The clean up has been going better than expected. Even stains that I thought would never be gone have disappeared with a little elbow grease and pressure wash. I finally took down the large, Lexan storm windows that covered the 7-foot salon windows yesterday. They had been in place 7 years, 3 months, and 4 days, buts whose counting.
I also removed the newer 1/10” acrylic panels over the pilot house windows. Getting up this morning, the boat is noticeably cooler. While I never needed the storm windows for storm or wave protection, this boat is designed too well for that, as insulation, they were great, stopping all condensation on the inner windows no matter how much cooking was going on, as well as keeping the boat warmer, allowing us to keep the Wallas diesel heater on minimum pretty much all the time when it was on at all.
As I thought about how the “storm” windows were never needed for their intended purpose, I was reminded of a story Thien (our son) related to me about a talk he had with his mother who had been terrified of the first waves (2 to 3 feet) she had encountered on Dauntless. He told me that in trying to comfort his mother he had cupped his hands together and rolled them back and forth, pointing out to Ti that his hands represented the boat, and we were nestled inside. That rolling of the boat was how the boat protected us from the seas and the boat was like our mother protecting us from the dangerous things in the outside world, just as she had protected him growing up.
Just as our mothers protect us, Dauntless does the same.
And maybe sometimes we get a kick in the ass.
As I was finishing taking pictures of the outside yesterday and most of the inside, since I had promised pictures to one and all, I slipped on the swim platform, which is about two feet from the dock. Into the water I went, cell phone and all. I wasn’t worried about getting crushed by the boat since I had tied her in a way so that she could not move further back (or forward for that matter). TI came out and pulled my cell phone from my pocket and then helped me out.
In the eight and a half years of having Dauntless, I have never fallen in the ocean. Never. Too many times to count, I have ventured out on deck to take a comfort break, holding on for dear life literally.
Once out and clearly uninjured the only damage having been done to my 3-month-old Samsung S21 which is now DOA, Ti spent the rest of the day muttering to herself in Vietnamese as to what a stupid husband she has. No translation was needed. She had told me numerous times this week not to get on or off that boat
So here I am waiting for daylight so I can take pictures again with Ti’s phone, which I am normally not allowed to touch.
Wish me luck.