Today I found a 46-year-old tin of brass polish in the bilge of La Sirena.
It was tucked away amongst the accumulated remains of other people’s ownership — one of those small things that had somehow survived decades aboard the boat while owners, destinations and plans came and went.
The tin is almost as old as La Sirena herself.
Finding it seemed to give me my instructions for the day.
La Sirena has ten brass portholes, and judging by their appearance, I’m not convinced they’ve had much attention from that particular tin for a very long time. So I opened it, found that the polish was somehow still usable, and started rubbing away decades of tarnish.
Slowly, the brass began to appear again.
There’s something strangely satisfying about restoring an old boat this way. Not replacing something. Not upgrading it. Not ordering the newest version from a marine catalogue.
Just uncovering what was already there.
La Sirena is 46 years old. She has crossed a lot of water and carried lives I know very little about. Every scratched piece of wood, old fitting and forgotten tin in the bilge is part of that history.
I’m not trying to erase all of it.
I’m just trying to look after her for the next part of the journey.
There are still nine brass portholes waiting for me.
And somewhere underneath all that tarnish, they still shine.
