Yesterday was a rest day for us lads, while others painted the bottom. My shame but their pain. A time to dream, read and reflect. I know what Chris means about Bruce Chatwin – his prose is jerky and journalistic, the flow erratic. But the subject matter is much more alive after the travelling we’ve done and I am engrossed.
I tidied up the last little twigs of Chatham Island albatross, which has lasted extraordinarily well, considering.
And this morning, Tainui was lowered ever so gently into the pond and immediately came alive. Spirits soared and we spent a gentle afternoon finishing off the 100 or so little jobs which antedate any departure.
We’re still in Piri but ready to go. A pregnant net of fresh vegetables hangs over the saloon; water and fuel tanks are full and all the little electric panels at the chart table are flashing, glowing or beeping appropriately. At last the pressure is off, and we’ve gone languid.