The alarm wakes us up at 6.30 am. Ugh. I wriggle back down and wait for my cup of tea but when it arrives I am told that I have to get up when I’ve finished as we need to be underway asap. Double ugh!
Immediately I get out of bed I know there is something wrong with my back. Not my normal problem in the thoracic area but lower down in the lumbar region. I probably slept badly and just hope it will ease off. We set off just before 8 am, motoring straight into the wind … and the current. It’s slow going and a good job we allowed plenty of time. (At times, Mike’s anal retentive tendency to be early for everything pays off!) En route, I finish the washing that I started last night.
We leave Fannie Bay and go around Bullocky Point. The town planners around here have a sense of humour and those names are right up there with Yorkeys Knob as far as I am concerned!
Mike tells me to put the fenders and lines on the port side, and as I am carrying a fender across the boat, the boat lurches, I grab onto one of the shrouds and wrench my back. This happens again and my back starts to feel uncomfortable but again I don’t really take much notice as there’s too much to do. Then the port engine splutters, coughs and dies. Shit, what now?
Mike gets it going but it dies immediately. After about 5 starts it stays on for a few minutes then dies again. We make it to the fuel dock and raft up against Tucanon. They refuel first then the hose is brought across their boat and onto ours. Mike is off the boat and I am left to empty the lockers to get the jerry cans out – of course they are at the bottom and everything has to be taken out. Grrrr.
Moe comes on board to help me refuel. Unfortunately the process is its usual messy process in that the froth builds up in the long neck down to the tank and eventually builds up and spurts diesel all over the deck. I am used to this but Moe is quite alarmed at the mess. I just squirt it with washing up liquid and throw hot water over it. While he is returning the nozzle to the fuel tanker, I put the now very heavy jerry cans back into the locker. As this is a drop of about three feet, this is a big mistake and probably the last straw for my back, although I don’t realise this yet.
I put everything back on top of the jerry cans and finish cleaning up. Mike returns and we untie from Tucanon and head out to the lock. As Darwin is so tidal (tidal range is 17 feet) the marinas are protected by locks and we have to go through one of these, manoeuvring with just one engine. As I tie on the fenders to the starboard side, I realise there is something very wrong with my back. I can’t bend over to tie them on and adopt a very unattractive squatting position to do it – and it’s painful.
The lock master decides that as we are having trouble with the engine, she will let Tucanon go through first, then she will open the lock gates for us to go through alone. While Tucanon manoeuvres the lock, we go in circles around the bay. The port engine comes on for a while then dies again. When it is our turn, it is as dead as a dodo so Mike has to get into the lock with just the one engine. Paul hands a long hook down for me to attach ropes from the port bow and stern so that we can be tied against the wall but the wind gets into the lock and as the water level rises, the boat tries to slew all over the place. There I am, bad back, with a fender in one hand and pulling a the rope tighter as we rise up the lock. Not a good idea but necessary and decidedly painful.
Photos: In the lock on the way to the “Duck Pond”
I am relieved when the lock opens and we can enter the marina. Mind you, now the hard work starts, for Mike anyway.
Our berthing spot is just inside but trying to get us in it without the port engine is really difficult and there is quite a bit of wind which is uncooperative. In the end we settle for being blown in sideways by the wind which means that we are side on to the dock instead of stern to. Our bow is sticking out about five feet into the channel and obstructing it but the lock keeper says we will be OK for now as the lock gates won’t be open again until tonight and the larger fishing boats who might be troubled by our obstruction won’t go out until tomorrow morning.
Bev, Moe and Paul arrive to help us tie up into position, and once we are safe, I go and lie down, taking valium and codeine on the way. It’s boiling hot in the boat but thankfully the dock guy turns up pretty soon and hooks up our shore power so we can have the air conditioning on – the temperature is up to 90 degrees and only manages to bring it down to 80 or so over the next few hours. With all the drugs, I can’t believe that I don’t conk out but at least they take the edge off the pain for a while. While I lie in bed, poor Mike has to dismantle the fuel filter. This is two filters, primary and secondary, and a very messy job. After dismantling and cleaning the primary filter he turns the fuel tap back on and a whole load more sludge comes out and clogs the filter again, so he starts the process all over. Eventually he connects it all back up and the engine runs perfectly. It probably happened because we got so low on fuel that all the accumulated dirt in the fuel got squished around and sucked into the engine filter. Having only one tank, I suppose we were lucky that the other engine kept going!
There is a prizegiving event in the evening but I am unable to walk to the end of the pontoon, let alone up the the Yacht Club so I stay home alone while Mike attends.
When he gets back, I take some more tablets and head for bed. Getting into bed is hard as it’s five foot up with just two steps. Getting down is harder. I hope I don’t have to face that until the morning!
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