Masts? What Masts?

Today dawned bright and clear as the day of Odyssey’s conversion from sail to power. I arrived at the dock to find Rick (the rigger) and Cap’n Lyle (the dockmaster) ready and waiting to move the boat round the corner to where a rather large crane was waiting to rip the rig off. Lyle asked if I wanted to drive but I declined, preferring to leave it in his capable hands.

I’m beginning to wonder if they’re all talking about me behind my back, saying I can’t drive this thing around the dock so how on earth will I ever get it back to England? Truth is I haven’t ever handled a boat this big in confined spaces like the marina but they have years of experience, so I’d rather leave it to the experts. Any good manager knows the art of delegating to the person with the appropriate skill, or so I keep telling myself!

Anyway, they whipped the masts off in a trice, along with most of the mizzen step which had rotted away unseen for years. All that remains now is a pile of powdered aluminium and rust, plus a couple of sorry-looking bolts with nothing to bolt into. Never mind, I’m sure we can fix it somehow.

Once the masts were off Odyssey looked very odd indeed, rather like a badly-designed motor boat. Cap’n Lyle took the helm again and motored her deftly into the hauling slip while I lounged around on deck nonchalently, pretending to look as though I knew what I was doing.

My new motor boat

Once tied up in the dock there was nothing to do as the crane was out of service till tomorrow, so they all wandered off leaving me to enjoy the last sensations of being afloat before we come out of the water in the morning. The novelty of this soon wore off so I hit the beach to top up my tan.

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