Bryan writes... I think this second instalment of Confessions is well
overdue...
As we returned from a beach BBQ last night, I thought the Yamaha outboard
was running a bit rough. It was dark, I'd had a few glasses, so this was
one 'challenge' I'd sleep on. Sure enough, she's still running rough the
next morning. I changed the fuel tank over as I wasn't one hundred percent
sure I'd got the two stroke mix right. No improvement. I flipped the lid
off the engine. Hmm... I'll need a couple of tools to check the fuel filter
and maybe clean the plugs. Not something I've done before, but I've not let
that stop me in the past. And then I noticed that the choke had been
knocked out. The too-rich fuel mix had been causing the rough running. And
a sleepless night.
Another confession on the bread making front. We've had a run of nice
weather this week, and been doing a load of snorkelling, beach walks, wake
boarding, fishing.... you get the picture... to make the most of it.
Secondary tasks, like baking bread, have been taking a, well, secondary
role. On one occasion, Helen kayaked back from the beach to the boat to
knead two loaves she had mixed before we headed out (about 3 hours before)
and set up the second rise (which was left for another 2 hours). She left
the bread in the oven for over a day (kept forgetting to take it out (err,
at least she did switch it off..) after baking. The end result, brick like
bread, pale on the outside and grey and doughy in the middle. Helen has
insisted that I (fairly) add a foot note stating that she has made some
great bread as well, especially the garlic and olive loaves.
We make a habit of wearing lifejackets whenever we're in the dinghy. I
prefer to wear my self-inflating one... until my friend knocked it into the
water soaked bottom of the dinghy one day: PFFFTTFFFFFFF... as it activated
the CO2 cylinder and springs into life. We, at least we know the things
work.
Following the above incident, we started to wear our water-ski type jackets
in the dinghy. It would be fair to say that we all ate more than our fair
share when on the BIOT boat (the Military fisheries patrol boat responsible
for policing Chagos) for their BBQ for the yachts earlier this week. When
we went to leave I found that the lifejacket I'd picked up didn't fit as it
had on the way over- ahh, I must have picked up Alex's by mistake... Nope,
just too much steak and ice cream (ok - and one or 2 beers!)...
We have a single mooring warp (rope) on the dinghy, which we clip the dinghy
anchor onto when we need it. Just for a laugh, we've also got in the habit
of yelling "deploy the anchor!" in Hollywood navy style as we approach the
beach or snorkelling spot or wherever we're planning on anchoring. On one
occasion a day or two back, I yelled "deploy the anchor", and passed the
anchor to Helen assuming she would then attach the rope to connect it to the
dinghy. Without looking behind her, Helen grabs the anchor and holds it
over the side looking at a sand spit below, "Here?". Alex and I are
speechless - but just found enough words to advise the anchor in her hand
was not attached to the rope and would have been lost overboard if she had
released it!
While we are on the subject of confessions on behalf of Helen - not long
after we arrived in Chagos, Erin and Helen set out in the dinghy to send
some emails via the computer of a neighbouring yacht while our email was out
of action. I was down below just as they launched the boat and heard my
name being called (loudly!). The pair of them had managed to launch
themselves in the dinghy, with a strong current carrying them towards the
reef, but they had neglected to take the starter cord and Erin had let go of
the rope holding them onto Aroha. Helen was frantically trying to undo the
oars. With no thought to my own safety or enough time to put my underpants
over my trousers and paint an "S" on my chest, I set out in the kayak to
save the hapless muppets (sorry - damsels!)
We seem to have more than our fair share of dinghy confessions this time
'round. I suspect that this next one is a case of "you had to be there",
but I'll try writing it down anyways. I usually drive the dinghy, which
leaves Helen the task of leaning over the front to pull up the little anchor
by the warp. At about this time I gave the outboard the required pull on
the starter just as Helen leant forward pointing her backside in my
direction. Unintentionally, but comic timing, my pull of the starter and
Helen bending resulted in a mighty slap of the back of my hand against Helen's
left butt cheek and left her howling in pain (my watch happened to be part
of the wrist that hit her). The really funny thing was that way the kids
both said in unison "you know you like it, mum". I've no idea where they
picked that up from.
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