 Sail Redwings |
Redwings Round the World Leaving Barcelona 16 - 23 June 2000 |
| Home Page |
16 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - We arrived in Barcelona around 6 pm. Though excited to be not in air transit, I felt really grubby and under-slept. Our flight ended up being very ill- planned. We had an unnecessary layover of 7 hours in Amsterdam. Two flights to Barcelona left earlier than ours, but for some reason the ticketing agent did not put us on them (they were not full), and Amsterdam could not put us on them because our baggage had been pre-checked onto the late flight. I tried to sleep on the sliver of chair not covered by arm rests, and dreamt of stories including the every 3 minutes call for flights being announced rather loudly over the airport p.a. system. We had a rusty time trying to communicate with the taxi driver. From over a year of unuse, the Spanish out of our lips was jaunty and mixed with many Thai words, that these days comes more automatically. I did not think ahead that we were arriving at the end of the business week, 6 p.m., on a Friday, and life would shut down for the two day weekend immediately. We had to deal with the office at Marina 92 boat yard before they headed out. When they brought us up the ladder to Redwings I was a bit shocked. She was covered with caked on dirt from a year of exposure to normal port dust as well as dust from the boat yard activities. The plastic "cover" they installed for us to protect the boat managed to cut down on the UV rays, but did little to protect from the constant swirl of dirt and dust. This boat yard seemed the dirtiest I’ve ever been to. It was impossible to clean or keep anything on deck. After scrubbing down the boat, the next morning it would be covered again with a layer of gray/brown. I was afraid to keep the windows open, and unable to wash and hang anything out. The yard is so small and in such a prime city location it was stocked with super yachts side by side all doing serious refit work. Redwings was probably one of the only boats there for mere storage. Not very well planned of course, we had to wait then two more days (which ended up being three) until after the weekend to get her put back into the water. We headed off on foot to Marina Port Vell, our old "home" in search of some showers and a bunk for the night. The first boat we ran into was "Runaway". We had not seen Dick and Clare Kanter since mutual days of depression over boat repair woes in the Boat Lagoon of Phuket Thailand two and half years ago, and were shocked to see them here, they had only arrived the night before. Runaway was meant to cross the Indian Ocean and up the Red Sea with us, but 160 miles out from Phuket they had to turn back with engine issues. They missed the whole year, and had to wait again in Phuket to cross 12 months later. It was great fun catching up with them, but I was really overwhelmed at this point. I wanted to cocoon after the gross flight, and now I was being confronted by rushes of emotion for old Port Vell, and meeting memories from past lives even further back than Barcelona I was not’t even expecting to deal with. Runaway told us that we just missed La Scala, they claimed to have heard them on the radio sked head out of Barcelona a few days before. We were pretty bummed to think we missed La Scala, who had spent the whole winter in Barcelona, by only a few days after having last parted ways in Marmaris Turkey two years ago. No time to think about it we ran into Nito, of Voodoo on his way home from work. We asked if we could stay with him and Renee, and their new (to me) one year old Nana. He said no problem and we headed for Dock G where we were greeted by Renee and Nana. We chatted on the dock for a few minutes and then two boats down from them a woman yelled out in a surprised voice "Colleen?". I had not even looked at the boat in my stupor of standing there, otherwise I would have known it was Lorraine and La Scala after all!
