It was half an hour before the boat was due to be hauled out. The new engine was due to arrive tomorrow. It was all going to be very expensive. And then a woman I had never met before knocked on the coachroof: “I’ve been reading your blog. Your overheating trouble: Have you looked at … Read more
The Aries never had a name. I did try to call my windvane self-steering “Arnold” for a while, but somehow that didn’t stick. Instead, I called the rat that joined me in Santa Marta “Arnold”. It seemed entirely appropriate. Mind you, he never answered to it, and then I electrocuted him anyway – which made … Read more
383 miles. Six Days, No engine. No self-steering. Two calls from the Coastguard: “Do you require assistance?” No. I came to Galway because it wasn’t Killybegs. I had been in Killybegs for a month for what we might call the “Major Works”, and there really isn’t much to the place apart from the boatyard. … Read more
