Registering a house in Brazil

I posted some time ago about my house hunting in Brazil (House hunting in Brazil) and my paranoia about getting legal title when most properties did not appear to have any. I have a friend who bought a piece of land (two adjacent plots) 10 years ago with the intention of building a house, which would also serve as a language school, as at the time she was renting and not making enough to finance the construction as well.
To cut a long story short she was away for 6 years trying to raise enough money teaching in Europe to finish the construction - having only completed the foundations and the ground floor walls, no roof, before she left. Due to a change in circumstances she is now planning to sell the property, but like most here does not have title deeds (escritura), though she does have a legal document, which is a "Promesa de compra e venda" - Promise of sale and purchase. These are drawn up before final registration, and are legally binding between the two parties - the seller promises to transfer ownership of the property when the buyer finishes paying for it. Often land purchases are made in instalments, not necessarily with a legal mortgage but simply (ir)regular payments made by the buyer to the seller, so this document means the buyer retains title until payment is made in full, but guarantees that he transfers title upon completion! The process could take years.
The problem my friend is having is that this "promise" was made 10 years ago, and while still legally binding - and she paid in full at the time! - the land where she is was never zoned for residential building, and still, apparently, has not been formally scheduled as such by the local authorities. She went to the local land registry and was told that they cannot register her title, but that she could sell on the land - with another "promise" document, and the original vendor would still be liable to register the title in the new buyer's name, when and if registration become possible. It turns out that she, too, did not buy from the original seller (who was himself a lawyer!), but from the person he sold the plot to originally!
People here have an in-built distrust of the legal profession, so much of the legal processes are done at a "cartorio" (registry office), rather than using solicitors. When someone passes away often they die intestate (no will) so there is then a battle between the heirs - large families so could be several sons/daughters and even ex-wives/partners - and they will all try and lay claim to any land, often selling off plots rapidly to raise money. Two or three children sometimes sell the same plot, leaving future problems for the buyers, or the oldest child (or a brother/spouse/etc.) may come along later and claim that they were the real heir! All of these could be avoided by using solicitors, having a will, and so on - but without this "protection" it makes for years of litigation!
The land is officially in an Environmental Protection Area, so should never be zoned for residential, but there are around 100 houses in the area, most, if not all, without proper legal title - and some are large multi-bedroomed guest houses. Others are paying local council taxes, and have electric and water supplies, but IBAMA (Brazil's environment agency) is not happy that the council are allowing this construction to occur, and may, if they get government backing, take action against the "land" owners, though they have been trying for years. It is more than likely that they will have to back down and allow the council to zone it as residential, and then permit registration of title, but this could still take some years.
Everyone goes along believing that the system will eventually prevail and they are safe buying property on these "promises", and that they can register proper title at some later, unspecified date, which is something that I could never do!

Having a house-guest stay with you!