Hugs all around then off to wash off the grime of travel in the shower of Voodoo. I enjoyed my moments alone in the shower. I was just too overwhelmed with emotions and being hit all at once by different visions of my old lives. Our experiences with Nito and Renee in Barcelona , La Scala across the Indian Ocean all the way to Turkey, and Runaway in the sweaty days of Boat Lagoon, were all so separate and significant in themselves. I was having a hard time processing it all at once. I thought this must be what its like when you die and in a few instances you flash through your life and slip by all the important people and stages all at once. It was very bittersweet. Though so joyful for the reunion, I knew I was about to pass through a death. I knew in a few days I’d be leaving Barcelona for good, and probably never to return again as a resident, nor a resident in Port Vell for sure. That part of my life that I hastily left and never said goodbye to over a year ago when I left with one suitcase and told people "I’ll be back in a month, see you soon" I had put into emotional hibernation and never really dealt with. Now I realized there were parts of that life that I loved and this was as close as it came to a home for a while, and I was soon to close the chapter for good. I never closed the chapter before because "oh I’ll be back, and we’ll see everyone, and do everything, and soak it all up before departure". Now I realized, shit you don’t even have enough hours in the day to scrub down Redwings for human habitation before Aaron’s gonna’ make you rush out like a steam engine bound for The Canaries. Moreover I was also starting to realize that in less than a month I’d be saying goodbye to Europe for good with Redwings. A place I’ve never even thought about, the Caribbean would by the end of the year become our environment. I was also saddened by the fact that our time with La Scala was certain to be brief and distracted. I wanted to sit down and talk with Lorraine for hours, but knew our upcoming schedule had little time for that. I could not believe we would propel ourselves back out of all these reconnections in only a few days. We calculated our next shot of seeing La Scala was perhaps three years away at the earliest as they were due to winter again in Barcelona then head for Brazil for quite a while. No time to think about all this, the shower is finished and you must go interact. Renee, Nito, Nana, Aaron and I headed out to walk to dinner at our old haunt, Veronica’s. We enjoyed the stroll there through the labyrinth of cobblestone narrow streets in 1000 year old Gothic Quarter by the port. We all collapsed into bed eventually too late of course with expectations of a long day ahead of us. 17 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - Today, Saturday, was a blur of boat work. There’s something indescribably depressing about what since Marmaris Turkey I always refer to as "life on the hard" (life with the boat out of the water on the hardstanding in a boat yard). Lets face it, all boat yards are hot, dusty, dirty, noisy. You have to risk your life every time you get on and off the boat going up and down a rickety ladder the equivalent of two stories, there is no water, no use of the toilets, no food or drink, etc…Confronting Redwings again after so long in this state did not elicit feelings of affection for boat life. When I last left her she was my cozy floating home in Marina Port Vell, now she was a pocket of uninhabitable dry crusty dust in a Mad Max movie. Before too long I was covered in dirt, my finger nails were black and broken, I was aching from hard physical labor. Tomas from Waif was there finishing some jobs Aaron had hired him to do over the winter (10 months to do it, gotta do it the day we get back right?) Our goal was for Aaron to do some unknown vague engine or electrical work, while I repaired the lettering on the side of the boat ripped off when the boat was in the travel lift, and then put as much anti-fouling on the bottom of the boat possible based on what's left in our last can from Turkey, before meeting La Scala for dinner on their boat at six. I made a quick trip to the wet market in Barceloneta where I always used to do my shopping. I almost cried from the nostalgia of shopping there again on my dorky little "Dorothy" (as she is called from the wizard of Oz) bike, and visiting the old cheese shop, and bakery along with the vegetable venders. We only started the anti-fouling at 5:30 as of course everything takes longer than you think, may time optimism never cease. The thinner I was using ate through the fingers of my plastic gloves in about 5 minutes, and I was antifouling with bare fingers but covered hands very stupidly. This Turkish stuff is so toxic its banned in the EU, and now I’ve got in permanently under my fingernails. By six fifteen, Aaron and I decided I better bike over to La Scala and apologize for having to be another two hours late until we finished the job. We couldn’t wash down the boat at all until this anti-fouling was on and dry, and we wanted desperately to do this tomorrow. I had a hard time getting on the Marina Docks without a security swipe card. I finally found a French couple entering a few docks down and asked them if I could borrow their card to open dock G for a moment. The gentleman took one look as me and suspicion was all over his face. He questioned that I belong to proper civilization. I realized I looked a