Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
We left the following day. Both Gavin and I were very homesick and felt utterly alien in
this remote little bay with these trashy townsfolk. I hasten to say that on our travels around
Australia, we of course met some wonderful people and did not form an opinion of this
great country from the few yobos we met at Tin Can Bay.
The final curtain came down on our cruise a few miles from the Burnett River head when
a strong gust of wind ripped the belly out of the mainsail. We had to jury rig the shredded
sail, and our windward performance dropped so much we were almost tempted to call the
coast guard for the second time that week to tow us in. Together with the motor, the Genoa,
and parts of the main we were able to limp into the little harbor. I threw the sail away; the
stitching had rotted out. I saved all the cringles and the headboard and began looking for
some sort of replacement mainsail.
It was at this time that I met the solo sailor, Carl, from the east coast of America. He had
owned a successful bar and restaurant and had opted to sell out, buy a boat, and sail around
the world. It so happened that he knew of a boat that had a huge lateen sail which had never
been used. Somebody on the crew of this boat had dropped a cigarette down the sail locker
and had burnt a couple of holes through this brand new sail. I would have keel hauled the
bastard had it happened on my boat. I believe I paid about fifty dollars for this gaff sail and
had to do some major alterations on its head to convert it into a sloop mainsail.
My new friend Carl came to my rescue again. He had a large industrial Singer sewing ma-
chine and had made a couple of his sails on his old wooden gaff rigged ketch. He directed
me as to how to go about the conversion and left me to it. I spent two days in a grassy park
cutting the new luff and stitching a strong hem into it. I then spent another three days on
the cockpit floor, looking like a shoemaker's elf, sitting cross-legged with hammer, needle,
and thread, needle palm, punch and wax and with the old reefing cringles and headboard of
my old main. I completely remade new reefing cringles and reefing ties with triple layers
of stitching along the reinforced panels. I was burnt to a crisp; my knees and back were
aching for days after, but I ended up with a great, strong, new mainsail that served me and
Déjà vu well until the day I sold her, almost fifteen years later.
Years before, when I was a lad of about seven or eight, I was rolling around on the lounge
floor of our old house when I felt a very sharp pain on the right side of my knee. I looked
down and managed to see that I had found the sewing needle that my mother had dropped
and had searched in vain for. The needle broke off at the skin surface, and I was never able
to remove it; it was too deeply embedded in my knee bone. It never bothered me until I
crossed my legs for any length of time, that afternoon it really hurt me, and I could hardly
walk for several hours.
