I wake every morning at 6:30 or 7:00 and roll out of my small twin bed to wash my face and begin the day.  It is the only time when the cool air of Cartagena is refreshing instead oppressive with a heavy heat.  Georiga stands patiently waiting for her breakfast while I dress for her morning walk that is soon to come.  Walking downstairs out of my apartment and through the shared living space we are quiet so we don’t wake the employee sleeping in a hammock in the hallway. 

Outside the city is springing to life.  The street is alive with music already and the hundreds of coffee vendors who walk the streets with thermoses filled with thick sweet coffee.  I wait knowing that my morning routine has ensured me a large cup of coffee that will be poured and waiting for me as soon as I round the next corner.  My vendor sees me, smiles, and pours my coffee and double cups it so that I can walk with it without burning my fingers.

Walking through the streets of Getsemani, my barrio in Cartagena, I am greeted by smiles, holas, and buenos dias from the many locals who now know me as the papa of Georgia, the perra perdida.  Having dropped the dog off at my room I knock on Greg’s door, the captain of Coconut who is also undergoing a refit with me at Club Nautico.  On the 15 minute walk we take on breakfast in the form of fresh fruit, fruit juice, and various fried items that can’t possibly be good for us.  Nevertheless, they combine to make a wonderful breakfast.

The past week has been a flurry of activity.  The engine has been machined including boring the new cylinder liners, machining the crankshaft, and seating the new valves and guides.  The injectors and injector pump have been rebuilt and are working perfectly.  And the beauty of it is that I got to watch all this as it was being done.  This week, El Profe, also known as my mechanic, Elvis, will be reassembling my engine and preparing it for reinstall next week.  Back on the boat the last few days work has made Jargo unlivable.  El Maiestro, a.k.a. Tuti, has cut out my cabin sole to make a hole large enough to remove the fuel tank.  This involved cutting the tank into three manageable pieces all small enough to go through the hatch that leads from the cockpit into the cabin. 

I always fear taking on projects that might not be necessary.  I have to extra budget for repairs, but my suspicions were confirmed on both the engine rebuild and now the fuel tank.  As we removed the last section of the fuel tank we knocked of a significant amount of corrosion.  As we did I found two spots where I could see right through m tank.  Nothing but a significant build up of rust had been holding my diesel fuel in place.  The tank project is a major disaster diverted.

Today, my tank fabricator is here building a template for the new fiberglass tank we’ll be installing.  Tuti is here converting some dead space into new cabinetry, and my friend Creison is grinding off the old powder coat from the anchor windlass and prepping it for paint.  If you are refitting a boat, get her floating and get to Cartagena.  The labor is skilled, inexpensive, and materials are cheap.  I am afraid to keep imagining what could be done with time and money.  Cartagena.

Lee Winters
Skype: lee_winters

www.SailingForSOS.com