I have lived alone now for at least 15 years - my choice - and really enjoy the freedom it allows me. I can eat when I want, go to bed when I want (I am now retired), wander round the house in as little clothing as I want (not overlooked!!), and basically do exactly what I want, when I want! The past 10 years I have had someone stay here before 3 times - the first was my daughter and husband-to-be, visiting Brazil for the first time, and we only came to my house after doing some travelling round Brazil (Pantanal, Iguazu waterfall, etc.) and had shared accommodation in some places along the way, and they were only here for two or three days before having to return to the UK. The second was a friend who was leaving Brazil for 2 years, intending to return, and who left a lot of her belongings in my house - that was only for one night before I took her to the bus station to start her journey back to Europe. The third was my second cousin (daughter of my cousin), who I had not met before, but she was travelling the world and stayed a couple of nights. All 3 of these were uneventful, and quite enjoyable.
The friend who left the belongings is back - 6 years after she left - to sort her affairs out for a final time. We have known each other for over 10 years, and are good friends - she used to have permanent residence (though lost it because she was out of the country too long for medical reasons), and we had discussed ways she could help me get mine, even the suggestion of a "marriage of convenience", which we were seriously considering once she came back (within the 2 year limit, so that option is no longer available), so we are really good friends.
If I go and stay with anyone I follow their rules, or at least their routine - so if breakfast is at 07.00, then I am up at 06.50, unless they are happy for me to make my own (though personally I would not want to upset their routine), lunch at 12.30, then I am there helping, and dinner at 19.00, likewise. It is the third day, and there is a week to go, and my friend has been appearing after 08.30 (currently 09.00 and no sign of her!), and eventually eating breakfast around 09.30, so is not hungry by my lunchtime, and has been going out to meet other friends here she hasn't seen for years (and prospective property purchasers) in the evening, so out when I have my dinner. The last two nights she has returned after midnight, too! She told me yesterday she preferred a large meal at lunchtime as I eat too early, so she would be hungry again by midnight!
The reason she has been away so long is for her health, and she is suffering in the heat here after Europe, so prefers to do anything in the evening, not the heat of the day, but spends the day either sorting through the things she left here, or "resting" because of her health! But most of the time it is complaining about the heat, or how she cannot do the things she used to take for granted, or about how difficult it is proving to sell her property - people only want half the land, or to finance the purchase (paying her directly in instalments, not through a mortgage).
One way I could get permanent residence here is through marriage, but the past few days have taught me that after 15 years alone (not lonely, I hasten to add) I do not want to share my living space with anyone else, and am counting down the days till I get my "castle" back to myself!

Blatant dishonesty

Just after I woke a couple of days ago I heard very loud talking in the street outside, and went to the window to see what was going on. A neighbour, from about a block away, was talking to another at the corner. He is naturally very loud so I could hear every word clearly, though had not heard the start of the conversation.
He owns a large guest house down the street, and on occasion coach-loads of tourists come to stay, though sometimes the coaches refuse to drive down the steep street so the guests have to walk down the hill. The gist of the conversation was that he had not yet erected a signboard outside as if he did he would have to start paying Council Tax on the guest house, but currently was only paying a nominal amount as a residence (Council Tax is very low here on domestic premises). He was complaining loudly about the tax rates, and was going to avoid them as long as he could.
I went down past his building today and he was outside and we started talking about a plot of cleared land opposite, which I though was going to be turned into another residence, but he said that he, and other neighbours, had cleared this to make a "leisure area" near the river, and allow for additional parking/turning (no doubt for the coaches, which have to reverse back uphill at present!). He invited me in (we are acquaintances) and he showed me round. Currently there are 18 en-suite rooms, with plans for more, and a large swimming pool almost completed, and he has a superb view over our small river.
He proudly told me that he didn't advertise much locally to keep "under the radar", but relied on external tour companies to bring guests to him. He also works as a local tour guide so has contacts with tour agencies outside the region. As well as not paying local taxes, he is not registered as a local business so pays no income tax either! This also means he is not covered by any health and safety measures, and I would also bet that he has no public liability insurance!
One of his neighbours is the Secretary for Tourism, working for the local government, and obviously is aware of the situation regarding non-payment of any taxation, but he also runs a local restaurant so benefits from this influx of tourism, and, in his opinion, any additional tourism is great for the town, so turns a blind eye.
What was ironic was that the guest house owner was complaining that he was having to fund some of the work to build the "leisure area", along with other neighbours, as the local council wasn't interested - appearing to ignore the fact that perhaps the council did not have sufficient funds if he, and others, were avoiding paying all their taxes!
I have always prided myself on my own honesty, have never, and would never, steal anything, cannot even walk out of a shop if I have been undercharged, or over-changed, would never try and evade my taxes (local or income), even if I felt they were too high (though I would protest through legal channels if I felt I was being treated unfairly in any way), and always try and be fair and honest in all my dealings, so seeing someone doing this so blatantly, and seeming so proud of the fact, really leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Boating in Norfolk - Part 4

We had a transit van we used for deliveries from our grocery store/bakery and this was great for bringing all the gear to the boat. We took the inflatable tender and engine home, and also a large fuel can which we filled on the way to the boat each time - once back in Africa we had run out of fuel on the Zambezi so took no chances now!

Our transit van, and in front my Honda 650 bike.

