Smoke on the Water

"Aus! Aus!" shouts Manuel as he's scrambling out from the engine room and through the narrow kitchen towards me. I don't need to call on my tenuous grasp of German to know we're in trouble. I turn and run.

The engine room is a cave in the very centre of the boat, just barely larger than the Renault diesel that it's home to. It's just big enough for someone to squeeze in for the necessary tinkering and maintenance. For much of yesterday and this morning, Jean-Pierre has been squirrelled away in there. I'm not sure what he's been doing in there, but he was pleased to get the thing running, then left it chugging whilst he, Thomas and Roland made a trip into town.

Some half an hour after they'd left, Manuel noticed a thin veil of smoke in the saloon. We went down toward the belly of the beast to have a look. It was at this point, that shouting and scrambling became necessary. Once again, I'm making a dash for the top deck, ready to dive into the water followed by a explosion of fire and shrapnel. This dash is made worse given the consciousness that Manuel and David are immediately behind me, relying on the same narrow escape route. As I get into the cockpit, I turn to look for my friends. They're not following. It seems I've jumped the gun a little, again. Manuel went for the engine switch, after which we quickly decided to let the smoke clear from positions a little way away from the most explosive parts of the boat.

That potential explosion of earlier was exciting, but my high point comes when a volunteer is needed to climb the mast to replace the main sheet - the rope that hoists the main sail from the top of the mast. I very much enjoy climbing up things, given the belief that I am safe. In the harbour, the rocking of the boat is very gentle, but is somewhat amplified by the forty or fifty foot pole I'm atop of. Nonetheless, my fear isn't of heights, so much as it is of falling to my death, so this is pretty cool.

Thomas is still keen to get underway today, and despite Manuel's reports of smoke and sparks, Jean-Pierre thinks the engine should be OK now.

The final task is twelve days of food and at least fifteen days of water for six hungry boys. It's a big task. The water is thirty or so five-litre bottles. Their transport down the pier to the boat requires a classic Strong Man style event - the Farmer's Walk. The bottles have plastic carrying loops, so I start with two bottles in each hand - one on my fingers, one on my thumb. After a couple of trips, the big Austrian joins me. He goes straight for a six bottle carry. Obviously, I have to match the impressive feat. It takes all my physical strength, and the spirit of the six-time champion, Mariusz "The Dominator" Pudzianowski to fend of the pain of the loops cutting into my fingers.

Photo: realdutchpower.nl, "The Dominator"

By Ten o'clock, we've successfully and happily completed our first leg, down to Barbate. This will be the last stop before Gran Canaria.