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One lump or two Not
really much to write about this month other than the weather, which
dominates life and death. No doubt about it this is the coldest place we
have ever lived in. Doesn’t matter whether it’s called Fahrenheit or
Celsius it all comes out as cold. During the day we manage a sunny and
relatively warm -7°C
or so. ‘course when you get in an exposed bit of town or on deck the
wind chill rapidly knocks off another ten degrees or so. On Hannah we have
our own microclimate as, once the stove is lit, the temperature climbs to
a steady twenty-eight C or so. We’ve mastered the art of using hard coal
and manys the time, like now, the stove exhibits a cherry red glow as the
coals heat up. During the night we let fire go out, too lazy to get up,
and consequently the temperature is hovering minus twelve Celsius when we
rise……. Movements tend to
be hurried at that point as we drag icy clothes over warm bodies at the
same time attempting to light the cooker. The weather forecast for today
warned of wind chill temperatures of minus twenty to minus forty
Fahrenheit. But luckily it has been a little more sheltered here. But at
these temperatures skin tingles very quickly from exposure. It’s easy to
see why Inuit males have evolved with little or no facial hair. Beards are
a real no no in this climate. No doubt I’ll shave when we leave… For
the last week the cold has been consistent and the river has continued to
ice. Today Bee looked out and realised the consistency of the ice looked,
well different and before long we understood why. The
day Boston got 3feet of snow
Naturally whilst we were taking the shots, Toots appeared to check out what the bipeds were doing so no doubt we’ll see a repeat of her last escapade. Once again in the early hours of the morning we’re awakened by a pitiful whimpering as Toots comes back on board, leaps onto the bed and announces, by a vigorous shake that she has fallen in the water- (Goons anyone) Luckily she hadn’t gone fully under but it took several days for her to fully warm up and her ears which used to stick up with little tufts, now droop slightly.
December will be remembered as
the month we tried out alternative heating when we realised that our
trusty stove had developed a leak around the water jacket. At first sight
it looked as though the pipe had rusted through and we decided immediately
to buy the coal fired oven, a Shipmate, we had seen in a local stove shop.
Cast iron, designed for a boat and an oven rather a stove it was a
wonderful looking contraption. We checked, measured and cogitated but
finally took the plunge. It fitted but needed a convoluted set of tin
chimneys to connect to the deck head fitting. It looked "just
right" but the heat we managed to get out of was pitiful and the
weather didn’t really allow for a learning period so sadly we had to
return it. John Tani, a local sailor who has adopted us, remembered his
sister had their parents old stove and so we took possession of a genuine
fifties pot bellied stove. This produced excellent heat but was too big
for Hannah and we arranged with the wonderful "Mr Metal" to weld
up the seam of the water jacket. No doubt about it, the original Hannah
stove is an excellent heater and fits in well with the overall ambience. In
was also in December that Nancy, a friend from Quayside warned us that a
parcel was on its way containing, amongst other things, Marmite. It
arrived in January and the smile on Bee’s face as she removed 3, 500
gram jars caused her to remark, somewhat wistfully I thought, "see,
size does matter" But newspapers, yachtie mags, chocolates, cakes and
toys for Toots made us thoroughly homesick and caused a spate of "
Won’t it be great to see…" type conversations for the rest of the
day. Toots is in her element as she gives Zebedee, the catnip mice a good
seeing to, batting them from one end of the saloon to the other, leaping
onto them with a forward somersault or standing up on her hind legs and
punching away like some sort of bare knuckle fighter. Boy, the things that
pass for entertainment here is worrying. When
we first arrived in Belfast we made friends with a Texan couple who were
moored close to us. They were new to sailing but were determined to head
south for Florida and try for a different life. We talked to them, gave
them spare pilot books or charts and spent a day sailing with them to give
a confidence boost. In November they set off, battled poor weather
conditions and over the course of several weeks made it as far as Rhode
Island. In a tiny harbour with good prevailing wind protection they were
