People who play with fire...

A static sailor who abandoned his GRP boat on the side of the communal slipway had a very efficient stainless steel woodburner rigged up in the mainsaloon.  When fired up and reaching its maximum output, you had to open the mainhatch doors and release the stifling heat, it was so fierce.  Better to be too warm than too cold most say.  Maybe better to more econmical with feeding fiendish fires me thinks.  Or better still install a safer heating method. 

Captain Haddock's idea of a boat warming party!                           © Georges Remi

At 37º.1167ºN, 7.6500ºW, the winters here are far from Arctic.  But perhaps its that eternal link of romanticism and boats, that leads some to invest in a wood burner, emitting that ambient glow, even when the thermometer still reads plus Celsius.  I profess to only knowing this one boat around these shores, boasting the woodburner with its shiny inox exterior and flickering flame interior, for about 2 months of the year, the rest of the time gathering dust and taking up space during the long sweltering months of the summer.  Left in the wrong hands, it can all go hideously wrong.  Add to the fire cocktail a large dose of alcohol consumption, you have a potential disaster waiting to happen. 

One early morning, that's exactly what occured.  The owner's daughter loves to visit and to her, rightly so,  it is a cheap destination, with free accommodation at hand.  She also is quite partial to 'partying', involving  much merryment as the amber liquid flows freely.  Boating and boozing has, in my opinion always been on the high fatal list of, 'this could be the last thing you ever do'.  Alcohol related deaths involving boats are endless.  Fortunately this tale had a happier ending.  No-one perished and the numerous wooden fishing boats hauled up on the slip for repair were spared from incineration.

The boat is really going nowhere, and hadn't for years, the owner losing interest to head to the high seas, or even motor within the inland waters of the series of estuaries that make up the Ria Formosa. During one stormy night, while the skipper had jumped ship and left the country to celebrate the annual festivities, and neglecting to close the sea cocks, the boat had consequently dragged, heeled over and the engine room was flooded with the salty liquid.  I think the engine went on to become someone elses mooring, but that's another tale.

Early  one Sunday morning a few weeks ago, the early risers were to see what they thought was the normal smoke emissions from the said burner.  They were wrong.  It was instead, the beginnings of a small fire that allegedly began, not only from an unreliably unwomaned fire, but a cloth that had been wedged between chimney and wooden coachroof.  The cloth had ignited due to the excessive temperatures and before long an on board interior fire was taking hold.  By the time the occupants had realised what was going on, someone had called the 'Bombeiros' (Fire services).  

While a growing audience accumulated, the owners daughter, let's call her Chloe for arguments sake (and to prevent any libel suits), had begun fetching buckets of water, scooped up, conveniently from over the side and was dousing out the fire, with one other helping hand.  The dozens of residents meanwhile (mainly aging fishermen), were busy watching the topless Chloe, in her hung-over and frantic state put out the flames.  By the time she had realised her bare chested state and had swiftly hid her modesty, the flames were out, the firemen had turned up and the show was all but over.  Until the Maritime Police turned up and according to one, the Polícia Judiciária (equivalent of the CID) wanting to take statements and no doubt ask a lot of questions.

I'm not sure if it's worth stating the obvious moral to this tale, but my guess is everyone would, no doubt, have a lot of fun creating one. Mine would be, when cavorting with fire on a boat, best ye dress for any eventuality.

Police and Thieves

I prefer the live version by The Clash any day, (no offence to the original recording by Junior Murvin, which I am also partial to), to the cold harsh reality of what is happening more and more in this region of Portugal.  The two songs are poles apart with their musical versions, Murvin was totally outraged by Joe Strummer and his crew, claiming "They have destroyed Jah work."  Much the same can be said about our rapidly dividing society,  as many residents liken the polititians to "that murdering Government.".  The snowball effect is gaining speed.

It's sad but true, events as I am about to reveal, are becoming an all too regular occurance.  One morning, after arriving to check on my boat, run the engine, the usual weekly check-ups, I found more activity than normal around the fishing huts.

It turned out that the previous night, someone had decided it would be a great idea to steal 700 kilos of octupus, (estimated price of €2,100.00),  that were being stored overnight on a fishing boat, that was drying out on the communal slipway.  If that wasn't enough, the culprits stole a 5m fishing boat to make their get-a-way!

The outrageous news travelled fast, and soon rumours were coming back from Faro, but nothing more was forthcoming.  My guess is, the snatchers of the cephalopods had hoofed it already to Spain, selling quickly their hord and that would be the end of it.  The Polícia Marítima used the occasion to do what, it appears, they do best.

Their grand achievement of the day would be to take the 8m R.I.B out with 300hp to propel them up and down the Ria Formosa, trying to look as intimidating as possible, (wearing a Walther semi automatic on the hip helps), forgetting about legal speed limits and all the wildlife above and below the waterline they would be traumatising.  Let's face it, this was the excuse they needed to do just that and only that.  No one had the cojones to tell them they were only zooming around in the wake of the thieves, wasting time and money.

As a dark cloud loomed above this small fishing community, it was becoming clear, the thieves had won and the owner of the fishing boat was at least €2,100.00 out of pocket.

Long gone are the days I used to leave the boat and whizz off to land in the tender, leaving the mainhatch open so wide it looked like my boat was yawning.  If you don't lock, bolt, alarm or simply take with, it will grow legs.  It's almost tempting to set a trap for the thieving opportunists, they are getting so predictable!  Now that's got me thinking!!  A trussed up robber covered in tar and feathers is coming to mind as the imagination begins to flow.  Not too far from these shores, they hack off your hands for stealing.  Is that going too far in a society that is fast becoming uncivilized?

FINAL RELIEF - Day 5

I don't have to waffle on anymore with further boatyard antics as I think this video says it all...!! 

Much later on, I re-anchored in a calming breeze and hopped in the dinghy to meet friends for a well earned dinner.  On our return dinghy journey, together with my blue rinsed hair friend, the tide and wind were both against us, so we had to walk the dinghy upstream to compensate for the elements. Unfortunately the tide was also low, so we found ourselves slopping around in thigh high mud, which aided greatly to us slipping and sliding about, not to mention the odd nick or two on our feet from sharp critters or rubbish hidden in the putrid mud.  With our spirits flagging and a second attempt to reach the boat ending in another failure, we rightly decided to head back into the town of Ayamonte, to find a bar and sit out till the end of the tide, when at least, we would only have the wind against.  At least I knew my way around the boatyard and we headed directly to the tap, to wash off the oil based, slightly pongy and penetrating mud, so we would at least be accepted inside a bar.

Ayamonte is a great town and like most in Spain, the nightlife usually kicks off around 23.00.  We located a bar with relative ease and quickly ordered two capirinhas, not a Spanish but Brazlian drink, after I had spotted the famous Cachaça 55 bottle on their glass shelf.  The popular cocktail, turned out to be the best I had ever had and we promptly ordered another while watching the time.

I'm confident now, it actively helped us getting back to the boat at a slightly later time of 2.00 something in the morning. It was still an epic row back against the wind, but we made it. Ahh it's always the simple things in life appreciated and we both fell asleep with smiles on our faces.