The bike, in the photo, was only used when we had more than three of us heading to the boat - 3-person bench seat in the front of the transit.
So the following weekend everything was in place for our first proper fishing adventure - the boat was in good nick, fuel filled, bait collected (we drove past a tackle shop on the way where we could buy lug-worms, the favoured bait along this stretch of coast), and my nephew dosed with anti-seasickness pills. The weather forecast was for good conditions so we were looking forwards to our trip.
Sunday morning was clear with no mist, and little wind so we motored across Breydon Water, through Great Yarmouth harbour, and out into the North Sea again! Bearing in mind how our first trip had finished with engine problems we decided that we wouldn't go very  far this time, so dropped our anchor a hundred metres or so away from the shipping lane, and soon had our lines in. I had traded our beach-casting gear in at the tackle shop for boat fishing tackle, and Dad and I had identical Shakespeare rods, with Penn multiplier reels and 35 pound test line, with lighter tackle for Paulo, who was about 12 at the time.
Soon I was catching Flounder, some nice ones to about 3 pounds, and Dad and Paulo, on the opposite side of the boat were catching ... nothing! Dad and I even swapped places and though he did manage to catch one, I still ended up with 9 to his one! Identical tackle, identical bait, and line dropped no more than 3 metres apart!
While we were fishing we noticed some commotion in the harbour entrance about half a mile away, and a couple of tugs and rig support vessels appeared towing an oil rig out of the harbour. We were well off the shipping lane, but they seemed to be slowly heading straight towards us, giving us cause for concern. It appeared that they may simply be manoeuvring to turn the rig, though they were edging closer and closer to us, and some other small boats fishing the area, but had not yet made any signal to us of their intentions. Eventually we decided to use our discretion and raised the anchor to move further South out of the way, but, unfortunately, the fish stopped biting in the new spot so we headed home. The journey home was uneventful and back home Mum cooked us the Flounder for dinner!
That actually turned out to be our last North Sea fishing trip! We tried again on several occasions, but the mist was too thick most of the time - on one day we could not even start across Breydon Water as we couldn't see the navigation marker posts - and on another occasion we reached the harbour mouth and a large swell was coming in. We decided that once past the opening it might be OK so made a run at it, but the waves were much taller than the boat and did not seem to be much better beyond. The problem then was how to turn round and get back in!! The wave frequency was short, and we knew that we had to turn in the trough between waves, and get our prow headed back into the harbour in that short space, since being hit broadside by a wave would possibly have swamped us! Dad trusted me with the helm and we continued meeting the waves head on while waiting and hoping that we would see an opportunity to spin round - we had the power and speed, but needed enough room to make the manoeuvre. It took about 10 waves before we decided to make a run for it, and as soon as we crested one wave I revved the engine and put us in a tight turn - it worked!! We were "surfing" down a wave back towards the harbour entrance keeping our speed just right so we didn't "catch" the preceding wave, and using throttle and rudder to keep ourselves straight, when Dad said "don't look back", which, of course, I did! The wave was almost breaking over the stern of the boat! However I had learnt enough by then not to panic, but to keep my speed and direction, and soon we entered the calmer waters of the harbour. It was an incredible experience, gave us a lot of confidence in both our ability, and, especially, that of the Petite Promesse, but we decided that we didn't want to repeat that particular experiment again.
The day I used the bike (as well as Dad driving the Transit van) my girlfriend, later to be my wife, had been staying with us, so the three of them (Dad, Paulo and Ali) had travelled in the van, and I followed on the bike. When we arrived at the marina Dad discovered he had left the gate keys, which also had the ignition key!) back at home, so I turned round and raced back to collect them. Now I am not normally a speedy rider, but Sunday morning and a desire to get out on the water (we were supposed to be back home for lunch which Mum was preparing) meant I did go somewhat faster than usual and the normal 40 minute journey in the van, took me less than 40 minutes - there and back! They had the boat ready for action by the time I got back and we went and pottered around Breydon Water for a while, before mooring up again. I mentioned before that we moored stern on to the pontoon, so had to pull the boat back, using the stretch of the nylon rope, to get close enough to step onto the pontoon. Ali wanted to get ashore so Paulo pulled the rope to get the stern close, and she started stepping across, but paused halfway - one foot in the boat the other on the pontoon, and Paulo could not hold the boat for long! The inevitable happened! Splash! Ali was in the water! The boat had a short ladder at the rear and she started climbing up, but the weight of wet clothing made this difficult - and I am afraid that both Dad and I were unable to help - we were in hysterics! Eventually we did manage to get her out, but had no dry clothing for her, though I did have a lightweight cagoule and over-trousers for my bike, so she put these on and wasn't too cold. Ali was not happy at us all laughing instead of helping, and said that Mum would be more sympathetic, though we told he it was unlikely, so I followed the van home and waited for Ali to knock on the door (we didn't take house keys with us) first - Mum opened the door, took one look at the bedraggled Ali, and burst out laughing too!! It didn't do any harm to our relationship, though, and we did eventually get married!
We kept the boat for a few months after that, and did some boating on Breydon Water, but the weather prevented us from venturing out to sea again, and shortly after that pressure of work and family meant we decided to sell the boat. It had been great fun while it lasted.

