Weds 19th - After saying farewell to Tracy & Melody, Mr Crute and I set off to the airport late afternoon with ample time to spare. We made it to the end of his road when my spider senses tingled! 'Pull over - I wanna check the bags again'. Sure enough I had left the hand luggage behind with all the boat paperwork, ticket info and laptop etc. Phew!
Take two. Back on the road all went smoothly to the airport, aside from the £8 per 1/2 hr parking fees. Then the luggage fun and games began. I was 6kg over weight on my suitcase (the large Musto Crew bag was fine). It was going to cost me £79 to keep the weight. Out came the wetsuit, satphone, towel, a musto jacket, a pair of heavy shorts. The length of the line was increasing with business men all cursing us under their breath. Finally the woman behind the check-in took pity and allowed the bag through still ~3kg over weight. At least my bags had been routed all the way to St Martin and I wouldn't have to go through the grief of re-checking them in again.
In the middle of the airport we 'made camp' and squeezed what items we could back into my hand luggage (fitness first back pack and my travel guitar case). Somehow, with the zips at bursting point and my Musto foulies strapped to the outside, we managed all but the towel and the pair of shorts.
I hugged Crutey and said farewell, it all felt a bit emotional although I never said anything at the time. I decided to head straight through security to ensure there would be nothing else that would have to remain in the UK and before Crutey got to far away.
On the otherside, I made a mental decision to sit down relax and chillout, I was on my way. Deciding to go in search of a drink I discovered to my horror my wallet was missing from my pockets, I had already dropped my passport earlier but felt it hit my foot while sitting down. I rushed back to where I had been sat. Nothing! A guy told me it had been handed in and I was so relieved when the woman handed it back to me at customer services. Jeez, I am having a nightmare!
With empty pockets and everything safely packed in my bags, I boarded the plane with about ten other people to Paris Orly airport.
When I arrived in Paris, the first thing I noticed was that there wasn't anyone around and everything was closed. The sound of pneumatic concrete drills sounded and a few people were driving floor cleaners. Great, an over night stop in a closed airport with no shops, resturants or even anything close by.
I found a chocolate dispenser and managed to get 4eu change for a 5eu note from a cleaner. Evening meal was a snickers washed down with water from a drinking fountain outside the toilets. I made my self 'comfortable' on a bench. I talked to Kat for a while on the phone and then faded in and out of sleep to the sound of the concrete drilling, my head on my backpack and my fingers through my guitar case as homeless people searched the bins for food.
What a start to the adventure, if it continues like this I'll be back at home by Friday!
Thurs 20th - The airport woke up around 5:30am and I made my way to the south terminal to check in. On through security with no problems I was getting suspicious!
After an eight hour flight I arrived in St Martin and waited patiently for my luggage. The bags appeared in dribs and drabs like the handlers just couldn't be bothered to rush. Lots of the bags were split open - I began to worry. After what seemed eternity I was the only one waiting and wondered over to the baggage desk and there it was the word 'DOWLUT' in big red letters. The woman smiled as she announced that my bags had not made the plane in Paris. The like an uppercut after a hook came the realisation that I hadn't put on any address labels - twat!
The next plane was on Sunday, four agonising days to wait without any thing other than what I stood there with. I found Reg (the broker) waiting for me in arrivals and had to get his contact details for the luggage to be delivered to. Finally, I left the airport with Reg and we got into his dinghy to speed across Simpson Bay lagoon.
And thats how I met Katla in La Royale Marina bay, I wasn't exactly the happiest bunny in town at that point and I was completely numb to the fact I was staring at 'my boat'. Reg left me with his number just incase I needed anything. What could I possible want with no luggage, in what felt like 40C heat on a boat (on a mooring buoy) with no toilet, electric or water!
Now alone I tore the boat apart looking for the pump to the dinghy, finally dripping wet with sweat I found it and made myself 'mobile'. I rowed the 150 yards ashore and found a shop to get some supplies. Water, candles, wetwipes, toilet rolls and some cookies to snack on. Back on the boat I found some clean-ish size small T-shirts and an old paint ridden but clean pair of shorts. Everything else was filthy. My hands were black from everything I touched, everything was dusty and there small amounts of white powder all over the boat. Then I saw the container marked 'Boric Acid - for CockRoaches', great!