wreck, I still had the gloves on, but all the fingers were torn of f and hanging in shreds from the thinner breaking down the latex. I was polka dotted in antifouling paint, of course my clothes were those of a bag lady (not wanting to ruin anything decent), and any other part of me had dirt on it from mere brushing against any part of Redwings all day. He insisted on accompanying me all the way to my destination to confirm that I indeed had business to do on boat G and also wouldn’t run off permanently with his swipe card. There have been a lot of thefts in the Marina, and it is surrounded by what could be described by somewhat "rough" neighborhoods. It was so humiliating. When we finally did make it over to La Scala we had a lovely time. Kel’s business partner, Bev was visiting for 5 weeks from Australia. She made a lovely Chicken stew. We left them at midnight and headed back to Voodoo for the evening. Not only were Renee, Nito and the baby still up, they had no intentions of sleeping. Back to Spanish time….. We talked with them until almost 3 m, which for sure all of our tired bodies had no need to do. Poor Nito had to be up at 8 am to go check on a huge neon sign for a Casino Supermarket he was installing upcountry. 18 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - Sunday was filled with scrubbing every inch of the boat as much as I could. Unfortunately it was a bit overcast, and a little chilly to be covered in suds and water for hours. Aaron was caught up in some more vague engine/electrical work. He came out to help in the late afternoon. 19 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - Monday was a serious low point for me. Three late nights in a row, two days of heavy labor in a row, I was starting to fail. It probably didn’t help that after my full day’s scrub of the boat less than 24 hours later she was covered in boatyard dust. I wanted to attack cleaning the inside of the boat, but our cockpit hose was permanently stuck on, draining our water supply anytime the water pump was on. I thought I couldn’t get water to wash down the interior until this was fixed. In hindsight, I could have just clamped it, but I was evidently was thinking very intelligently at this point. Aaron and I tried to get through-hulls opened by greasing them up etc. In the process we broke one, and its now permanently shut. The forward toilet can not be used until we get hauled out again and the through-hull is replaced. Auuggh!, memories of boat frustrations come rushing back. We are still not in the water, though supposed to be. I think I just hit the wall. Aaron and I broke for lunch by going to a great Italian joint by Marie del Mare church with brick oven pizza. As soon as I sat down I didn’t think I could hold it anymore. I blurted out my order to Aaron to transfer to the waiter and headed for the toilet to cry. I think I just need the physical release of those tear chemicals to get through this. The cry didn’t work out very well as my contacts got stuck inside my head, very uncomfortable, and hard to retrieve with such thinner and detergent coated hands. I guess I haven’t cried that much, I forgot that it’s a really bad deal with contacts. Also there was only one common sink for men and women, so I was constantly being interrupted. When I got back to the table and told Aaron I was crying, he was surprised and confounded as any man would be. He tried to "fix" it by saying, don’t worry we’ll be out of here in a day. That made me feel like crying even more, I didn’t want to get ripped away from these people or this place, and that was probably half the problem. Aaron headed uptown to a hardware store after lunch and I felt I just need to go somewhere and finish my cry. I wasn’t sure where. I needed a break from the boatyard. I went to see Runaway, as Aaron and I wanted to ask them to have dinner together one night. No one there. Where to go? I realized the perfect place was the end of the jetty in Puerto Olympico. No one ever goes out there, the sea crashes against the rocks. I used the go running out there when we lived in Barcelona. And the bike ride along the beachfront of Barceloneta there is lovely. It was hard to keep the tears in as I biked along. Who should I see walking in front of me checking out the topless bathers but Runaway! Somehow I felt it was meant to be. I felt like I was repeating a the same conversation from another time. My relationship with them started over commiseration with boat trauma in Thailand. Here I was again. Does boat life never change? I found it depressing be on the other side of the world looking for comfort from them. Hasn’t Redwings come farther than the state she was in in the boat lagoon? I walked my bike along with them until Puerto Olympico where they were getting haircuts. It was comforting to talk them, and they got me further excited to join the ARC rally across the Atlantic from the Canaries to the Caribbean. They did it themselves 13 years ago, loved it, and are doing it again this year. They were helping us get the info to join. We parted ways and I was off for the jetty. At the end of the jetty I sat down and finally had my cry. It really felt better. Like having to go the bathroom, it’s a fact, you wait till you can let it out, then you do, its over, and you’re purely body function need has been satisfied. Since then I have truly felt better and actually pretty much enjoyed all the labors to get Redwings ready for voyage, as well