The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

Cleaning brass has been one of my greatest pleasures. What was dull, dirty and neglected is suddenly transformed into something shining, brilliant and cared for.  What other activity can display such obvious progress so quickly? My understanding of the benefit of brass cleaning started at school when we would huddle in the boot room cleaning the brass  fittings of our cadet corps belts and gaiters.

We used Brasso. It was excellent.

Japan does not use brass. Indeed has never used brass it would appear.  I do not know why not, but there it is. Therefore it is impossible to find brass cleaner of the likes of Brasso in Okinawa. I finally track down a product that is used for polishing trumpets and other, er, brass instruments. It is hopeless.

My boat is infested with brass, all of which is much tarnished. Let’s look at the lamps. The boat has two archaic paraffin lamps which are clearly catering to the romantic. Notwithstanding I can imagine the pleasure of being at anchor on some obscure Japanese island reading to the light of paraffin lamps.

One of the mantles is busted

So I try to clean up the lamps. My big breakthrough comes with the use of very fine wire wool.

I yearn tragically for Brasso

Not wonderful but my lamps are looking much better. Alladin?

A very successful day as the boat passed inspection by the Okinawan Harbor authorities. What?!

I think they are basically checking that you have life jackets, a fire extinguisher, a flare and of course a whistle. Any way another hurdle bounded over with the help of Tabata san,

I also have success with the skag. This is a piece of metal that essentially protects the propeller. My skag is very heavily corroded and I worry that it will be a pain to remove, However the retaining bolts loosen easily and a bit of hammering and levering and the skag starts to move.

You do not mess with skag.

I continue to clean in every corner and to treat all the totally dried out woodwork. The weather is beautiful and I thoroughly enjoy myself.

I will find a metal shop that specializes in skag,

So I make a couple of poor IPhone videos more as an archival record than anything else.

I take some time to indulge in birds.

Little ringed Plover philosophizes

Intermeditate egret runs from the cops

Common Sandpiper. Dangerous usage. I mean common is not too cool these days

Grey Wagtail – Winter visitor

Cold Chinese Bulbul

Cosy is not a word that you would normally associate with Okinawa, it being very hot most of the time. This week however has been cold, I mean like a staggering 10 degrees. This has brought out a great enjoyment of living in my new crib-it is cosy.

Moving was hellish. So many boxes, where to put everything, hauling it all up to the 3rd floor, getting rid of empty boxes. I should have employed someone but I am so much enamored of my ‘I haven’t got any money’ frame of mind that it was not possible.

So much to do

The easiest thing to do is to unroll carpets

Anyway after a couple of weeks I am now pretty much installed. I love my new crib. It is just the right size – small but perfectly formed.

From the balcony. That is the sea behind the trees.

Where I live

700 mbps

I love James’ stuff

Where I sleep.

The washing machine works, the shower is hot and the water pressure is intense. All in all a wonderful place to live.

Contortion is very good for the body. To reach the furthest crannies of Kanusha to clean off the the filth and corruption, I have to lie on my back and extend my arms in a truly yogic way.  However enlightenment follows, as there is no better way to learn about  a boat, or anything really, than washing them all over.

Up front

I also start to sand and treat the woodwork.

My sander. A very good tool.

I find the original Owner’s Manual.

Much wisdom

Wakarimasihta

I sand for hours and apply wood treater stuff. The wood being very, very dry soaks it up in a very pleasing way, A bit like feeding a hungry child.

My workshop

Petit a petit l’oiseau fait son nid.

Four coats of wood stuff. More to come.

I start the first tentative steps towards the restoration of Kanusha.

She is filthy.

Mold and grime everywhere.

Woodwork dried by years of 30 degree heat

Moth and rust

Did you clean behind your ears?

All the woodwork is white from 7 years of blazing sun.

My brother Ian’s school number was 32. I feel this is a good augury.

Filth

A good project.

This is where Kanusha lives and thus where I spend most of my time. It is a great place. That said, all marinas have a certain sadness about them brought on by the large number of unused boats who have been neglected by their owners and are gently decaying. “What did I do wrong?” they must think. It reminds me of Black Beauty.

Eyes left

Check out big lifts in background.

Eyes right. The big building in the background is a mega San A shopping mall.

Anyway it is perfectly suited for boat restoration. There are huge lifts for when I have to work on her bottom. Indeed there are elevated cradles on which you can place the boat for long term work. This will be very useful as I will have to apply many coats of anti fouling paint. I also foresee problems with the center plate that appears to be heavily corroded and will probably need replacing. There is electricity and water but more than anything there is Tabata san.

Tabata san is my new hero. He is the harbormaster and a finer a guy you could not meet. He is a fixer. His phone is constantly ringing, he is running 25 different projects at the same time. He is undaunted. I mention my anxiety about shipping the boat from Miyako to Okinawa. He phones a friend. It is all fixed. I anguish about paperwork, inspections and registrations. He fixes all that. I look at my engine with grave doubt.

