It’s been like hospital visiting, this winter. Major abdominal surgery, complications, expert consultants called in, conferences about treatment plans, unfamiliar parts exposed, stiff upper lips necessary all round. Not anyone in the family, you understand: just the boat.
Wild Song owed us nothing, after her 9,000-mile journey to Cape Horn and back, followed by a quick flip to Ireland, an abortive assault on fogbound Brittany and a journey up-Channel for a winter’s work. But we owed her plenty, even after the posh new set of sails. She deserved a proper re-rig, new electrics and instrument repeaters that actually work instead of waving their little pointers hysterically before slumping back to zero. The engine needed thought, and there’s nothing like a good scrapearound in the bilge to see what’s going on.…
