Boating pleasures and pains

Somewhere before I know I have mentioned that classic Dutch phrase here "Koop een boot, werk je dood." If you understand that the word 'koop' means 'buy', it's probably not difficult to figure out what the rest of the expression means. Not to put too fine a point on it, the saying goes that if you buy a boat, you're probably going to work yourself to death! This doesn't sound very romantic, does it? Not quite the scenario most people have in mind when they think of life on the water.

I was thinking of this myself only yesterday. For the past few days, I have spent every available moment sanding and painting the paintwork on the Vereeniging. Jodie and her boyfriend have been hard at it as well. It's been a tremendous amount of work and we're only half way through it. For a small barge, there seems to be an unconscionable amount to be done.

The read stripe all round the barge and the red trim on the windows

 Part of the problem is that we didn't manage to do anything other than the hull last year because of the dreadful weather over the summer when we had time to do it, and partly because the Vereeniging has so many different bits that need painting: the foredeck, the steering deck, the engine room roof and sides and the cabin roof and sides, the red trim all around these two, the green panels with their black painted supports, the red stripe all around the barge, and finally the black trim all the way round above the red stripe. To add to that, the berghout which I think is the rubbing rail in English, is made of hard wood and has to be oiled. See, four entire lines already to list all these jobs! And I haven't even mentioned the mast foot, the mast, the teak entrance to the back cabin, the engine room hatch and the foredeck hatch, or then again, the spraying of the tarpauline with waterproofing. That's  a disproportionate amount for the smallest barge in the harbour, don't you think? And what's worse is that it should all be done every year if it is to be well maintained. Yes, Koop een boot, werk je dood. You will if you let yourself.

The mast needs doing regularly too.

There are upsides, though. For example, I get to sit in my little rowing boat and paddle round the barge as I paint. I can also sit in the self same little boat with a cup of coffee and feel the sun on my neck. Wonderful. Meanwhile, I can talk as an equal to the ducks who are currently zooming around followed by their most recent crop of ducklings. I am convinced they are doing training before they go to the duck distribution depot where they will be assigned to one of the millions of ponds, canals, drainage ditches and creeks in the country. Sometimes, on rare occasions, even the swans come and say hello, although I'm slightly nervous of getting too close to these. They can have mean tempers if they think you've got something they want - like a snack. Generally, though, this is one of the simple pleasures that I love and I know not many other people can do, not just whenever they feel like it anyway.

Spuddling in the little boat

We can also do tours round the harbour in our little rowing boat. Seeing all the other barges from a ducks eye view is fascinating. We've been known to do this winter and summer and I well remember doing the rounds with my daughter Mo in, I think, November. We were wrapped up to the eyeballs, that I do recall, and we couldn't find our oars, so we used a broom and a homemade oar made from a stick and a short plank of wood screwed together. Unforgettable.

Mo and I 'rowing' round the harbour with a broom
and a makeshift oar

A Duck's Eye view of the harbour

Another upside is being able to have your own private terrace on the water and not have to pay for the privilege of sitting there. We can sit on our deck till the moon is high in the sky, drinking glasses of cool wine and enjoying the warm summer evenings without anyone telling us time's up or we have to leave to make room for other customers.

So there it is, the pleasures and the pains of owning an old barge. I think that overall, the pleasures far outweigh the pain and for that reason alone, the work will never kill us.