I’ve written previously of my night excursions to check the anchor and seek out the source of mysterious night noises. I don’t know what makes me such a huge worry wart on the boat, by nature I’m quite confident, but I think that when we put to sea to live on KAT for the winter a new sense of self preservation kicked in which resulted in me having to know the cause of every squeak and movement KAT produced. by and large I have gotten over that now, mainly due to my confidence in Captain Chris who I know would never put me or the boat in danger.
Unfortunately when the Captain disappeared, so did my new found confidence. Chris was offered a couple of days work and due to the fact that he needs to keep me in the style to which I am accustomed, we thought it was a good idea if he went. He explained that he’d only be gone a few days, I was safely anchored and I’d have the dinghy to go ashore if I wanted. When he saw the sheer terror on my face at the prospect of being left alone on the boat he offered to go to a marina instead; but marinas are expensive and I really need to get over myself, so I bravely declined the offer of a nice safe marina berth.
So here I am, Master (or should that be mistress) of the S.V. Kat. To allay my impending nerves I set about a cleaning frenzy that would not be believed, every inch of the boat now gleams. I then took a trip to town, bought myself a book and spent the afternoon chilling out and feeling pretty damn pleased with myself for how well I was coping with my new responsibilities!
That was until night fell. As I crawled into bed, the wind rose and KAT started to creak and groan and surge and moan. At first I was determined, after all what was there to be afraid of; these noises are normal, we haven’t moved in days why should we drag anchor now just because Chris isn’t here, just because it’s windy doesn’t mean we’ll drag. But the noises got too much for me and eventually I got up to have just one little look at the anchor and our position. Ten anchor checks later, I decided that there was only one thing to do. I gathered my sleeping bag, put on my thermals and my beanie, grabbed a thermos full of coffee and a packet of Tim Tams and set up camp on the bow. So here I am in my anchor watch camp, brave little me, happy to report that we haven’t moved in the past eight hours. My friend Rosa arrives for a visit tomorrow; maybe if I’m lucky she’ll offer to watch the anchor for me while I pop below and refill the thermos……