Refreshed by brief sojourn in the USA, I redouble my boatyard efforts. Um, actually I am very jet-lagged and when things do happen I generally stand around and watch.
The engine! A single cylinder of raw diesel torque. She is ready. You will remember that she had a hard passage through middle age, spending a lot of this period submerged.
She has since gone through a complete rebuild under the hands of Surgeon Kiyuna.
Change of tack, notice nautical language, I have attached all the rigging complex to the mast. Next step is to raise the the damn thing. I entice a theoretical physicist to aid. They are the best in a tight corner.
We, or to be truthful, I , make a complete mess of it. There are many ropes, blocks, lifts, associated to the mast. They tangle, they intertwine, they sulk, thank God for a theoretical physicist.
Anyway we succeed, after several raisings and lowerings, to get the mast and all rigging in more or less the right place.
Today I rush down to Ginowan and find the Yanmar nestling in the boat.
“When did you do this Kiyuna san?” I mean you need a crane and stuff.
“When you were sleeping, Neil san.”