Boating in Norfolk - Part 3

The following Saturday I collected the new filter, some fuel line and fittings, and the flaring tool (which he showed me how to use) from the boat builder's yard and we headed to the marina in our transit van. We arrived pretty late so didn't get much done other than heating up a prepared meal (made by my Mum) and settled down for some sleep - my Dad in the deck area, and my nephew and I in the cabin. It was a little chilly on the water, and my Dad snores loudly, so I didn't get much sleep!
Bacon and eggs for breakfast and then I got to work on the fuel line. My Dad was an accountant, and I started out as an auditor, so we didn't have much of a mechanical background - Dad was keen on DIY, as I was, though, so we had some level of manual dexterity and between us a good deal of intelligence! This was also years before the internet and "How to" videos, or online instruction manuals, but we had purchased a "How to maintain your boast" guide, which proved invaluable.We cut out the offending bottleneck in the fuel line - there was a lot of debris that had collected again where the pipe narrowed - and replaced it with pipe and filter all the same diameter. The flaring tool did its job, and pretty soon we had replaced a section of the fuel pipe, and headed out for a test run.
The boat had come with an inflatable tender with a small outboard, so we took that with us - just in case! 

Dad and Paulo in the tender - minus the outboard on this occasion

With one of us watching the fuel line for any signs of leaks, and the other steering we soon reached Breydon Water and cranked up the power. All was fine - the pick-up was better, and she accelerated smoothly. We did a thorough test, speeding up, then slowing down, turning sharply, crossing our wake to get the fuel tank shaken up so any debris would enter the fuel line, and she passed with flying colours.

Moored on the Bure with a windmill in the distance

On the way back to the marina we did notice some steam coming from the engine compartment, and found a small water leak next to the water pump, dripping onto the exhaust. Back moored up at the marina I removed the water pump and found that the gasket was shot - I had once replaced a water pump on my car, and had seen a friend, who was a good amateur car mechanic, make a new cylinder head gasket, so during the week I went to a local marine chandlers and bought the necessary parts.
Making a new gasket was actually a lot easier than I had thought it would be, and this repair was also fully tested the following weekend. Although I am still very much a duffer when it comes to engines of any sort I do have the confidence to give it a go, and to know when to call in the experts! A lot of things on these older engines is common sense rather than technical know-how!
There followed a period of very misty weather, so much so that we couldn't get out to sea - one day we were just messing around on Breydon Water and a very thick mist blew in, so we had to very gingerly crawl back to the marina and moor up! Another occasion we were heading back into the marina when it suddenly got very windy, making steering extremely difficult. To get to our stern-on mooring we had to head forwards past the pontoons, then reverse and turn to line up to our particular spot. We had to abort our first attempt due to the wind, and as we were about to start the second attempt, lining up to head forwards, the wind started blowing a gale, and despite throwing the engine into reverse we were blown into the bank, lined with metal pilings! Fortunately we hit above the waterline, but the end of one piling gouged a six-inch long scrape, about an inch deep, in the fibreglass! We had to wait for the wind to subside before we could finally moor and inspect the damage.
During the week it was back to the chandlers for a fibreglass repair kit - resin for the gouge, and matting for the surface - and some paint, and a visit to the library to read up on fibreglass repairs! Next weekend we had to ask if we could use a different mooring, an on-line one, so we could get at the damaged hull. Our stern mooring was no good - with the bow out there was no way we could get at the damaged part, and even if we moored nose-in we were still unable to reach the bit that needed repairing. On-line was still tricky - we had to lean out to reach the repair, and, even with the stern out a bit to bring the bow in closer, it was still uncomfortable working on it. The gouge was so deep we had to build it up in layers, allowing each one to dry before the next application, so it took several hours until we were satisfied with the finish, and it was barely noticeable that there had been any damage! 
We decided that the following Sunday, weather permitting, we would head out to sea again to fish!

