- Slowly, surely, the plan comes together. Catarina still languishes on supports in the busy, dry, sometimes wet and windy nook of the boatyard. Amidst the comings and goings of so many other boats, she has been enjoying the ministrations of dozens of pairs of hands, powerhosing, scraping, epoxying, sanding and painting her hull with several coats of antifouling.
A few more minor additions later, a final clean and buff, and she should be ready to float again. She’d like that, and so would we. It’s not much fun in the boatyard, just hanging out with the flocks of local hornbills nesting in the neighboring casuarinas, listening to the far off calls of the fish eagle. Keeping her company, the neighboring boats in close proximity, are in various stages of their own spa treatments, all in readiness for their own star studded debuts once back in the water. Like schoolgirls, I imagine they giggle and whisper together in the quiet of the night, discussing their own personal destinies. Some will travel to Mocambique or onwards, on fishing excursions, carrying the dream of the best catch in the Skipper’s heart. Some will happily ferry families on breezy holidays to romantic sounding places. Some have carefully formulated plans, some have not. Some might brave storms, some might not. Some are destined to just sit another long season in the dusty boatyard, forgotten under ragged tarpaulins, waiting for their owners to fall in love again, bring them to life and reconcile them once again with the sea and all she has to offer.