Location: Coomera, Australia
The last days have been spent readying Tayrona for show. We purged the boat again of our old sailing belongings, goods, food, tidbits. All our sunburned clothes, salted footwear, and tattered hats not even worth donating went overboard. The ocean is a tough place for leather, cotton, metal, skin, electronics, zippers, plastics… It feels decidedly good to shed our worldly possessions like lizards doffing cracked skin, cathartic somehow. We didn’t have too much clutter or junk aboard really, but without the little bits of our personalities spilling over into the cabins and salon it feels empty. Maybe not empty so much as awaiting.
Miranda and I did some deep cleaning, fixed this and that, met with brokers and workers. We were at it from sunrise well into the night. That’s not too great of a feat, seeing as the sun sets at five, but after a few days we felt the fatigue of cumulative grind. I was almost too wiped out to have a heavy heart when suddenly it was our last night afloat.
The morning came and I pulled Tayrona around and docked her for the last time. It makes you feel like a docking hero when there’s no current or wind and four line hands are helping bring the boat in. The travel lift hauled Tayrona from the water, drove her by remote control (!!!!) for a few hundred yards, and gently placed her in the work yard next to several other boat friends. These guys at The Boat Works are pros.
Miranda and I too made boat friends in the yard as we worked on peeling off the old blue bootstripes and putting on spanky new silver ones. It was our last big project, a nice mix of geometry and turpentine. We’re having professionals bottom paint and buff the topsides while we’re gone. She’ll look a lot better when we get back!
We worked into the evening on the bootstripes, packed or jettisoned a few last tidbits, and then spent our very last night aboard our fearless Tayrona. Laying in our cozy berth where we had sheltered through so many miles of ocean, we sleeplessly recalling all the glittering memories she has given us, revisiting stories, sorrows and triumphs until our eyes would stay open no longer and we slept without rising to check the anchor.
When morning broke, we emptied Tayrona of our last vestiges and left her in the hands of our capable brokers. It’s not yet goodbye; we’ll see her again in a few days after some touristing along the coast, but we need to let Tay-Tay speak for herself in the upcoming boat show without her obnoxiously proud owners glowing all over her decks. Shake your tail feather, pretty girl!