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| Day 103 |
18 July 2000 |
| Aru Sea |
| "Happy Campers" |
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This morning for breakfast we have toast, scrambled eggs and
coffee. Coffee? How can we afford such a luxury as coffee when
we are so short of gas? The answer is that we have reverted to
old technology. We have collected some mangrove branches, taken
the gas elements out of the fire-box on deck and stoked it up
the way it was designed to be used, 17th century style.
So I am sipping wood-fired coffee as we cross the bar on our way
out of the Tipuka River at seven this morning. Perhaps it's the
fire, perhaps it's just that I haven't had coffee for a while,
but this coffee is utterly delicious. I'm sure that the simpler
life gets the more enjoyable luxuries become.
The fire-box works so well that Jane wants to use it to cook
lunch as well. She asks me to light it. I have a bucket of water
standing by in case of a mishap. I would wet the deck down
around the box, but Duyfken is dipping her hawse pipes under
water occasionally as she pitches, so the deck is wet anyway.
This must be safer than gas, even on a wooden ship. We have
cleared away the grating in the middle of the forecastle to let
the smoke out. If I could just get the damp newspaper to catch
there might actually be some smoke.
It takes me a few attempts but eventually I am rewarded by a
small flame and choking clouds of smoke. I try to recall, but I
don't think I have ever lit a fire on a ship before. As I sit
under the forecastle tending the fire and giving an occasional
stir to the big pot of pumpkin soup propped over it, feeling
more like a swaggie than a sailor, I can't help thinking how
agreeably simple this is. Over the centuries we have expended a
lot of time and effort inventing ways to make our lives more
complicated, with our pressure cylinders that we can't fill
overseas, and our solenoid valves that cut out when the voltage
drops too low. What's wrong with this?
The novelty still hasn't worn off by the evening. John scoops
the Baden Powell award for getting the fire going first time,
despite the spray, and Jane cooks up a big pot of pasta. We sit
around on deck after the meal, watching the moon rise and
sipping more coffee. Too much coffee. The crew is wired. The
jokes get sillier and sillier, but the smoke coming from the
forecastle grating gives the ship a homely feel, not to mention
making the lot of us smell like a bunch of happy campers, and
nobody seems to want to go to bed.
The gentle easterly wind that keeps Duyfken heading south under
full sail makes the coffee taste even better.
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Peter Manthorpe
Master
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