Liam’s Take
We hadn’t planned to stay. But by the time we’d flushed tanks, checked filters, and found the decent showers, it was too late to move. Ryan mentioned food. I said he could cook. We ended up walking.
Lagos at night was louder than I expected. Rua 25 de Abril was full of buskers, all stepping on each other. A woman near the square was playing a saw with a bow. Sounded better than the lad with the acoustic shouting through a half-broken amp.
We found a bar called Bon Vivant. Too much neon, but the beer was cold and they didn’t make us wait. Some bloke from Quebec was explaining cloud shapes to a German divemaster. She looked like she could sail circles around him. Ryan was interested. I wasn’t.
We ordered sardines and bread. The vinho verde was warm. Ryan said it was decent. I didn’t finish mine.
Two Kiwi women sat next to us. One had come up from the Canaries — rudder trouble outside Madeira. Ryan leaned in like he was taking notes. I asked where she got her shackles. Lisbon. Of course.
Mam called just before midnight. Said Da had been “testing his hip” by carrying logs again. I said we’d check in from the next stop. He asked if we were eating properly. I lied.
Got back to the boat late. Some guy was passed out on our gangplank. Ryan gave him a blanket. I stepped around him and went below.
Ryan’s Take
It was meant to be just a walk. Stretch our legs, maybe grab some fruit. See if Lagos looked any better in the dark.
By ten we were two beers in, sitting outside Bon Vivant, half-listening to a couple of women talk about losing steering halfway between Madeira and nowhere. One of them had a way of describing sea state that made it sound like a language you either speak or drown in. Liam asked about her rigging. I didn’t say much. I was just trying to hold onto the feeling of not being in motion for once.
The town was still buzzing. The main street lit up like it wanted to prove something. Music leaking out of every second doorway. A man balancing a pint on his head while walking backwards. A hen party in tennis skirts chanting the word “shots” like it had religious meaning. I thought about filming something but didn’t.
There’s a church up near the centre — Santo António — with white walls and chipped corners. We passed it by accident. I stood there for a bit while Liam waited. I didn’t say anything. Just looked.
Mam called just before we got back. She asked if we were still on “that boat.” Said we looked pale in the last photo. Da wanted to know if Liam had fixed the bilge pump. I handed the phone over without answering.
On the way back, we passed a guy in a wetsuit carrying a baguette and nothing else. No context. No questions.
When we got to the dock, someone was sleeping across the passerelle. Not dead. Just drunk or done. I gave him a blanket and left him to it.
Liam was already below. I sat on deck for a bit. The breeze finally moved.
Lagos is loud. And weird. But I didn’t mind it, in the end.
