I admit to having an affinity with Spain. Don't get me wrong, I adore the Portuguese and all their strange little quirks, but something has to be said about the Spanish and their 'joie de vivre'! We are all aware of the economical mess banks and governments have put this planet in for now and the ripple effect reaches us all to some degree. In this particular region of Spain, I will be hauled out not only into a huge dust bowl, but one of the poorest areas of the town. One of the first things I noticed upon landing on Spanish soil was how loud they all talk. Many would even have to say they were actually shouting, but I do know different. The Portuguese sometimes shout, they appear to be shouting, when most of us would be 'having a normal conversation.' Db wise. Let's say the average person speaks at around 65-75 decibels say at approximately one metre distance, so I reckon the Spanish speak/shout at about 35 decibels. They long to be heard, they love to be heard and they most certainly are heard.
My theory is this. Long before the days of Alexander Graham Bell, the only way of communicating across the hills, was to take a deep breath and yell your point across the yards and somehow this art of communication became deeply ingrained into the genetic make-up. In fact long after the days of Alexander Graham Bell too, for deep in the vast remote countryside, many couldn't contemplate the cost of having a telephone, let alone even the availability.
I find it very endearing and amusing as long as you don't expect to nip off to the local Café for your morning coffee, expecting a heavenly silence, with only the swallows' song and the chime of distant church bells to accompany the caffeine. Your silence will be truly broken not only with the loud, non stop banter but to accompany the cacophony of speech, the slot machines will be whirling, chinking and lighting up just about every colour under the rainbow. Buenas dias to you all!
Putting yelling aside for just one moment, I have a boat to haul out. I'm a little nervous, it's normal, so I'm attempting to keep myself busy before the tide is high enough for me to get onto the trolley. My engine this morning has decided to cough and spurt and stop. I turn the ignition once more and she again bursts into life. I think either its air in the fuel system or crud. Either way with an imminent manoeuvre on my hands, I would prefer it to just run without further hiccup.
Suddenly the trolley makes its way into the water and two guys are left hanging onto the upright stanchions of the trolley like a couple of stranded monkeys. One of them is the owner of the boatyard and he waves me in. So it's time to leave the mooring and chug over to the trolley. The engine decides en route to stop a further two times, to add a touch of drama to the approach. I haven't mentioned the fact that the steering has tightened too, so to be able to turn the tiller remotely in any direction, requires a body lean to help it notch up a few degrees.
So here I am, metres from the trolley, wind from the SW and I've made the turn too early and I'm possibly in danger of missing the trolley completely and it's nigh on impossible to steer and I'm also wondering if my engine will cut out again at a crucial time! Who needs caffeine in a noisy Café to wake you up!
I really enjoyed their no fuss and nonsense in regard to getting my boat hauled out and when in doubt as to whether my keels are sitting pretty on the trolley, get in the damn water man and check!!
When the winch kicked in, I didn't realize at first we were in fact moving at the speed of a snail up the runners. There used to be a train track from Ayamonte to Huelva and I never knew why it eventually disappeared. You can only get from one town to another via road or the sea these days, but looking down now onto the tracks that are aiding the trolley, I think I know what happened to the train track.
As I looked forward to jet washing the boat next with what had been described to me as one of the best industrial machines for the job, with a kick to it to match a land to air missile launcher, the boatyard crew were getting ready to haul out a much larger vessel.
Unbeknown to me, they took precedence over everything as they would be going back into the water on Sunday. I would only get the jet wash on Monday, so I had the weekend to complete other jobs. The great thing about that is, when you have a boat, there are no end of 'other jobs' to do!
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| All hands on deck for the haul-out |
So we are safely in our respective places for the brief time we shall be out of the water. It's now time to head to a bar, sit in the shade, get sung to, shouted at, watch someone win €80 jackpot on the smallest of slot machines and above all sink an ice cold beer!
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