Opua: waiting
Opua: waiting
Today was a beautiful day. The forecasts were exactly right. The low passed Sunday, and while we only had moderate wind here at the south end of the bay, the VHF reported gusts of 40+ knots at various weather buoys in the region. As often happens, we had strong wind on the back of the low, with my instruments showing 30 knot gusts yesterday while Roger the rigger was up the mast replacing my steaming light fitting and finding enough broken strands of wire to warrant replacing all standing rigging. This was not a surprise. The boat has done 30,000 to 40,000 miles, many of them hard, and has put the masthead in the water at least once. However I was hoping to put it off until next year.
So I spent this fine day, when I had half thought I might actually go sailing, tied to the boat yard dock, waiting for riggers and a diesel mechanic, who I decided to have do some routine annual maintenance while I’m stuck here.
They came and went and came and went. Some progress was even made, although I don’t have the least idea when I will be able to return to my mooring.
I also waited for new batteries, which I ordered last week and which were due to arrive yesterday. That I am glued to the dock indefinitely makes their delay less important. It seems likely that someone at a warehouse in Auckland screwed up and simply didn’t send them. What is unlikely is that it takes two days to truck them from Auckland to Opua, a distance of around 135 miles, and which I have driven round trip in a day.
That batteries are classified as hazardous goods does not offer a ready explanation. We are not talking radioactive waste. The ways of the Kiwi can be secretive and strange.
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Monday night football comes on at a very civilized time in New Zealand: early Tuesday afternoon. I filled some of my waiting time watching Cincinnati beat Baltimore via Slingbox.
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The photo is blurry because it was taken through the clear Plexiglas companionway insert during Sunday’s rain.
The boat that occupied my present position for several weeks feed two local ducks. Each evening they come aboard uninvited at suppertime. The female has even stuck her head into the cabin. I did not have the camera ready then, so this will have to do.
While I like birds, ducks are notoriously difficult to toilet train, and I don’t want to clean the deck after them. They are beginning to realize that the good times are gone and that they are going to have to make a living by some means other than begging, or rather demanding, at least until a more soft-hearted benefactor appears.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007