Time for another model update, just so's you don't think I've thrown an old sheet over everything and run off.
Finished the deck-planking the night before we left town for an extra-long weekend in beautiful, small-town Gibsons. Gibsons, by the way, is apparently famous, though you couldn't tell it by me. It's where they filmed Beachcombers, a defunct teevee show in which there is enough continuing interest to prompt someone to film a followup movie. Yeah, I never heard of it either.
Be that as it may, we spent altogether three lovely days puttering around the garden of long-suffering friends who patiently continued to do chores and even paying work while stepping over our lounging forms. Before you begin to pity them too much, below is the sort of view they have to put up with constantly.
We tore ourselves away from all this gracious by-god living Monday, and have since been recovering from the shock of returning to our own lives. Building the model has helped. Well, me, anyway. Nola's had to resort to drugs, plus that old standby, Cleaning Out the Office. The two go together remarkably well.
This is the sledge. No Arctic expeditionary force would be without at least one of these, since that would mean the dogs had nothing to pull and if you've ever lived with a husky, you know what a recipe for disaster that can be. Most times the runners are coated every morning with a thin film of ice, or ice and mud, to minimize friction. The St. Roch crew, I am told, went one better—they coated their runners with oatmeal. Saved carrying it, and may have improved the taste.
This is the winch for taking up and letting down the anchors. There's nothing special about it, certainly not like with the sledge that be practically hand-sewn, nor like with the important boat bit upon which it rests, which I've made with entirely the wrong size of wood, I'm hoping that won't matter too much. It's just there, done more or less correctly. Well, something has to be. I can't screw everything up, you know.
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The Beachcombers was a very popular, very long-running TV series that was great family fun. It was syndicated in quite a few countries, including Japan, I think. I’d have to google it, it’s been awhile, so my facts are hazy. Bruno Gerussi was the lead, and has since passed away, so a remake will never be the same without him.
Lovely place your friends have! Lovely boat!
(Those folks have the best luck when it comes to spectacularly beautiful yet modestly priced housing.)
I’m cut to the quick, you know, as I’ve already googled ‘beachcombers’ and included the two best links in my post. Sniffle.
The Beachcombers were called “Die Buschpiloten” and I watched the show religiously growing up in Switzerland. I loved it, they lived in this remote, beautiful place and flew around in little planes. Very cool. Little did I know that one day I would live very near the place where they were shooting the show…life has a funny way sometimes.
I’m very impressed with your ship, by the way. I could never finish such a project, have no patience.
Buschpiloten? I’m guessing that ‘beachcombing’ doesn’t exactly ring any cultural bells in Switzerland, eh?
Well, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been the last to hear of something. I was raised in a remote wilderness, after all, where there was no teevee, no, nor no electricity to run it. We grew up staring at the backsides of rocks and, when that paled as an amusement, threw them at each other. O golden days!
I give my upbringing in those halcyon surrounds all the credit for my patience with mating teeny bits of wood using great gobbits of glue. Speaking of which, I need to find the scissors. I’ll never comb this out.
“Buschpiloten” means bush pilots, also very exotic for a little swiss girl. we did have tv when i grew up, with a total of 3 channels and the program starting at 6pm. while waiting for the shows to start, we would read books, eat chocolate and yodel. golden days, indeed!
You’ve left out the stuff you did with goats. Don’t try to deny it—I’ve read Heidi.
Come clean, now. You’ll feel lots better, after.
you’re right, sorry. here is my real story: while yodeling i used to milk the goats, and actually i’m an orphan who had to live with my grumpy grandfather and i was in a wheelchair, as well for a few years. but then the healty mountain air cured me miraculously, and now i can walk again. and my best friends name is peter. that’s how it was in those days, all true. and still is. i DO feel better!