On Saturday I picked Kathrin up by car at Kiel station. The original plan was that we’d set off together: sail to Kiel, through the Kiel Canal, then out onto the North Sea together and see how far the weather would take us. Days ago I’d told her it wouldn’t work out, time-wise. The work on the boat is taking longer; we can leave on Wednesday at the earliest. (It turned out to be Friday.)
She came anyway. And I’m grateful to her for coming, even though what mostly awaited her was work on the boat.
For one thing, she pulled me out of my tunnel. I hadn’t realised, before, how consumed by the work I'd become. We’ve known each other for thirty years – long enough that a look is sometimes all it takes. More than once these past days that was exactly enough: a look that said, Christian, ease off. Take a break. Have a nap or go for a run. But ease off.
For another, her help with the work on the boat is wonderful. There are the things she simply does – mending the Life-Sling bag with pliers and a sail-repair kit, say. Things that vanish from the to-do list without my having done anything. And then there are the things that are all but impossible alone – rerunning the mainsail’s reefing lines through the boom, or fitting the new guard rail.
We’re not only working, thankfully. There’s the odd stroll through the old town of Schleswig (it looks the way you’d know such places from the Danish archipelago), and down at the harbour we have the – quote Kathrin – best matjes sandwiches. One evening we have dinner with Michael and his wife Dörte at Tonne 98. Labskaus with rollmops.
Good days for me. And I think Kathrin, too, enjoys the time up here in Angeln, even though we don’t set off to go sailing until tomorrow. As far as Kiel, as far as Brunsbüttel, the two of us. After that, I’m on my own again for a while.
