Well after months of preparations and constant weather report checks, we get the go ahead from The Boss.  We’re moving her Easter weekend, April 2006.  Four months since we exchanged contracts and purchased Fenrir, we’re going to bring her home. (See the blog about preparing her about the challenges in that time.)

 

Skips and Scotty get the ferry, bringing over the final kit and equipment for the journey.  I fly out and join them after work.  We pick up The Boss and First Mate and after introducing them to the team get stuck into dinner, some wine and a good nights sleep, for tomorrow is going to be a very big day...

 

On arrival, The Boss sets us to work preparing things that we hadn’t even thought of.  Skips and I are hastily cutting wood to make storm shutters for the windows whilst Scotty is teaching The Boss and First Mate all about the Brons.  

 

 

 

I’m walking round checking the boat and securing down items in the rooms.  On checking the shower, I see water coming up the drain.  How could we have missed this before?  As we’re about to brave the North Sea, I think it’s important to check with the Boss if this is okay.  Clearly it’s not as The Boss gets to work (well we are just about to cross the North Sea).    First Mate is straight into the bilges and plugging off the outlet from this side fixing the problem in a jiffy. (He’s so good, I want one of those!!)

 

The day did not progress smoothly as Scotty injures himself quite badly.  Skips looks on in horror as Scotty’s knee was damaged falling down the stairs.  Was this an omen telling us that things were to go from bad to worse?

 

 

We moor up for the night in a lovely marina and plan an evening out.  The boss’ only request was for “Chips and Beer”.  Scotty, whose knee appeared to be getting worse, was not able to make it ashore.  He waved us off and settled in for the night with a pot noodle and painkillers.

 

As we exit the gated marina, we walk into the local town for the said chips and beer.  We stumble across a pizzeria.  No-one (including staff) was in the building.  We called out and asked a lonely member of staff if they were open.  On his affirmative, we assumed the position and propped up the bar for the remainder of the night. While we bonded over several varieties of beer and pizza (no chips!!) several other people came in enquiring if the cafe was open.  An hour later, we turn around and the cafe is heaving.  I’m sure it was down to our presence!!

  

We finally leave and return to the gated marina.  Umm thats right gated.  How are we going to get back in??  Scotty’s in bed wounded and we’re facing a night outside in April.  Not a problem for the boss...  He spies a walkway about 10 ft below into the marina.  We just have to crawl through the trees and drop someone down.  Some one who’s lighter than the average male, you know a girl... That’ll be me then.  Skips starts to verbalise his concerns and before he can say wait, I’m swiftly dropped and have the gate open for them.  

 

The following morning, we settle our bill and set off down stream.  Our goal is to make it to the final lock.  That is the lock out to the North Sea.  The day goes with out a hitch but it becomes apparent that Scotty’s injury is getting worse.  As a team we discuss options and it is decided that for safety Scotty should get the ferry home.  Looking back, that was the wisest decision we made...