Hector Belda
I met Hector Belda on the day the captain’s birthday was ruined by a ship collision. We were tied inside the quay in Horta, Faial, an island in the Azores. A training ship landed across from where we were snug in our berth. The arriving ship's jibboom got tangled with our course yard. French and English epithets flew from the captain.
As dusk fell a lean man with long dark hair showed up with his guitar and daughter in tow. He was joined by a deckhand from the offending training ship who came over to offer apologies with the help of her violin. They played and Hector’s daughter danced with the bosun and a deckhand.
The accident would keep us several more days in Faial and On Hector invited the Second Mate and I to join him for some wine and pasta on his sailboat. Hector is from Barcelona. He and his wife and daughter have been sailing around the world. He plays guitar and also builds them out of a shop that folds out of the back of his sailboat. He chooses wood with a story. The musicians that play his next guitar will strum strings that will resonate through the wood salvaged from a 17th century ship. His goal is to sail around the world while making 80 guitars intimately connected to the places he visits. I told him about tinyboatsession and he liked this idea.
A few days later Hector showed up in a loose white shirt and leather vest. An observer from the last 200 years might look at him strolling along any latin quayside and not bat an eye. Corsair, vaquero and flamenco master–he could have been all three. He sat in the ships dingy in front of the bow of TRES HOMBRES and gave an introduction.
“I am Hector, I am a sea lover.”
His hands flew across the guitar for a few takes. Then he apologize for having to rush. He had to make his daughter dinner.
Me and the second mate joined the rest of the crew in Porto Pim for sundowners and then dinner at a taverna. Black white photos of time gone by hung from dark wood panels. Dinner was fresh cod, crusty bread, and cold white wine. Instagram: @hector_belda_om