A Deep Dark Hole
Every task completed seems to create two more. At some point, the checklist stops feeling like progress—and starts feeling like the ground giving way beneath your feet.
Last week we made real progress preparing Rosemary for her Alaska trip.
The standing rigging is almost entirely replaced now. Wires and lines have been reconnected. The sails are back on the mast and forestays. There are still a few loose ends—some blocks to change, radar reflectors to install in the shrouds, and the last pieces of the mast electrical system to reconnect—but the rig is no longer an abstract project. It’s there. It’s taking shape again. A bill was paid.
The electrical system is catching up. We replaced the service batteries, installed a new battery monitor, reconnected the fuel level gauges, and added three bilge pumps to satisfy the insurer’s requirements.
The engine, too, is coming back to life. After cleaning the fuel tanks, replacing the injectors, and bleeding the lines, we tracked down a lingering issue: the lifting pump is getting tired, making starts more laborious than they should be. Another item on the list.
The watermaker has been recommissioned. It runs. It almost behaves. There’s a small leak left to fix.
I drove to Auckland on Monday—three hours each way—to get the life raft, life vests, and fire extinguishers recertified. That trip came with a strange kind of reassurance: seeing the life raft deployed, calmly, on land, before ever having to trust it at sea. I brought everything back to Opua on Friday, another six hours of driving.
The big projects are winding down. For the first time, it feels possible to think about something as simple—and as symbolic—as cleaning the boat before moving in.
And yet.