as each moment I would still have in Barcelona. I began to look forward to sailing, even crossing the Atlantic, and the Caribbean. This is no small feat for someone who has been living with a suppressed vague dread of sailing since we tied up to the dock in Barcelona two years before. The voyage across the Med was so shadowed by unpleasant sailing and dreadful docking and anchoring dramas, not to mention system failure nightmares and endless weeks in repair mode that I was totally put off and burnt out. I knew the day of reckoning was coming and was wondering all along how I would face it. Hell, I even wanted to put Redwings up for sale last August. We had decided to and Aaron finally said he couldn’t bare it. That evening we had a very late supper with Nito and Renee. Being Spain, we didn’t eat till near midnight. Nito cooked some fresh tuna a neighboring boat caught, and I made guacamole and mashed potatoes. 20 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - As soon as she was in the water (albeit still in the boat yard, but in the water) on Tuesday morning, the joys of living aboard came flushing back. Aaron and I were a bit shock when we bicycled over from Port Vell to the yard to see she was already float in the travel lift when we arrived!!! Can one believe the yard put her in without checking to see if through-hulls were shut etc?? The boat was locked and they asked me for the key so they could "drive" it around. Inconceivable. I said to wait as Aaron would arrive momentarily. In fact the through hull to the watermaker feed was open (from our greasing/opening exercise of the day before) and water was actually rushing in as the pipe internally to the water maker was disconnected. Thank god Aaron arrived shortly, and she probably wasn’t in too long, but the bilge was flooded up to the front of the boat. We should have given them shit for such unprofessional conduct, but were actually just so overjoyed to see her float (well I suppose technically for a moment there she was on her way to sinking until Aaron hit the bilge pump) and the engine actually FIRED UP on the first crank!!! A few minutes after pumping the bilge, the bilge pump stopped working. Time for the manual. We had trouble priming it. Aaron changed bilge pumps in the engine room, while I manually siphoned out the grime of the bilge now caught in the forward bilge. Even doing this rather unpleasant job, I wasn’t bothered in the least and merrily going along my way. I guess I was over whatever kind of blockage I got through the day before. As I moved around the boat, every corner carried a different memory of some where, some time in the world between Hong Kong in 1997, and Barcelona in 1999. Glimpses of the cats, Basil and Sybil, passed along, memories of certain moments with Kerry and Laura, different impressions left by the various guest crews and visitors along the way. In the next few days instances of the two years living on Redwings floated through my mind involuntarily as I moved throughout the boat doing work. I thought back to the beginning of our first passage with John Potter, and all his explanations of the boat’s workings and his adventures with Caroline on Redwings. As I would see a certain fitting put on by Paul Duggan, our first crew member in Hong Kong I relived our passage in the South China Sea. A handle installed by the bathroom per suggestion of Penny Carter and her gift stove lighters brought me through memories of the Raja Muda… It went on from there…… I began the task of cleaning Redwings out of crap, she should have lost the first week she was in Barcelona. Cans of food had rusted through and leaked in certain places making an awful mess. Everything had to be taken out of cubbies and scrubbed down. I made the cathartic decision to clean out most of the old provisions. Hell, I don’t want to eat food I bought Hong Kong three years ago even if it was still good. Moreover, who’s kidding who, most of the food still on the boat not eaten is because its food we don’t like and wouldn’t have bought anyway, but had to because we had no refrigeration for so long. As I happily chucked the many cans of peas we never ate I chuckled thinking of Laura and when she urged me to buy them in Phuket. Good bye Spam. Out you wretched dried cup of instant noodles full of MSG from Malaysia. Hell, I’m in the Med, and I got refrigeration!!!! I ain't never eating that junk again! With no plans to cruise the South Pacific, I realized Redwings had maybe permanently entered the world of continuous access to yummy food! Runaway said provisioning in the Canaries was dreamlike. There were however, some conflicting emotions about getting rid of cans of cat food, even for Aaron. That was hard. Somehow we still think Basil may come back and we better have food for him? We want them around to feed some cats we may find in the future in distant ports, but then, do we really need to be burdened by carrying cans and cans of cat food around the world in a small boat with limited storage space when you don’t have a damn cat. Logically the decision was easy; emotionally, a little hard to carry through. I gave away all but three "back up" cans. The whole destocking experience was very releasing, and in a way, I think contributed to my transition to thinking about the future on Redwings not necessarily being a repeat of the past. We lunched at the Italian joint again. Much better this day, my trip to the bathroom was confined to