There's something phallic about a bowsprit. A mighty timber jutting forth proudly from the bow of the vessel, and it's especially demasculinizing to see it carted off, leaving our formerly well endowed boat to sit in shame and make excuses for why it doesn't have, well, you know: something of mention in that one particular area.
We have ten days of good weather (and perhaps more), so for that I'm quite thankful. The mast is held aft by the now-loosened aft stay with the boom being supported by the dodger, but up forward it's a bridle of sorts going down around the bobstay fitting. I'm glad I can tie knots well and I feel more comfortable making temporary standing rigging switch outs if need be, but I'd like to get the rig resecured as soon as possible.
My friend Stan helped us drive it up to my carpenter friend Gray's in Escondido. I went back the next day bringing some hardware and West Systems Epoxy (for gluing wood and the general awesomeness of epoxy).
So for now I have to let the wood repairs happen, and get ready to remount the bowsprit when it's ready. Otherwise I can just walk by and gently pat Rebel Heart's gunwales, saying that really, size doesn't matter and no one notices.