Making the cushions was Britt's idea, and the project started back in Isla de Margarita, Venezuela, when we wandered all over Porlamar looking for goma espuma -- that is to say, foam rubber. We got a big sheet of it (although open-cell rather than closed-cell was all that was available), along with several yards of a plasticky fabric that looked like the stuff that tablecloths in cheap outdoor eateries are made from, and a big length of plastic zipper. We learned the Spanish word for "zipper" but not the word for "zipper pull", so we went to the various notion shops asking for "the thing that is on a zipper to open and close it".
Britt made inner sleeves for the cushions out of the plastic fabric, the idea being that they would keep any moisture out of the foam. We had some Sunbrella aboard, which he had planned to use to cover the cushions. But we were in the outer islands of Venezuela, far from any fabric store, when we discovered that we didn't have enough. Britt used some of a light, stretchy fabric he had bought to make cockpit sunshades, and covered one of the cushions, but I didn't like the way it looked or felt, and the off-white fabric quickly got even more off white with dirt.
So
in Cartagena we went fabric shopping. Shopping is a major pasttime
here; every street is lined with stores, and in front of the stores
are open booths and stands selling yet more items, and wandering
vendors with wheelbarrows filled with even more items. Each street
specializes in one particular type of goods. There is a shoe area, a
paper and stationery area, and one park we found filled entirely with
cut flowers for sale.
Of course, there is a "sewing street", with fabric stores, button stores, ribbon and notion stores, stores selling nothing but thread on tall, conical spools. In three visits we probably went into every single one. A clerk would approach us with what appears to be the universal Colombian business greeting: "A la orden." This essentially means "at your service," and although I have never heard it in any other Spanish-speaking country I have been in, I hear it twenty times a day here, coming and going. When we get into a taxi, the driver says, "A la orden." When we get out of the taxi and hand him his money, he says, "A la orden." Clearly, Colombia is a very ordenary place!
After much deliberation we chose a geometric pattern which Britt liked because the straight lines would make cutting the fabric easier, and which I liked because it looked like it wouldn't show dirt. In another store we purchased a gigantic lifetime-supply-size spool of beige thread for $1.75, from a teenage clerk who seemed vastly amused that two gringos were buying thread instead of the usual tourist t-shirts and souvenirs. As Britt had already figured out the basic pattern, the actual cutting and construction of the cushion covers went relatively quickly. Then he added straps and buckles, and corresponding pieces in the cockpit, so the cushions will stay on even while we are rolling or heeling. Finally, he made covers for two little pillows he'd made by cutting one of our old bed pillows in half, and turned the leftover goma espuma from the cushions into a third wedge-shaped pillow for optimal reclining.
So now we have a comfy cockpit, especially since Britt did yet another sewing project and constructed a big curtain as a sunshade. Our Sailrite sewing machine has been getting quite a workout, as we have not only done these projects but also repaired and reinforced our jib and our cockpit canvas (the bimini shade over the cockpit, and the spray dodger which protects the front). The fiberglass is all washed and waxed, and the teak and stainless steel gleam. Inside the boat we have been working hard, too, taking advantage of dockside water and power to wash and vacuum everything that's washable and vacuumable. Even our windows are sparkling, no longer covered with a layer of salt on the outside and grime on the inside.
Just in time, too. Our friend Kevin arrived today, putting an end to our labors on the boat. Now it's time to be tourists.