, Tuesday night it continued to pour, we continued to grump at one another and 'no hay electricidad' persisted. We'd heard from our friend and we wanted to meet her soon. We started hatching a plan and went to bed waking up with regularity to squash some bloody mosquitos or lament on the thunderous hammering of precipitation on our roof.

Wednesday bloomed a whole new day. The sun poked through the remaining spots of drizzle, we had a plan and Duncan had laid it down; no more laziness. Mauritz was laughing over his music as he glued up his bowsprit. The whip had been cracked and we sprung into action, lockers were rearranged, cutting lists were organised, stuff was packed away; focus reigned.

In the afternoon I heard Mauritzs' compressor running, I knew he was already up in the bar area 'having a business meeting' with his builders and a beer. I looked across the water; no flow of exhaust out the side of his boat; he wasn't running his generator. 'Dunc, we've got power!'

I routed the edge on the piece of wood for the table; just one pass that I'd been trying to do for 48 hours. Duncan went to strip up a whole load of wood to prepare it to make trim in the future. I fibreglassed the edges of the dinghy way past sundown and we went up to discuss travel plans for the next day with Mavis and Mauritz over a beer for me and a 'Tom especiale' for Duncan; rum, tonic and lime over ice.

Mario could pick us up in his outboard powered cayuco at 06.30. This took a moment to get used to as we'd hoped to go around 2pm having cleared away and scrubbed up the boat a bit and painted the dinghy in the morning in expectation of our first visitor. Once we assimilated the new plan it all seemed grand again and we resolved to go to bed soon; it was already almost 11pm and we still hadn't eaten...

Mario zipped us up to Fronterras in just under two hours picking up various people and fish along the way. We had just enough time for huevos revueltos y frijoles negras; scrambled eggs and refried beans before getting on the bus for Flores. Rachel is there already having made the trip from Cancun airport in record time, however, at this present moment, we aint goin' nowhere.

Our bus stopped in a huge traffic jam just outside Poptun about 4 hours ago and I'm sitting on the side of the road thinking about frustration. We're told it's a teachers' strike blocking the road; apparently they've not been paid sufficiently and are letting people know by stopping the traffic. We're told that either the situation or individuals are 'locos', its hard to tell which, but no-one seems overly worried by this. I'm sure the 70 or so people who have poured out of our bus all have places to be and things to do but at the moment there's nothing anyone can do about it; for now we'll just have to wait.

The day we ran out of screws...

As I think we might have mentioned a few times before; when we bought Impetuous she came with a miriad of stuff. As well as the big important stuff like sails, winches and self steering gear, we were also given lots of little stuff; stuff that you might never consider but that really adds up.

The cupboard behind the cooker, for instance, was full of boxes of screws.  During our rebuild the screws moved to one of the drawers in the head, agreeably as odd a home as the cupboard behind the cooker, but they fit there so well.  Actually sitting on the toilet whilst contemplating what screw one needs for a job seems a fortunate duality of a room that perhaps mightn't have one.

When we were readying the boat to leave Texas we made sure we had plenty of all our favorite sizes whilst we still had access to Blackburns', our marine store.  Indeed we no longer had space for all the screws in just one drawer so the jubilee clips (hose clamps); another item that came with the boat in large number; had to be relegated to another place.   Neither of us are quite sure where to at the moment, but we know we have hundreds of the things lurking somewhere.

So today I went to the drawer to find some small screws with which to screw on the Ratan doors that I have just finished making for the galley cupboards. No suitable screws were to be found. The hinges for said doors are brass, obviously I was after a brass screw to suit. A ½'' number 6, oval headed, countersunk, brass wood screw, with a flat head drive to be quite precise.

I had to rob the afore mentioned screws from the inside attachment of other such hinges to carry out the job. This make do attitude I suspect we'll find increasingly necessary, traveling in far away places. It's a sobering thought though. With only a thousand miles under the keel we have started running out of screws.