Mylady is being loved and care for to no limits. Her owner scraped and scraped her bottom till she was clean and almost naked. Then he dressed her with layer upon layer of different qualities and colors of paint. She got a new coat on her hem above the waterline. If you listen good, you can hear her purr. Up and down he runs through her top shaking up the rigging and replacing with new. That the mast steps are showing signs of wear and tear, we shall not worry about now. Even her steering he did not forget. Never in thirty years, but this time for sure. Dug up from the deep dark, hidden below the pile of fenders and extra lines in the aft storage, came the steering rods and the what-have-you-nots. And this all started because the steering pedestal in the cockpit kept on naging about the salt corrosion creeping between it's base-rings. Skipper said solemnly, a bad foundation is no good, removed the steeringwheel, and forced the poor steering colom with brute force and seaman's vocabularly off its sealant-glued-fixture-base in the centre cockpit. Some time passed. At the moment he ever so gently sands and paints and carries that same heavyweight pededstal like a baby up and down the many steps of the very high and narrow ladder, refitting it proudly on its important place.
Now that our hard earned freedom chips have been used up in a good way on good MYLADY, we are going to take a break for a few days to experience some more of New Zealand. On our return, we splash asap, go for a test sail and then leave for British Columbia.
