On Sunday Jan went back to Cologne. Today is Friday. From Makkum to Enkhuizen it’s a comfortable twenty-two miles across the IJsselmeer. With the right wind, four or five hours of easy sailing, really. The story behind it can run otherwise, though. The broken toggle joining the baby stay to the mast fitting is the problem I need a solution for. I need a rigger to replace the toggle and, above all, to inspect the rig. My trust in the rig – but more than that, my trust in my own judgement, after inspecting the rig myself in Brodersby – has drained away.
Monday morning, the first job is to jury-rig a baby stay. With two shackles – one at the deck fitting, one at the mast fitting – it ought to be possible to set up a line as a baby stay. Led to a winch, I can tension it and give the mast the stability it needs.
Then I work through the list of riggers recommended to me hereabouts. M. de Groot in Stavoren – not far off – could replace the toggle today if I’m there by four at the latest. So, off we go. Cast off, on to Stavoren. There, again through a lock and into the harbour. At three I’m in the harbour office, borrowing a bicycle. At twenty past, baby stay in hand, I’m at M. de Groot’s, meeting Auke, whom I’d spoken to on the phone. A warm welcome. I follow him into their “workshop”, an impressive great hall. At a quarter to four I’m back at the bicycle with the toggle replaced. So far, splendid. Only, for a rig inspection they’ve nothing free for another week and a half. Back at the boat, the pleasure of the quick fix mingles with a general unease. A week and a half’s wait, then the inspection. What if I need a new rig? That’s surely another two or three weeks. I’ll have to rethink. England isn’t going to happen. And why does it have to be England, anyway? Why not just to some lovely spot, and put my feet up for a fortnight – read, run, swim, do nothing? For weeks I’ve been in project mode. One thing after another. All too much? Don’t I just want a little peace? I go for a swim first, at the indoor pool. I have it to myself. Head under the water, the body stretched out, gliding through it. A deep breath. Swimming hasn’t done me this much good in a long time. The one decision this evening: put everything back by a day. Tomorrow, just do nothing for once.
On Tuesday, then, not much happens either, beyond my spending almost the whole day simply reading Sven Beckert’s magnificent Capitalism: A Global History.
On Wednesday it happens that Tuned Riggs & Ropes in Enkhuizen have time in the afternoon for a rig check. The wind is blowing quite fresh. Cast off, tie up at the lock’s waiting pontoon, cast off, tie up in the lock, cast off, on to Enkhuizen, tie up at the lock’s waiting pontoon, cast off, tie up in the lock, cast off, tie up at Tuned Riggs & Ropes. Only twelve miles, and yet it feels like a long day by the time I reach the rigger at one. Around three they can do the rig check. The verdict: “Looks all fine.” Great is my joy that it’s so. Greater still the relief that my own judgement at the rig check in May was not mistaken.
After a longer chat with Vester, the rigger, it’s back once more through the lock into the marina at Enkhuizen. I’ll be here the next few days. Indifferent weather, above all with too much wind for me to sail this single-handed. Way out of my comfort zone. And there it is – the pause, the doing nothing, reading, running, cooking, sleeping. And in the lovely little town of Enkhuizen, no less. Clarity about how and where, exactly, things go on from here will find itself over the coming days.
