The Only Rational Response to Lack of Boat Progress and Inclement Weather:

Its spring here in New Zealand. "Yay!" you think, "Dave will be heartened by the improving weather and this period will see untold progress on his little boat!" In fact, quite the opposite is true. In this evergreen country with little wildlife, all spring represents is a period of uncomfortable wind and a negligible decrease in rain over winter-proper. The nation suffers collective amnesia, having forgotten that the year before (and all those before that) featured these disgusting, non-boat-compatible conditions, and that the repeated disappointment could be avoided if either we remembered what 'spring' means, or perhaps called it something more realistic, such as "Extended Winter" or "the season of hopelessness, depression, and eventual death."

As such I am resigned to a state of abject self-pity. I can't do anything in the wind, it unsettles me. I end up going inside to paint watercolour pictures of wistful-looking iguanas trapped in the bottom of buckets, stood under a leaky shower in a draught-plagued dungeon. This activity is the only therapy available to us "spring sufferers."

As so often happens, particularly amongst us sailing folk, I've turned to drink. More accurately, I've turned back to drink. Or, to be exhaustive, I've made a triumphant return to a successful homebrewing operation (gotcha!).

GOJ - A porter, 9%+ ABV, coffee, oats, cocoa.. BOOM.

My punk rock bro and I made our first batch of the 'G.O.J.' in March, soon after which he disappeared to Australia and the operation ceased. A couple of months back it resumed with his return, and the new batch of the sweet nectar compelled us (in its excellence and smashability) to begin to take the science seriously.


In taking the profound learnings of all science and philospohy, we were guided (both by logic and an overwhelming spiritual predilection) towards the vision of drums filled with the ominous black liquid, pressurised with gas, which as well as enhancing the body of the beverage, would force it out the drum and through a tap when it was opened. We postulated, in hushed, reverential tones, that one could place a glass underneath this "tap" and collect the improved GOJ there and drink it.


We were dismayed to find that someone else has already invented this, and given it the uninspiring moniker of "Draught Beer." Even some pubs have it apparently.

As men of immense fortitude, we recovered after only a few spilt tears, and got cracking. Jack had happened upon a tap in a second hand store, and I figured everything else required could be found around the house. I had a tank of argon for welding with a regulator, and hoses, which just left a temporary 'keg' to be found. The best we could manage was a 1L pineapple juice bottle, which would just have to do.

Holes were drilled in the bottle cap, which were pleasantly snug. The pickup hose (to the tap) was fed through so it'd be just off the bottom of the bottle, and the gas inlet just poked through enough to allow for gluing. Hot glue was chosen for its fast drying time, and it provided a reasonable seal.

All that was required thereafter was adjustment of the gas flow, and we were drinking draught GOJ! Euge arrived during our first sips (as is his enviable habit) and we proceeded to smash keg after keg. As the rain set in we moved the rig to Euge's house, and Jack and I properly began the inaugural boozy do.

GOJ's performance as a heavy prolonged drinking beer was mixed. Both of us experienced time travel and teleportation on a regular basis, sometimes both at once. It was quite unsettling, but I did get to witness the Norman conquest of Wales (King Gruffudd ap Llywelyn's a dick by the way). The caffeine in the GOJ seemed to have undergone some kind of metamorphosis also, as we got the jittery, delirious side of it but not so much of the stimulation.

From what I can work out we only had about three pints each, but we were absolutely schmammered. Upon reaching our respective beds, we both passed out easily enough, but awoke about two hours later and didn't manage to sleep again that night. The current batch has been made with Decaf, and we expect more sleep and less teleportation in the next event.

It was a great time however, and at least we've taught spring a thing or two about respect. I'm investigating installing a keg setup in the boat once she's working again, but ultimately Neptune must sort his weather out before I'll bestowing him that honour.

Stay tuned for the preparation and testing of a 50L keg - plus more boat action!