Boating in Norfolk - Part 2

Over the following few weeks we concentrated on getting the boat ready - checking all the equipment, familiarising ourselves with the controls, and preparing for our first fishing trip. The North Sea off Great Yarmouth can be quite rough, and morning thick sea mists quite common, and in those pre-internet days, and also before cellphones were widely used, it was not easy to determine if conditions were suitable or safe. Great Yarmouth and Gorleston are cities on opposite sides of the mouth of the River Yare (after which Yarmouth got its name!) and the road to the marina was not that far from Gorleston Pier, where the river mouth was, so we started calling in there to check on sea conditions, rather than risk the hour-plus boat trip through Yarmouth harbour just to find we could not put to sea. Clearly this didn't really work if we checked Saturday evening and then headed out the following morning, but for the first sea trip we only headed to the boat early on Saturday, and as sea conditions looked reasonable we decided to try our first sea voyage!
My nephew was with us, and he had been worrying about being seasick ever since we got the boat, not that he had ever been seasick before as far as we all knew, so he took some Dramamine before we headed out. The trip across Breydon water was uneventful, and then we slowly cruised through Great Yarmouth Harbour, the depth sounder showing we had plenty of clearance, but suddenly pinging loudly showing only about a foot of water below our hull! We immediately stopped the engine to avoid catching the prop, but the sounder had gone back to over 15 feet, and there was no sign that we should have been in shallow water as we were in the main harbour navigation channel. We decided it may have been a submerged log or other obstruction, and continued towards the harbour entrance.

