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Published: March 2nd 2011
Nuthin Wong
bobbing in the harbourWe'd seen the junk Nuthin Wong still swying in the harbour of Funchal for the harbour of Funchal for the past few weeks, and wondered when he'd be leaving.
Last Monday Clive was back on the pier with his folding table and several copies of his book. He told us he was waiting for a video camera to arrive. It was held up in Porto for some reason, but it should arrive the next day. Never send anything through Fedex, he warned us.
The camera would serve to make films in addition to his blog and in the end make a DVD of his voyage.
Anyhow, as soon as the camera had arrived, they'd leave.
Originally he was to go back to Canada. But while in Madeira he'd received an email from a old friend who had settled on one of the Marquesas Islands. And he'd asked Clive to stop by. In fact, Clive was not really happy to return to Canada, as his blood had started thinning with age and he didn't like the cold there at all.
Besides, he said, next year I'll get my pension (yes, this guy is almost sixty-five and is still sailing the high
Clive & Peter
sitting on a bench on the pier seas like the hippy he used to be!), so I'll have some more financial leeway. I'm going to the Marquesas!
Right you are, we said, carpe diem.
Clive invited us out there to visit. These friends seem to have a kind of B&B on this island, with their own environmentally friendly vegetable plot and stuff like that. Of course it is not around the corner, so we'll have to think about it a few years.
Alongside Clive on the bench was a guitar player that we'd seen a few times here and there in the streets of Funchal. A skinny German guy in his late forties. His name was Peter and he's been travelling and wandering around for about six years now. He especially like Provence. A liter of wine was cheaper than a liter of milk there!!
He makes money by playing his guitar and singing along. He's staying at the youth hostel of Funchal and every day he roams the streets, hauling along all his belongings, because the hostel has no private bedrooms and no lockers.
He is not the only street artist. There is also a Ukrainian girl who has a kind of zither
Peter singing
on the pier just for us and she sings and plays. There are two Italians guitar virtuosos. They play classical and Spanish music, and jazzy stuff. I've put a video of them on facebook, which I can only share with facebookers, sorry.
And then there are two statues. Spaniards who dress up and paint themselves every day. He is a sort of gray-green, she's gold coloured. They are always standing between Golden Gate Grand Café and Café do Teatro, about fifteen meters apart.
A few days ago, the Ukrainian girl seated herself between those two statues. And this they didn't like. They may have thought that once people have given money to the musician, they'd skip them. So what did those two creeps do? They called a policeman and told him that the Ukrainian girl didn't have a license. Peter was standing near the Golden Gate and saw it all happen, and later heard the story from the Ukrainian girl.
Peter didn't have a licence either. He went to the town hall to ask about it. A nice lady there gave him a document on official paper, stating that he was permitted to perform in the streets of Funchal. This administrative costs of
Peter's shoes
cover your noses this permit? 0 euros.
Clive asked Peter for a private performance there on the pier (now that he was officially declared to the local authorities), before he'd go into town for the “real” work. And he did. Peter sang for us Ïn the port of Amsterdam”, this wonderful song by Jacques Brel, who sang it mostly in French, Dans le port d'Amsterdam. Fair is fair, Brel was ten times better. But to have Peter perform live on the pier in Funchal is also special.
Later, Peter told us that Brel had lived in the Marquesas in the years before he died, and he was buried there. Clive had never heard of Brel (!), but he liked the song very much, and he said he'd look him up on the Internet. And maybe visit the grave when he'd reached the Marquesas.
He had also invited Peter to sail with them to the first stop, the Canary Island of La Gomera, about 660 km from Madeira. They were still one crew member short on the Nuthin Wong, and that means more watches for everyone. Peter said he had to sleep on it, but he was definitely attracted to the idea.
Spanish statues
getting ready to be a statue Clive wanted to leave on Tuesday after the camera arrived. Around noon he thought. The camera was supposed to be delivered around eleven o'clock at the Marina. We promised to be there to say goodbye and take some pictures of the Nuthin Wong leaving the harbour.
Tuesday we were on the pier at about eleven. The Nuthin Wong was still there, and we just at that moment saw a rowing boat sail away with two people inside. One was Clive. He saw us, and he stopped rowing to wave at us.
After they'd arrived at the port he got onto the jetty with his (much younger) girlfriend Sylvie. He had an armful of empty five-liter water bottles, which he left at one of the water points along the jetty.
While he went to collect the camera, we settled down at one of the waterside cafes. Meanwhile Peter had also arrived, all packed and ready it seemed. So Clive though that he was coming along to La Gomera. But Peter had been tossing and turning all night and in the end felt that he didn't have the "cojones" to go on this sailing trip. He remembered vividly a
trip of four hours on the ferry from Denmark to Norway. He was very sick all the way (like many of the other passengers) and still felt awful for the rest of the day on shore. And maybe he was too much of an "Einzelgänger" to fit into the club aboard the Nuthin Wong, he thought. Besides, he knew nothing about sailing and watchkeeping.
Clive came back with the camera and went straight to the Customs office for the necessary paperwork and then on to the market for some last minute victuals. An hour later he was back. He stopped at our table and realized at that moment that he missed the camera. "Blast, left the camera at the market!"
Hurray for cell phones. He called his Sylvie (who he calls Lucy) and he texted him moments later "Got it ". Pooh, what a relief.
Meanwhile, Clive started working on Peter again. The watches were not a problem, he assured him. There were always two to keep watch for six hours, where you relieved each other every hour at the helm. Then you had twelve hours off. Off meaning, time for all the other odd jobs on board, of
course! And also, they could use some extra music!
At one o'clok, Clive said, come on, I'm off to the Policia Maritima to sign out, and then we can at the same time sign you up as a crew member, Peter. And yes, Peter got up and walked along with Clive. He looked back at us helplessly, but five minutes later he came back as an official crew member of the Nuthin Wong.
Okay, we leave at two, Clive said. I'll have a hamburger and check my email at the internet cafe. Peter will sing for another hour around the town. See you later?
Of course you will, we said.
We also had a bite to eat, and by two o'clock we were back at the pier. We saw the Nuthin Wong bobbing in the harbour, the row boat was still tied to the jetty and the water bottles still empty. No sign of Clive or Peter or Sylvie.
We sat in the sun for an hour. But then we had to leave for Paul's final saxophone lesson with Ollie. What a shame.
Fortunately, from Ollie's attic where the lessons always take place, there's a magnificent view
tender to
the Nuthin Wong is stell there too over the bay and the port of Funchal. When we arrived at Ollie's, the boat was still there. Ten minutes later I saw it sailing slowly around the harbor, the sails were hoisted, and off it went to La Gomera. Accompanied by the appropriate strains of "Stranger on the Shore" by Mr. Acker Bilk (clarinetist), played by Ollie and Paul on the sax.
It seemed to go very slowly, seen from above, as the wind was practically gone. We read later on the internet, if you have a nice favourable breeze in your sails, you get a speed of up to a speed five or six knots. And that's not really all that much speed, is it.
I will email the photos to Clive and then we 'll hear later how it all went:-)
Follow the adventures of Nuthin Wong and her crew:
http://www.nuthin-wong.blogspot.com/
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