It's 2300 and it's been a very long day that started at 0530. I'm still in shock that after all this time Alba is actually outdoors and wet. The whole day has been damp, grey and drizzly; not quite foggy but light spit off and on all day. I can't say that I actually noticed any of it.
I've told Lisa it's the second-most happiest day of my life.
The move went absolutely flawlessly. Steve, the truck driver, arrived early and didn't seem rushed at all, so I had a few moments to show him around below. Mongo had been there helping since 0830. Lisa and the rest of the peanut gallery all arrived around 0930.
I'd been trying to do twenty things at the last minute to get as ready as possible and left the crane rigging to the last minute. My mistake, we couldn't find enough slings, four, to pick the boat. We found only three. As time dribbled by, I became a bit frustrated that "it" wasn't going to happen after getting so close.
After a few minutes it dawned on me that maybe I could rent some slings from United Rental right across the street. Well, I couldn't rent any, but I walked out with two 16' and two 12'. The jerks didn't have enough stock to produce four of either size. But my mating them with 2 of AAA's long slings and with my 2 short slings and the 4 new ones, we were finally able to reeve up enough long straps to pick the boat out of the cradle.
From there it was off to the races. Mongo, his son, Andrew, and a friend of theirs along with Dave, Doc, Buddy, three of my "old model trains" buddies, came to root for the home team. They all helped with padding and taglines, and so on. Mark, one of my AAA Friday beer-30 buds, took pics, helped a bit, ran out for a cauldron of coffee, and brought up the rear of the convoy.
1130 - Loaded and on the road, the 15 miles to the marina took the best part of an hour. We stayed off the Interstate and crept down State Road, an industrial two-laner that parallels the river. MD! in the lead, the load, and the chase convoy of 6 cars, all with their lights on, (like a funeral), inching along at 20mph. The driver didn't mind, he told me later.
We arrived at the marina around lunch time. At the marina office, Karl, "Tricky" and Tom were having lunch. "The formalities" were about as informal as any I've ever experienced. Karl barely looked at my ins binder, "Looks fine. We'll be out in a bit."
1330ish - "They have eighty years' experience between them." someone said. Consummate professionals. A 35-ton forklift pick her up and gently lowered her into the water.
Stepping the mast, also lifted with the forklift, was "interesting." The mast is so slick, they were afraid of raising it with a sling, a sling rigged as a "choker", so they decided to rig a noose around the base of the mast going up to the fork. That worked but got complicated when it came time to remove the line now firmly wedged under the haunches of the mast. A pry bar and a knife later and the mast was stepped. Oh! I forgot to mention... we stepped the mast after she was afloat.
As soon as the boat was in the water we all noticed, more or less at the same time, that she was riding at her design waterline... 4" below my painted waterline. Then, after the mast was in place, she became really tender. The only I can describe the sensation as that she feels "tippy" and the yard and sail aren't even bent on yet. She, IMHO, needs more ballast.
Then the fun started.
Their work done, the marina mob wandered off to do other things and left us to sort ourselves out. The boat was in the water. The mast was rigged and standing up. We were alone; six of us at that point. Time for the time honored traditions. All six of us repaired below and sat in the cabin, three on the cap'n's berth and three on the chart table. Mongo surprised me with a boxed set of 6 liqueur glasses and Lisa produced a bottle of champagne. We didn't do the breaking the bottle on the bow thing. We drank and proposed toasts. There's a very moving "thank you" speech by yours truly on video (somewhere) and good sentiments and wishes were exchanged in abundance. A good time was being had by all, (within the constraints of drinking alcoholic beverages on Federal Property.)
The skylight produces all the light needed during the day. I mention this because I happened look down at the sole and saw a very bright reflection in the bilge which should have been dark and dull. (There's a fair sized crack at the hinge side of each sole hatch for ventilation.) ??? I opened up the hatch and OH MY GOD WE'RE SINKING! Water was up to the base of the batteries and flooding the forward bilges... and flooding the engine bilge.
Party over. I moved everyone off the boat except Mongo and I. Mongo manned the pump, which really moved the water out fast, and I started hunting the leak(s?). There are only two holes in the boat; the raw water inlet and it was dry; and the sink bilge outlet and it's well above the waterline. In a few cold minutes I managed to put enough light into the engine compartment far enough back and far enough down to see a leaking pintle throughbolt. HTF did THAT happen? (It was always dry back there. Oops.)
One of the castaways went off to tell the Consummate Pros we were sinking. Just another day at the marina for them. They hauled her back out with the Travel-all, set her on blocks while still in the slings, and we pulled bolts and they worked some kind of magic with 5200. Bolts back in, we went back into the drink. Tricky warped her around to the dock and we tied up. Alone again.
Time to head for the new slip. The engine tried to get started and quit altogether. We gave it hell for a few hours and then our staminas and the light faded and the park was closing.
"Now that the boat's finished the maintenance can start." -- Said some merry wit recently.
Thank You Bertrand, Lisa, Mongo, Brian, Joe, Mickey, Buddy, Jim, Bobby, Peter, Rolly, Melvin, Mimi, Andrew, Alicia, Jarret, Zack, Maurice, Jeffrey, Andrew, Mike, Andrew, and you too.
MD!