Map showing where the marina is in respect of the open sea

As we turned to port close to the harbour entrance, and got the first effects of the North Sea, my nephew pipes up that he is feeling fine, but then as we passed between the piers at either side and started hitting some small waves, he began to look a little green, and soon was being sick over the side! We asked him if he wanted us to go back, but he said he thought he would be OK, so we gunned the motor and proceeded - and the engine died! The swell in the harbour entrance was moderate, and it is important to keep your nose pointed into the waves, but without power we were helpless, though the engine immediately started again, and was fine idling and at extremely low speed, but as soon as we increased the throttle it died again. By now we had cleared the entrance and managed to get out of the navigation channel, but were not far offshore, and drifting slowly Southwards, so we dropped anchor. Once anchored we checked over the engine - well, neither of us were mechanics, but we checked the obvious things. The fuel tank was full, spark plugs clean, electrics dry, and so on. 
The motor fired up with no problem, and ran at idle, and very low revs, but that was not enough to get us back to harbour - every time we increased the revs the engine died, so we would start the engine, pull up the anchor, start moving forwards, then the engine died again so we had to drop anchor again! There was a charter fishing boat not that far away from us, and in the end we hailed it, so he came close to see what the problem was, and agreed to tow us back into the harbour. There were 6 fishermen on board who had paid for a day's fishing, and were not too pleased, but the tow only took about 20 minutes, so they didn't lose too much, though we were left just inside the harbour in private moorings, so could not remain there. The fishing captain was also the owner of a marina in Great Yarmouth, and said that if we were still there when he returned he would come and see us to offer further assistance.
In the quieter waters of the harbour we had another look at the engine, and discovered that the fuel filter (newly fitted) was quite dirty, so cleaned that as best we could, and started the engine up again. Again she fired up first time, and ran fine at idle, but as soon as we gave it some throttle it died again! We decided that we had to try and move from where we were, and with what little power we had we did manage to move further from the harbour entrance, helped by the incoming tide, and found a public mooring near the Haven Bridge. We did not have enough headway to manoeuvre under the bridge, either with the tide, or with the current once the tide changed, so decided to secure the boat and leave it for the night.
I took a taxi back to the marina to collect our Transit van, so we could go home, and Dad and Paulo secured the boat. While I was gone the fishing captain came by - on his way home as he had dropped off his customers and boat, but seen us moored on the opposite side - and offered help. Dad had a long chat with him, explaining how we had recently bought the boat, and had work done by an engineer from Belaugh, who he actually knew and recommended. He said we should contact the engineer and have him look at it, since he knew the engine, having originally fitted it too, and told us he would keep an eye on the boat, though it should be safe there anyway.
Tuesday afternoon we collected the engineer, and Dad and I headed back to Yarmouth in the car this time. The plan was that once the boat was fixed we would take it across Breydon Water to the Marina and Dad would drive to Burgh Castle to collect us. The engineer started off by trying the engine, which of course started first time, so he asked that we cast off the mooring lines and headed into the river - so far so good. He steered towards the bridge, then had to increase the throttle as the current caught us, and ... the engine died! Start up again, throttle - died! On my advice he kept the revs low and managed to get us back on the mooring. So he starts by stripping the carb, and decides it is dirt in there causing the problem, so cleans it out, checks the fuel filter, which had a bit more dirt in it, and tries the engine again. This time he revs up while still moored, and ... it dies again! The engine is getting enough fuel to start and idle, but as soon as you give it throttle there isn't enough fuel getting through - and then he checks the fuel lines, and finds that when the filter was installed the line through it is of narrower diameter than the incoming line, and the reduction in size is causing a bottleneck which has clogged up with debris from the tank! Enough fuel passes to start and idle the engine, but when power is needed the blockage is preventing sufficient fuel to pass! The filter was installed by his company! He cleans out the blockage, and tests the throttle fully, before deciding that the problem is resolved, so we head back under the bridge and towards Breydon water! The rough sea had shaken the tank up causing the debris at the bottom of the tank to pass into the fuel line.
Dad had headed back in the car to meet us and I took the controls across Breydon Water, and soon we were cruising on the plane at around 20 knots, but, while we still had a mechanic on board, I decided to open her up to see what she could do - and got her up to 32 knots! I looked across at the mechanic and he was white-knuckled holding on, but with a grin from ear to ear! When I slowed down again he said he had never been across Breydon Water before, and never travelled that fast in a powered boat, and it was awesome!!

Petite Promesse up on the plane

He did, however, advise us to replace the filter with one the same fuel line size as the rest of the system, and offered to source one for us, and would loan us the tools required to fit it ourselves (pipe flaring tool, especially), so that was our next project the following weekend!

Boating in Norfolk - Part 1

Around 1982, while we still had the family bakery and village grocery store, my Dad decided he would like to buy a boat so we could go fishing. In those far-off days Sunday trading was almost non-existent, and many small shops only opened for a half-day on Wednesday and Saturday, though we traded the full 6 days, but did remain closed on Bank Holidays - again some shops opened for half a day on these, but as we had the bakery we decided that we would remain closed, rather than start work at 04.00 for a half day of trade!
Living on the edge of the Norfolk Broads there were a lot of boat brokerages about, especially in Horning, which was a major sailing centre, so we headed there to see what was available. While in Mozambique we did have a small open speedboat we used for fishing in the Zambezi, 

Our boat on the Zambezi, with my Mum and Robbie, the dog!

