Hanging in the Balance.

 An ember of spring glows from within the wan winter sunlight. The barges huddle, cloaked against the chill air, beside Faversham's Standard Quay.

Waiting, with an irridescent mallard drake and his overshadowed mate, for the return of the tide. Perched upon castles of unctuous East Coast ooze, moated by soupy silt laden rivulets.

In the square, market day shoppers luxuriate in warming pools of sunshine. As I perform the first ritual of a new season : the collection of Stargazer's sails. Freshly valeted in Wilkinson's loft.

At the Scotline Quay, on the Medway, a newly arrived coaster is relieved of her burden. As the busy crane delves, into her lucky-dip hold, the ship rises from the river. The red band, of visible antifouling, broadening in time to the burgeoning of the stack of crates atop the wharf.

Stargazer's EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon) rescue beacon is delivered. Of the latest generation, it is able to communicate with the Galileo as well as GPS positioning satellites (for greater coverage) ;  incorporates an AIS transmitter (for greater accuracy) ; and displays a confirmation that any distress transmission has been received (for reassurance, in the event of an emergency). 

It fits into an un-trafficked, but quickly accessible space, on the bulkhead aft of Stargazer's galley. Within easy reach of the companionway. Replacing a pocket sized PLB (Personal Locator Beacon) with a now expired battery and, even in its prime, inferior capabilities.

The replacement for the replacement domestic water pump (which was damaged in transit) also arrives. In the thirteen years, since the original pump was fitted, the model has been redesigned. Growing taller in the process. Necessitating some modifications, in order to achieve a satisfactory installation.

The ember of spring glows brighter now. The sun grows stronger. The days longer.

I journey, by train, into London, to present my case for a French long stay (six month) visa. Stargazer's ticket to a summer of seaborne exploration, in the Golfe de Gascogne.

Bullrushes nod outside the TLS (visa agent's) offices. Within, the scrutiny, of my documents, is far more rigorous than was last year's. First the desk officer summons her supervisor, then she her manager. The debate ranges back and forth, between the four of us, for half an hour. We appear united by a desire, to coax my anomalous round-peg application through a regulatory square hole (designed for those with fixed terrestrial French addresses; and who are either employed or drawing a pensions, not floating betwixt the two).

Eventually, all the boxes, on the application screening checklist, are ticked. The visa application is to be forwarded, to the French embassy, for consideration.  The fate of Stargazer's summer cruise hangs in the balance.

 Picture Credits

EPIRB schematic courtesy of  OceanSignal.com