That first night I lay there in my tight stretch to fit T-shirt and paint stained shorts on a dusty blanket with the sweat pouring from me and the mosquitos eating me alive. An all time low, could it get any worse?
Fri 21st - I was awake for most of the night and despite two almost sleepless nights watched the sunrise sitting on Katla's deck in the cooling breeze. A drink of water and a few cookies later and down to work. I started to sort through the boat and its contents. Reg came by around 10am and took four bin liners of rubbish away for me.
I found a supermarket and bought Ajax spray, shower gel, washing up liquid, some batteries and a mosquito candle. I went through the extensive range of books and threw 75% of them away with any remaining being sprayed with Ajax and cleaned. Most of them are either about art, poetry or in Icelandic and Reg has agreed to take them away for charity as I hate to throw away books.
When its too hot to stay below I sort through the tangle of rigging, trying to figure out what goes where. Everything seems to be stowed well and thoughtfully, with all ropes wipped and finished. The previous owner (Martin Lund) was a stickler for being seamanlike.
That evening I go ashore after more cleaning on the boat and giving myself a wash using an old towel that looks clean(ish) which I have torn into pieces to use as both a wash cloth and towels. It's spag-bol for dinner my first real meal since arriving.
Back at the boat it's early to bed (around 9pm) as it's too dark to read or do much by candle light. Another sleepless night...
Sat 22nd - Wide awake at daybreak, more cleaning and I'm starting to feel like I'm gaining an edge! As the temperature rises I go ashore as it's clear I am going to need water in larger quataties than buying two 4 litre bottle at a time. The guy at Budget Marine lends me a 5gal container until they get the three containers I have ordered in on Monday. In a pharmacy, I buy some Milton disinfectant in tablet form and some extra strong mozzie spray. Before going back to the boat I have a pepperoni pizza for lunch. With water can in hand I discover that the Capitainerie is closed until Monday (this is France after all). Luckily, a shop owner on the water front fills my can for me. I pour the Milton treated water into the ships tank hoping it will sterilise the tank and water system. It should then be ok to drink from the tank after it has been flushed a few times. As a bonus, everything I wash onboard now is being sterilised as well - perfect!
Another early night...
Sun 23rd - Up at daybreak, I finish the last of the cleaning and decide not to trust my baggage to be delivered. Ashore I look for busses but there doesn't appear any easy way to the airport. I ask directions from some workmen and after talking an explaining my predicament he offeres to drive me there. He also invites me to his resturant and I am so thankfull for the lift.
Inside, I go to the Corsair desk and a woman takes my details. Another woman appears and is here to pick up baggage, except hers hasn't arrived (again). I start to notice that a few people from almost every arriving Corsair flight have lost luggage!
I am told to come back at 3:30pm so I have two hours to kill. I watch the departures for a while before taking advantage of the clean toilets. Half an hour later I am eating a beef & cheese sandwich before making my way back to the desk. I am told to 'go to arrivals', what does this mean is my luggage here?
I introdce myself to the baggage agent who appears to all but ignore me and tells me to 'wait there'. Finally, after another half hour of waiting the heavenly sight of a Musto crew bag being uncerminiosly dragged along the floor appears from the arrivals exit, swiftly followed by my huge blue suitcase - thank god! I am not sure what I would have done if they had not arrived or were lost, my 'whole world' is in these two bags!
I get a taxi back to La Royale and row my bags back to Katla. Now everything is clean and tidy, I find a place for my 'belongings' and even 'Churchy' gets a new home.
Reg called by with his wife and daughter in the evening on their way to a meal ashore to regretfully announce no news from the baggage people and I explain I have picked it up. He takes away the three bin liners of books which will go into the local school library. Another early night...
Mon 24th - I put away my remaining things and finally the boat is starting to look and feel like 'home'. even now I am still finding new storage compartments and am astonished to the amount of spares stored aboard. It's almost an unbuilt boat inside the boat! I have enough shackles to open my own chandlery.
I still have a few important things to do such as get the outboard started and completely figure out the rigging. I also hope to get her hauled out this week for the antifouling.
With no means of charging my phone or laptop, I realise I have been gone five days and you people will be due an update, so its ashore to the local Internet bar for a burger & chips. The time is now 19:24utc and you are all up to speed.
