Roger Family Sailing Adventures: Blue Pearl Bootstripe

Our bootstripe was in terrible condition. So it was on our list of things to do once we hauled. Looking forward to it. A friend (with significant practical skills and accomplishments) told me about an inexpensive fix. Mask it, scuff it up with sandpaper and paint it from a can. Easy, peasy… and cheap. How much is a can of paint?

I should have known, though. I have a way of screwing up the simplest tasks. And I have the artistic intuition of a five year old.

I know, I know… not fair to five-year-olds. Many five year olds have very good skills and parents and grandparents love their work.

Papa on his sailboat - by Jack! (5 years old)

But people with the skills of a five year old shouldn't paint their expensive sailboat.

The spray paint went on in a great mess, leaving gaps and puddles everywhere. There were bare patches and sags right next to each other. As Pam grew more and more critical, I grew more stoic. Finally, the can ran out just before I was going to throw it at a dog that was wandering by, looking judgementally at my work.

I ran for the thinner and wiped off as much as I could. Sulked the rest of the night. Didn’t sleep well at all. Horrible paint job and the Canucks lost. Next day, after it hardened I sanded off as much as I could. As a second shot, I decided to use the “roll and tip” method with some topsides paint I found in our spares locker. Got that out and put it down on the only flat spot on the boat… Pam’s suitcase.

I was standing outside looking at the job in front of me, having nightmarish visions of how I might screw up "roll and tip," when a painter working on a nearby boat came over to commiserate… and maybe get a cash job. Turns out, he doesn’t speak English… as least not the version I’m familiar with. However, we were able to agree that for a reasonable sum (Pam’s not in complete agreement on this part) he would fix it. I gave him half down as a deposit and then he said something in his language and I said goodnight.

We spent a more cheerful night in our boat… on the hard… until Pam found that the old, old, old paint cans were leaking on her suitcase. I was thinking how much easier it will be to spot it on the luggage carousel but she didn’t share my enthusiasm. She’s not happy about her new, unique suitcase.

So another quiet evening… in the boat… on the hard.

Next day… no painter and the day is wearing on. We're wondering where he is... and where our deposit is. Then he arrived but didn’t seem too interested. Finally he came over and spoke in his language… then all hell broke loose.

And this is what he did…