Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Jon does,” replied Gavin.
“Well, I got a guitar for you if you like. Do you have one on-board?”
“Actually, I do, but Gavin has been talking about playing again.”
“Well, if you guys want one you can have mine. I know I'll never play the thing, and it's
just sitting at home gathering dust.”
“Well, that's very kind of you, Al,” Gavin thanked him, warmly grinning.
I spoke of my earliest guitar that I had been given by my father, and the next line I uttered
would haunt me for the rest of my life. Gavin would never let me live this one down, and
we still laugh about it half a lifetime later. I was tired from the recent couple of days at sea,
and the beers were getting to me, and I blurted, “My father buyed me a guitar when I was
eight years old.”
I realized my error a split second after I said it but couldn't do anything about it. Al preten-
ded not to hear, being the nice guy he was. Gavin stored it away for future use with a glint
in his eye. In fact, as he was rowing his turn back to Déjà vu that night, he quipped in the
heavy Afrikaans vernacular, “Jars, my farver buyed me a guitars!”
“Yeah yeah, I fucked up big time, so what! I was tired, but at least I got you a guitar.
We must remember to pick it up tomorrow evening from Al; he said he would be there at
around eightish.”
The following morning dawned cloudy and cool with little or no wind. We had our morning
coffee out in the cockpit and noticed a boat we had not seen the previous evening. It looked
very home-made and exceptionally rough and worn down. The only soul aboard was an
elderly, burly, and sour looking individual, as unkempt and rough as his boat. We waved in
greeting, which he ignored or did not see, and carried on his business of repairing a rusting
stay. He scowled at us from time to time as if to say, “What the hell you looking at any-
way?”
“Miserable old fart,” said Gavin, summing up my feelings as well.
Later in the morning we rowed ashore to the club to inquire about the canal crossing pro-
cedure from some of the officials. We were told that we would be put in line, and that it
could take about a week, and that it would be well-advised to go through with a partner
boat. We would go as two of the four compulsory line handlers. They would let us know
which yacht needed a couple of handlers by contacting us by radio.
Sitting outside the club, we met a member from the previous night, and he came over to
chat.
