Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
a thrill out of hobnobbing with the salty visitors crossing the canal. They had never set foot
on anything afloat, but they kept the club in business, and what was wrong with that?
We strolled over to the bar and stood at an open spot, looking about with childish grins on
our faces. A friendly man in a uniform turned to us, “Twins eh, you guys passing through
on a boat?”
“Yes, we just got in on Déjà vu.”
“OK, I heard you on the radio. I am a pilot with the canal; where are you from?”
“South Africa,” I replied.
“No kidding! I thought I recognized an accent, just you and your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Are you anchored in the flats?”
“In the swamps you mean!” piped in Gavin. “We'll have to leave half an hour early just to
row back.”
The pilot laughed, “I saw the boat on my way over; d' you guys build her?”
“My brother did. I helped a bit, but he and his wife did most of it.”
“She looks old-fashioned but solid.”
“Thanks,” I smiled.
“What are you guys drinking? Let me buy you a round.”
“Oh, that's very decent of you; you want a beer, Gavin? I'll have one too, thank you very
much. I'm Jonathan, and this is Gavin,” I introduced us.
“I'm Al,” returned the pilot. “Originally from the States, been here twenty years, piloting
all kinds'sa boats through the canal.”
The barman brought us a cold beer each, and we toasted our new friend, taking a deep draft
of the ice cold, frothy beer. It was heavenly after the warm drinks we had endured on the
boat for weeks.
Al was very friendly and obviously enjoyed our company as he talked a lot and opened his
heart to Gavin and I. We could tell he was a regular here at the yacht club bar. We got to
talking about home and our past life and somehow got onto the subject of guitars.
“You play guitar?” he asked us.
