Back to picknicks

These pictures of us leaving our first port of call give me some pride as they illustrate the exact spot i pointed out to one of the onlooking granny's when she requested to know exactly where did we think we might land! Yes it was the place in the photo in the pilot book that was on the kitchen table a week ago. The pontoons hammer head at Tananger yacht marina. That at least seem to prove i had some idea that i new what i was doing, but do we ever know what we are doing? I think really we like to pretend we do at least but we all know its never quite as planned.

Our next leg after a days rest was up the coast 3 hrs to stavenger, flat calm barely windy enough to bother with sails. With a plan (hatched by the skipper 6am the day before with frantic web searches and correspondence) to source all the materials and parts to fix mast braket and chart plotter and visit the oil and gas industry museum at stavanger. We arrived after a lovely eventless flat calm motor up the coast (taking time to try a spot of fishing) in good time for a picknick lunch outside the oil museum.
Shopping for soldering iron resistors and led lights ensued and then a trip to the museum. The museum weirded me out, it started with a film about a little boy (called Thomas) whos dad worked on oil rigs in the 70's and for the rest of his life and the trauma of the absent farther (in constant peril) son relationship, whos dad wanted to give him his fancy car before he died,,,,,,!!!! i cried most of the way through it….. (the story was surprisingly and then not so surprisingly similar) cathartic i suppose and the curator basically knocked me for six, they won that one, the empathy to culture presented in the museum bold me over.