More rain. We dropped the ladies off right by the station in Amsterdam who bottled the crossing back to the UK. The forecast was anything up to a Force 7 so it was hardly surprising they took the easy route back, but that’s not what sailing is all about! Instead the rest of us waited in Ijmuiden for the bad weather to pass. De ja vu from a year ago!
After leaving our yachthaven in Aalsmeer, not forgetting to give the middle finger to the hairy, cigar-chomping Dutch twat who told the skipper off for borrowing a hose (that wasn’t even his), we headed towards Amsterdam. Of course this involved negotiating a number of bridges which meant either approaching very slowly and hovering backwards and forwards until the bridge opened, or, more sensibly, tying up to the posts provided on the side of the canal.
My early sailing career taught me a lot of things about life at sea. Perhaps the biggest lesson was how to get on with fellow crew members. It’s something I’m still learning. Occasionally, however, there are times when one comes across certain types of people whose behaviour is beyond one’s control. No amount of swabbing the decks or slaving in the galley will ever make life easier on board and this can be compounded by a long journey where getting off the boat is not an option.
After a chat and a beer we got to know the boat and I made the schoolboy error of choosing the smallest bunk in the fore cabin. Twat. My fears of an uncomfortable sleep, however, were dispelled after my first night aboard Voyager.
My, my, how circumstances change. All of a sudden I find myself without purpose and a lot of time on my hands doing nothing but sunbathing. No bad thing, I hear you say, but this hadn’t been the plan.