but we felt we wanted something a bit more substantial. The idea was that we would leave home after work (17.30 or so) on Saturday, overnight on the boat, and then motor out to the open sea to fish on Sunday, so it needed living space for at least 4. Before looking for a boat we had researched the best place to moor it - we lived about 20 miles from the nearest coast, and a further 5 miles or so from anywhere a boat could be kept and easily access the sea. We considered the North-east Norfolk coast, but most of the marinas/harbours there were very tidal, so at times cut off from the sea, so in the end had decided on Burgh Castle Marina, close to Great Yarmouth. It meant an 8 mile run to the sea, across Breydon Water (no speed limit) followed by a slow (3 mph) trip through Great Yarmouth harbour, so would take us an hour from the marina to the North Sea.
We found a suitable boat relatively quickly - a 27 foot cruiser, powered by an inboard 1500cc BMC marine petrol engine, which would push it along at around 30 knot top speed! On the test run from the brokerage we were restricted to 8 mph on the River Bure, once clear of the 3 mph limit in the built up area, but the broker opened her up briefly to show what she could do, slowing down as we approached a bend in the river where a river police boat appeared - fortunately we were below the speed limit by then, and the officers knew the broker, too!

Petite Promesse moored at the marina, with my Dad

We made an offer on the spot, conditional on a survey, which passed apart from a couple of minor, non-structural or mechanical, suggestions. The surveyor said it needed an electrical cut-off switch, better ventilation in the gas tank locker (for the stove and fridge), and a fuel filter - which he installed for us at his yard. We had also decided we needed a depth sounder since we were going offshore in unknown waters (to us) so he installed that as well, but felt at this stage that we would be fishing close inshore so did not worry about a radio (which I think is compulsory nowadays). Petite Promesse came with an inflatable tender with a small outboard, had a cabin with two berths, but room for two more in the rear deck area, which could be closed with an awning (as in the photo above). There was a two-burner stove and small gas fridge, and a cupboard with a Portaloo in it- though the cupboard was so small you could only use it with the door open, or take it into the main cabin for more privacy, so it didn't get uses that much!
Wroxham, considered to be the "capital" of the Broads, was only a few miles from where we lived, and has several chandlers, so we had bough life jackets, boat hook, fenders (I also bough some at a local auction), rope, and other essentials, so by the time the boat was ready we were also fully kitted out! 

We moored for a coffee break

Mum came along for the journey to Burgh Castle, where we had left our vehicle the day before so we could get home again. We had read up on the "rules of the waterways" and knew that speed limits on the Bure were very low, for bank protection, so were aware that the trip to the marina would take us at least three hours, but as we motored back through Horning there was a sailing regatta taking place - and power gives way to sail. So we had to dodge our way through the tacking yachts, keeping to the right though they were using the whole river, and also maintaining the speed limit of 3 mph at that place. It was extremely challenging, as we had to try and work out where they were going and time our forward progress between their tacks across the river, making sure we didn't go too fast and create a dangerous wash for them as well. More by luck that good fortune we got through without upsetting anyone, and got a nod of approval from the marshals!
We eventually reached Breydon Water, a large expanse of water near Great Yarmouth where three rivers meet - the Bure, we had just travelled along, joined at the North end, and the rivers Waveney and Yare, joining at the Southern end of Breydon Water, near where our marina was. Breydon Water has the "shipping channel" clearly marked as at low water there are vast areas of sticky mud exposed, and rarely a week went by when we didn't see hire boats stranded high and dry, waiting for the next high tide, who had ignored the markers! Breydon Water has no speed limit - so we opened up and crossed it rapidly at around 25 knots, with the Petite Promesse showing her pedigree! Up on the plane the ride was very smooth, and we soon arrived at the marina.
Our mooring was a stern-on one, and that proved to be our next challenge. We had to reverse in past the front mooring post, throw a rope round it that we could slip as we moved backwards, then, being careful not to go in too hard or too far, keep going until someone could jump ashore and tie us up. We had to leave just enough slack so we could pull the boat close enough for everyone to disembark, but not so much that the stern-drive would hit against the dock! The bow line had to be kept taught so as not to allow too much slack at the stern! We did have ball fenders at the rear as well, just in case
Having safely navigated our first trip we decided we needed a few more days familiarising ourselves with the boat before heading out to the open sea!