Ahhhh. The joys of cruising on a small sailing yacht. Feeling the fresh wind on your face. The warm sun on your back.
The ten-inch bronze cleat under your–ahem–derriere as you straddle the bowsprit and subsequently note the loss of feeling in your lower extremities. Yes, now that is truly what cruising is all about.
So, in a sense, Steadfast today was “cruising.” At least, that is how your correspondent attempted to console himself as a warm wind blew ten-to-twelve out of the so’west, ideal for carrying a little boat northward up the Chesapeake Bay. But no, tasks remain to be done before casting off.
So the bowsprit is straddled, brush in one hand, cup of varnish in the other, contents of which then are applied–in a thin coat, mind you–to the golden teak that juts firmly from the little boat’s bow. After which, without spilling the cup, one rises to move aft ward and thus to spread said contents on various rails here, there and elsewhere.
Why, you might ask, as any rational person would. Especially given that there are other tasks that must be done before said boat may cast off and begin her journey northward. Fairly significant tasks such as, oh, let’s just say, adjusting the rig (i.e., making sure the mast doesn’t fall down). Or provisioning, i.e., procuring, schlepping and stowing food stuffs for the next week or so (after all, it’ll be that long, at least, before the crew sees another real supermarket). Or topping off the diesel tank; that’d be a good idea, given the sparsity of fuel docks ‘tween here and, say, Annapolis.
But then, how much varnish does one wish to carry on a cruise to New England? And more to the point, how much time on said cruise does one want to spend straddling the bowsprit, or kneeling on the side decks, while spread varnish?
So as many coats of said product as possible get spread on the teak railings prior to departure. Fuel is something to burn. Food is just something to eat. But beauty, ah, the gleam, the sheen…the loveliness of a well-maintained yacht.
Now THAT, my friends, fuels dreams and feeds the soul!
For as Michael–with Ann on Nimue, our new friends from England–reminded the other day, “cruising is simply doing boat maintenance in lovely places.”
‘Tis a lovely place, Hallieford. And this is boat maintenance, for sure.
Must be cruising!
Tomorrow, for sure. The schedule calls for departure no later than 1000 hours, in tandem with Quintan and escorted by the crew of Plover. It don’t get much better than that.
Steadfast out.
At Sea with Steadfast 
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