Would you trust this?

He says, “Don’t worry Neil san, we can lift it out and overhaul, if it is dead I will find you a good second hand GM1.” I tell you, this is all like grease on the boil of my worry.

Yay! Tabata san

A short walk from the Marina is a shopping mall.

You can get anything you want in the San A .

A big bag of hot deep fried fish for $2. I have eaten half of them.

Just next to the huge supermarket is a shop endearingly called a coffee farm. It is a find. They sell couscous, cardamon, fine wines and incredible choice of coffee. The staff are joyful. Japan how much do I love you?

Alladin’s cave

So, dear reader, the nature of this blog is about to change. The large part of the content will now be devoted to a restoration project on a 1992 Norfolk Gypsy, which Naoko named Kanusha because it does not mean anything.

Some will remember that in July 2016, I visited the beautiful island of Miyako to look at a Norfolk Gypsy that had miraculously found its way there from the dreary, er to some, coast of Norfolk.

To have any chance of restoring her from her sad state, a few factors were imperative; permanent residence status in Japan – check; lots of time –check; I have retired.

However there are many ditches, slaps and stiles between Miyako and Okinawa. I mean, find someone to load her and all her designer luggage onto a truck in Miyako, organize ferry to Naha, then truck up to Ginowan Marina. In my diminished state, burnt out from 40 years on the treadmill, this is a daunting prospect.

Well, on the 30^th of December 2017, she arrives at Ginowan Marina on the back of a truck. This appears miraculous. It must have something to do with the proximity date-wise to the birth of sweet baby Jesus.

It’s a bit like getting married.

Luckily she fits onto the trailer. There is much adjustment to get her perfectly placed and leveled. I sort of circle as the harbormaster, of whom more later, and the truck driver give a performance of great skill and delicacy.

Tight fit.

There is a moment of drama as the centre plate is a bit lowered and so the boat cannot sit on the trailer. The weight of the boat will certainly push the plate up but if taken askance it could also bend, snap or generally deform the center plate.

Protruding center plate.

I shout, “ Go, go!” The crane lowers and the center plate rises into its slot.

We chock, wedge, jack and there she is extant in Ginowan. Wow!

Chapter One

So, since my last posting much has changed. I have left my beautiful house by the sea and have moved to my new crib. I have sold or got rid off the majority of my possessions. I no longer have a job with concomitant salary and status. I am now just another bum. But worse than all of that I have had no Internet access.

One thing that is slow in Japan, and indeed in other countries as far as I remember is the installation of a household Internet connection. It takes over a month here. This has meant no blog entries during one of the most tumultuous and exciting periods of my life. It has also meant no email except from my phone. I do not like using my phone for mail. My fingers are stubby, arthritic, swollen and do not respond well to the lightning fast messages from my brain. They are so huge that each time I try to hit a letter on the diminutive keyboard, I usually hit three. This then entails much deleting, which in turn, generates more errors.

These fingers were made for thinning turnips.

Today everything changed as the men from AU, my internet provider arrived. AU is a big Japanese telecom firm whose name sounds too much like the classic Scottish greeting of “Hey you!” as in “Hey you Jimmy, youse looking at me or chewing a brick? Either way youse gonna lose yer teeth!”  If you phone a delicate Japanese friend normally their answering machine message starts with a very loud “AU”, I still take 2 steps backward.

Anyway I expected them to plug a modem into the wall and go away. Not so, first a  cherry picker truck comes and  3 guys install a cable.

Getting my money’s worth

Then cable is pulled along the corridor outside my front door.

Vince Cable

The action moves inside.

Such fun

So the incredible fiber opens the world to me. The speed is amazing.

This  is actually a slow moment. Normally it is above 700 mbps. Worth waiting for.

I am back in business, however I have a moment of regret on losing the blissful anonymity that no internet brings.

I always remember the terrible shock when I spied hundreds of men, squadrons of concrete trucks, cohorts of diggers, starting work on the LHC. Having spent some 10 years involved in the negotiations on funding plans and political support, all of which is very abstract, it was sobering to see that it was actually happening.  We were like committed.

The same is true of my boat project.

I get up very early on Monday and race over to Chinen san’s yard. We are going to truck my trailer down to the Ginowan Marina.

I love my trailer

I get to ride in the truck, which makes me very excited.

We unload in Ginowan.

So the trailer is in place. All I need now is a boat. Maybe I should start calling her Kanusha because that is her name.

I will be spending a lot of time here.

Kanusha is on her way. She is a bit like an arranged marriage wife. I do not know her yet we are committed to spending the rest of our lives together. I agonize that the uprights on the trailer are too narrow for her ample girth.  Well, let’s ask Doris.

Anyway, I am committed.