caught out when the wind blew up hard and veered into the harbour entrance
with no warning. Tied to a mooring buoy the 3 lines they had securing them
all eventually gave way despite motoring hard into the wind to ease the
strain. The waves had increased in height to such an extent the block the
buoy was secured to was lifting off the seabed and drifting them closer to
other buoys. Of course the worst happened. As the final line parted the
prop picked up a nearby buoy rope and the engine stopped. They lost their
boat on the rocks, escaping with their lives and a couple of bags of
clothes. Somehow, knowing the couple and their boat accentuated everything
and left me physically shaken. On
Christmas day a local man who had befriended us visited. We didn’t see
him as we were chopping wood sheltering in the lee of our van. He left a
present, which on opening contained a box of hand made sausages. Now the
box was lovely but obviously the contents were something else. We
re-wrapped them and handed them onto Steve and Sue who live on a Vertue a
couple of boats down. Steve had them open and began eating before Bee had
completed the story. However we met our benefactor in a shop in town and
he asked how we had liked the sausages…. We hesitated and then he said
"Actually my daughter gave them to me and I can’t bear things like
that so thought you’d be a worthy home" We confessed their final
destination to his delight and he went off chuckling. Feb. We went scallop fishing today, actually we went in the boat and Phil, the Captain went diving for scallops. I kid you not. To leave the harbour required some serious breaking of ice before we could move his boat. Once in the fairway we found our passage blocked by huge fields of ice. Varying in depth from half inch to two inches it creates a strong sshhhhhhhh sound as we travel slowly through it. We had visions of Hannah being forced to a stand still if we had tried the same manoeuvre. Once we arrived at the fishing ground Phil donned a dry suit and launched himself over the side. In the shelter of the wheelhouse with a welcome sun streaming down it still grew cold and here is this sane and, to all intents, normal guy swimming around twenty feet below us in freezing cold water. "Hell no" he said "its around 35°". OK hair splitter it still looks cold to me.
He did a total of five dives to
collect a half-bucket of scallops. He also collected umpteen golf balls,
pottery from a three masted schooner that had sunk seventy-five years ago
and a couple of interesting bottles. As Phil collected he dumped the
shells in a bag and when we collected him the bag was hauled up and Howard
began "shucking" them. Shucking is an operation whereby a knife
is inserted into the shell to prise it open. Part of the contents are then
slit away and dumped whilst the scallop, a white muscle, is also slit from
the shell and saved in a bucket of water. The remnants of the scallop are
then scraped off the shell and eaten or at least they are if Howard is
doing the job. No doubt Toots would have helped but she had jumped ship
earlier as we were leaving the dock. Scallops are a real delicacy,
apparently, and the catch would be sold before we even got back to harbour.
Getting back proved to be harder than leaving as the lack of wind allows
the ice to form unhindered and progress was slow as we had to drive a
pathway through the thickening ice. Bee has been reading a book on a couple who marooned themselves, deliberately, somewhere in Greenland and experienced minus FIFTY before the wind chill set in. Of course her conversation is now littered with "….suppose we stayed….." Rather like the time we went snowshoeing for the first time. The shoes, a bit like tennis racquets for giants, were strapped to our feet and off we set. I swear we hadn’t gone more than ten steps when Bee said " Do you think we could snow shoe across the Antarctic………" Watch this space
And finally as we write this
it’s Saturday Feb 5th, one of the local papers has printed on
article on us and we’re busy planning our escape. Come April we hope to
be on the move once again, heading for Nova Scotia and beyond. The weather
has turned spring like with temperatures getting up to 5°C and we
entertain thoughts of removing the tarp. As ever locals caution against
it-we still have another two months of winter to get through they say-
but… And then we found a pumpkin pie sculling around on the floor of a friend’s car. Unloved and unwanted we promptly rescued it and took it back the security of Hannah. Unfortunately the pie, previously frozen had been knocking around since Christmas getting hot and cold for a month and when cooked tasted………. |
