Journal

Short notes from the in-between spaces

This is where the material goes that does not always fit inside a log entry: thoughts on body, pace, waiting, calm, stagnation, and the small things that still matter quite a lot.

Interior on board in soft evening light

A small technical setback

Things have been quiet on the website and development side for a while. Not because the project has stopped, but because I got a brutal reminder of how important backups actually are.

So... not been much activity on the development side lately, and the website has not been updated the way I had planned. There are reasons for that.

For the first time in my life, I have experienced a proper hard drive failure. Of course, at the worst possible time. In addition to several years of files, photos, notes, and project material, there was also quite a lot of finished code on that drive that had not yet been pushed to GitHub.

The most frustrating part is probably that I had come quite far with a solution that would make it possible to update the website through a browser, phone, or other platforms, without editing the code directly the way I do now. It was meant to make the whole project easier to maintain along the way, especially once I am more on the move.

Then one day I came back to the PC, and everything was just black. That caused a small mental hard stop, to put it mildly.

Note to self: back things up more often than every third year. Yes, I know I am stubborn, but I do not use cloud storage. Ever.

There is still some hope. I am getting the right equipment to try to recover the contents of the drive, but I want to be completely sure I do it properly before I start. Before I put in a new drive and boot the PC again, I also need to figure out why this happened. Was it the drive itself? The motherboard? Heat? Power? Or something else?

Either way, the project continues. It just took a slightly more dramatic technical detour than planned.

More updates will come soon.

Treadmill running

Cold, windy, wet, and even a bit of sleet. So today became an indoor run.

I have put together a new training plan that I want to try to follow. After a number of short outings, it feels like time to start bringing some distance back in, so now the plan is to add 1 kilometre to each run until the Achilles tells me clearly that enough is enough. Then I start the same process again after a short pause. So: day 1 run, day 2 calf raises, day 3 rest, day 4 run, day 5 calf raises, day 6 rest, and so on. That works out as an increase of 2 kilometres a week.

A visit from Marthine's previous owner

A very nice visit today.

The previous owner and builder of Marthine stopped by. I was handed useful papers and documentation, and also got a thorough walk-through of the pipe and wiring systems on board, which are fairly extensive. That was genuinely useful, and it was good to meet the person who has been so closely connected to the boat for so many years.

There are some good days too :)

Relaxing on deck and small outings nearby.

With a walk in the woods along the shoreline and coffee on deck, life is not all that bad after all.

To the depths of hell

Far down, and dark as well . . .

Dirty jobs that have to be done

I put it off for a while, but now it simply had to be done.

Oil and diesel from the old engine that there had been an attempt to save, mixed with grey water and salt water from the leak in the seawater pump. There is not much to say about it other than that it had to be done :)

It does not look like progress, but it is

Some days everything happens in the same two square metres, and that is exactly what is needed.

It is easy to think progress has to look like speed. Right now it does not. Right now it looks more like lists, tools, interrupted small jobs, and another trip down into the engine room.

It is not especially dramatic, but it is very real. And on good days it gives me more calm than impatience.

A tidy table helps more than expected

The saloon has started becoming a small breathing space, and that changes more than expected.

When the boat is project, workshop, and home at the same time, one place has to stop shouting about what is unfinished.

That is not luxury. It is simply a little peace of mind. And that turns out to be surprisingly useful when the rest of the boat keeps trying to hand you new jobs.

The Achilles still has a voice in the project meetings

Running now is at least as much about trust as it is about form.

The Achilles is not a finished chapter. It has simply become more familiar. I know better where the limits are, and sometimes I also know when I should pretend I understood that a little earlier.

That makes the project calmer. Patience is no longer the reserve plan. It is the method itself.

The transition is still the best part

One of the finest things about the whole project is still the shift itself between sea and land.

It is in the moment when the boat is left behind and the trail takes over that the whole project feels most right.

Not because one is better than the other, but because the two things become something of their own when they are tied together. That is still where the centre is.