urinating. All along the guys are working on installing our radar. Don’t ask me. This damn thing was purchased a year and a half ago in the states, Aaron put off installing it 8 months, until we went in the boat yard, and they put off installing for a further 9 months until we get back. This is a depressing essay in procrastination. In fact the only official excuse of why we haven’t left Barcelona yet,nor the damn boat yard, is we are waiting for the radar installation to finish, its only coincidental that we aren’t at all ready. I went over to Runaway for our dinner date an hour earlier than Aaron. They ran me through details on the ARC and gave me the info to sign up. We walked up to one of our old favorite restaurants with them, La Luna Plena, past the Picasso Museum in the Gothic Quarter. They serve country style Catalan food in a quiet little environment, for very good value. We really enjoyed swapping tales with Runaway. Being almost 70 years old each, and having cruised on their boat for over 13 years, they have lots of interesting life and boat experiences that are great to hear about to put it all in perspective. 21 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - The day was a blur of more boat jobs. More lockers to clean out, etc, etc...We met up with La Scala for dinner. Aaron suggested we go to Pizzeria Veronica. I was a bit skeptical, as I didn't think Kel would go for the uh, rather youthful and over casual atmosphere. I had been telling Lorraine that Port Vell is actually surrounded by some pretty spicy neighborhoods. I don't think she quite believed me until we ate dinner at Veronica's. There were five of us, and the waiter insisted it was "house policy" that for two tables together we needed six on the terrace, and we only had five, so we were stuck at a small four seater. Kel and I were not impressed and considered it crazy, while the rest of them shushed us up. I don't know what was going on, but the Plaza was full of basically, vagrants and winos to put it bluntly. About 40 people were sitting around drinking directly out of wine and beer bottles. A man and a kid got into a "fight" and the kid was throwing bricks at him? Every half hour a new wino came up to bum a cigarette off of Kel. La Scala was "fascinated" by the uhm, ah, "colorful" ambience of the neighborhood. Aaron and I went back to sleep on Redwings for the first time. I truly felt great to sleep in the aft cabin again finally. 22 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - The biggest job for me of the day was provisioning. I took the suggestion for La Scala and Renee on Voodoo that the easiest way of handling things was to walk to the Mecca of Cortes Ingles department store (also housing the most sophisticated supermarket in its basement), and taxi back all the goods. We were constantly in the area of Cortes Ingles and the Plaza Catalunia when living in Barcelona. So the 20 minute walk there was actually a bit of a treat through the streets of the Gothic area. The haul of goods from Cortes Ingles took most of the afternoon, to purchase, transport, and stow. I thought it a little weird to be stuffing Redwings with food again after just cleaning her out.
It was nice for us to stay there, not just for the free convenient berth, but also because time was so limited, being able to interact with them in the morning and evenings meant we could spend time with them we wouldn't have been able to if not staying there. 23 June - Marina 92, Barcelona Colleen - Our final day in Barcelona. I was off for fresh veggie and fruit provisioning in the Barceloneta market. I rigged up the 'ol Dorothy bike with all kinds bungy cords and bags to be able to transport it all back. First to the cheese/deli shop. I had frequented this place at least once a week when living in Port Vell. I explained to the owner that we were off for a long sea passage so that he would vacuum seal all the goods to last longer. As a "momento" of Barceloneta he gave me a tee-shirt and baseball cap from what must have been that year's Barceloneta neighborhood festival. I loaded up on bread at the bakery, and all kinds of fruits and veggie's in the central wet market. Before leaving I sat to take a cafe con leche in the middle of the market. I really savored the moment, knowing it was my last goodbye. We worked through the afternoon readying the boat. We had a very long session of re-rigging Redwings putting the mainsail back on etc.. Tonight would be the eve of the Saint Juan festival in Barcelona, one of the biggest there is. Everyone had their own plans on ways to celebrate. Nito, Renee, and Nana were off for a fancy dinner at the Ritz Carlton with Nito's parents. Nito's real name is Juan, as is his father's, so this was an extra auspicious event for them. La Scala had plans to go see the firework display focused over the Placa de Espana They were leaving around 9, and left the invitation open for us to join. I'm afraid we were both so beat, and eager to have a reasonably early night ahead of the big departure in the morning that we couldn't socialize with anyone and opted out of the whole festival. Even though we chose to spend the eve of Saint Juan in the isolation of the boat yard, we still were reminded of all the festivities around us. There were fireworks, bonfires 'till dawn across the road on the beach etc... Back to Previous Log / Forward to Next Log Copyright ©2000 All Rights Reserved by Aaron Henderson and Colleen Duggan |
