Tuesday February 15, 2011
I hauled Gene up the mast this morning so we could get started with the re-rigging job. I am always very nervous about hauling him because one time he dropped a few inches, and we both had heart attacks. It really wasn’t my fault, but to hear him talk, you’d think I tried to kill him. Lucky thing I am the reporter so you will get the truth. In the case of the short, but rapid, drop: I needed to unwrap a wrap on the wench and I yelled up to him to hang on. I got a definite “OK” back. I then unwrapped and even though he was hanging on to the spreaders, he felt the tension go and it scared him. He proceeded to yell, and I yelled back that I told him to hang on. He didn’t think I was going to totally let off pressure and I didn’t know he expected only a slight lessening. Really? Am I supposed to hold all his weight with one hand on the line while I unwrap with the other? After that bit of drama I get stressed about this job. We’ve done it plenty of times since the scare, but I still dread it.
Once he was up, he discovered what he was hoping he wouldn’t find, but knew he would. The stem-ball tang cup for the intermediate shrouds is fused and won’t budge. He will have to take up a torch and heat it in hopes it will loosen. I get a break till the next haul-up because Gene has to go into town to buy a propane torch.