Ryan’s Take
Leaving the Rías Baixas felt like walking out of the pub before the session had even started properly. A bit wrong. Unfinished. The Galician coast had been good to us—well, mostly. The boat? Not so much. But time barrels on, doesn’t it? And so do we. Porto was next on the list. February isn’t exactly prime sailing season, but at least the rain was more of a miserable drizzle than a biblical punishment, and the wind—shockingly—wasn’t out to kill us. Small wins.
The Atlantic, though—grey, endless, and about as inviting as a landlord demanding rent. Seabirds followed us, circling like they knew something we didn’t, watching, judging. The boat held its course, everything damp but strangely peaceful. No disasters, for once. And then? Ah, but of course.
I went arse-over-tits.
Now, usually, it’s Liam who’s doing the unplanned gymnastics across the deck. He moves like a puppy that hasn’t grown into its paws yet. Me? I’m the careful one. The fella who checks things twice. So when I found myself airborne, my only thought—right before my phone yeeted itself into the sea—was: I hate everything.
Next thing? Instinct kicked in. Straight overboard after it. Smart? Not even remotely. Did I think about the fact that the phone was already a lost cause? Absolutely not. Just hit the water, surfaced empty-handed, and immediately regretted all my life choices while Liam keeled over, howling.
Result? Phone: gone. Self-respect: gone. Dignity? Oh, long gone.
Liam’s Take
There are moments in life that make everything worthwhile. This was one of them.
For once—for once—I wasn’t the idiot of the hour. Usually, I’m the fella knocking things over, losing tools, tripping on absolutely nothing. But Ryan? Mr. Sensible? Watching him go flying and then, like an eejit, actually dive in after his phone? Oh, that was gold.
I heard the slip before I saw it. That thud. That startled yelp. And then? Splash. When I turned, there he was, mid-air, arms out like he thought he was some Olympic diver. And then he surfaced, empty-handed, looking more like a drowned rat than a man. That was it. I was done. Collapsed, tears streaming, trying not to fall over from the sheer joy of it all.
Should I have helped him back aboard? Probably. Did I? No. Too busy gasping for breath between fits of laughter.
When Ryan eventually stopped sulking (an hour, minimum), we had to face facts. The deck? A bloody death trap. And considering we’ve a bad habit of sailing in weather no sane person would, this was becoming a serious liability.
The Non-Skid Dilemma
Ryan’s Take
Alright. Time to fix this. Quick Google: the cheap way to make a deck non-skid is mixing epoxy resin with beach sand. Simple. Easy. Job done.
One problem: we couldn’t find epoxy resin anywhere.
More Googling led us to a company called Infinity Effects Spain, they make epoxy resins and resin binders for flooring. Perfect, right? Except they were on the entirely wrong side of the country. And we, as always, were broke.
So now what? Do we wait? Do we try some other fix? Or do we just accept that we’ll be flinging ourselves across the deck like human bowling pins for the foreseeable future? (Liam, unhelpfully, votes for option three.)
Liam’s Take
Listen. A bit of slipping keeps things exciting. But Ryan—who is still sulking over his phone, let’s be honest—is determined to find a fix before one of us breaks something important. Like an arm. Or our last surviving bit of sanity.
The issue? Money. We blew most of our budget on the boat. No fancy marine coatings for us. The epoxy-sand trick is great—if we could actually find the bloody stuff.
Until then? We walk carefully. Or, well, Ryan does. Me? I’m embracing the chaos.
Arriving in Porto
Ryan’s Take
By the time we pulled into Porto, we were drenched. The boat was drenched. Morale was… damp, to put it politely. But the city? Even under lead-grey skies, it was magic. Cobbled streets, old stone buildings, the kind of place that makes you forget your toes are still numb from falling into the Atlantic like a gobshite.
Now comes the real decision: track down the epoxy, or continue our career as professional deck acrobats? Given our track record, I think we all know where this is heading.
Liam’s Take
Ryan’s going to obsess over the deck until it’s sorted. Me? I have more pressing concerns. Namely, finding a decent glass of port and watching Ryan try to exist without his phone. Priorities, like.
Stay tuned. Either we sort the non-skid situation, or we add “falling overboard” to the daily routine.
(But at least, for once, it won’t be me.)
Until next time,
Ryan & Liam
The Ocean Bois
