Up and Out, Good Jobs and Bad
Saturday 6th October 2018
The final for this year. We lifted on a beautiful sunny morning to the sounds of the local naval establishment enjoying what sounded like a practice session for a passing out parade. That was after the normal bleating of the goats as they made their way past the boatyard.
Safely up, we set about the usual clearing, cleaning and securing operations. Bits off and stowed, sails washed, strung up and stowed, the usual drill. Additionally, on day 2, Richard decides to take out the holding tank - we have 3 options: we are getting 2 quotes from the stainless steel man in the yard; 1st for a repair, 2nd for making a new replacement (exactly so it fits existing space). The third option is to buy directly from Hallberg-Rassy, get them to ship to the UK and we'll bring out the new (probably more expensive but we'll see how big the differential is). We're not convinced of the repair option - if pinholes have been forming from the inside, what is to say there aren't others chewing away that the repairers cannot see. I will not go on about getting the holding tank out (supposedly empty, flushed through and not blocked anywhere). It was not a pretty operation and if we both do not die of sepsis within the next few days, we'll have come out unscathed (except for my equilibrium). I WILL NOT go into the gory details! Suffice it to say the bilges, heads, engine compartment and cockpit locker are now cleaner and more detoxed than they have been since the boat was new.
Got that over with. We can now enjoy putting the boat to bed in sunshine. We had the "Miss Meg's" here for company (the name of their Oyster 46), a nice couple from Wales. Richard and Alan could talk tanks to their hearts' content as Alan also had one out on the ground that had rusted. Jacqui of Miss Meg will have a go at most things it seems and hilariously described taking off Mary Poppins-like, dangling by one arm from their sail that had been hoisted on the washing and drying mast. A gust of wind caught the sail and her holding the other end and they both went flying. She crashed down with embarrassment as a bevy of beefy Greek workmen rushed to pick her up and all but wanted to cart her off to a doctor.
On the last evening there is always a slight twinge about these evenings in the sun, a fairly rustic view and the thought of abandoning poor Myrica until next season. But the nights are beginning to draw in, we've put sleeves on for the first time (still in shorts at 9pm) and it's time to go home.
We walked to our little airstrip Saturday morning. Our flight was delayed by an instrument problem. Oh well, it's nice waiting at the little airport, you can go back outside after security. Our transfer time at Athens (domestic to international) was only an hour. The delay meant we would have about ½ hour to sprint to make the transfer. Hats off to Olympic and Aegean - our hold luggage was marked "quick transfer"; we as passengers were marked "quick transfer"; we were met coming off the plane at Athens by our "Connection Ambassador" who whisked us away, past queues for passport control and hand luggage security and kept up a blistering pace before leaving us at our Gate which was already boarding - turnaround 20 minutes. And our hold baggage was first in arrivals at Heathrow a few hours later. Brilliant.
Home time now. Until next spring - with lots of exciting things in my luggage no doubt. Myrica out.