In the process of losing his mind, Dad gets chatting to the owner/skipper of SB Greta and volunteers to help scraping barnacles off her nether regions. He's at it for 3 hours this morning and comes back aching all over. The barge, in dry dock, is up on blocks only waist height to Dad, so he's working in a space where no-one can stand. There's a lot of kneeling, twisting, reaching and using unaccustomed muscles.
The wee beasties are scraped off first with a garden hoe, then for more detailed attention, with a little triangular paint scraper. Steve (owner/skipper) then follows on with the big industrial jet-wash. This all prior to the old girl getting new anti-fouling paint (which Steve jokes is a complete waste of time because as soon as she sits down on the mud again at low tide all the paint gets squidged off).
And here, as promised, the old transom (flat stern) of the SB Oak, looking like the guys in this container yard are actually looking to preserve the relic, rather than letting it moulder in the hedge along with the bits of her bottom.
It's all bottoms today
Deefer.
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